Long Stage fright Poems
Long Stage fright Poems. Below are the most popular long Stage fright by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stage fright poems by poem length and keyword.
I have a disability I’ve had my whole life long.
My memory disappears whenever things go wrong,
My first memory was wondering where and who on earth was I.
And who were all the people that I did espy,
When we moved to our first house, it struck me yet again.
Thank goodness my brother came along on his bike just then.
My mother came outside, and looked familiar so I followed her within.
I actually thought that I was normal, when I was very small.
They took my hand when I went out, so it mattered not at all.
Ingrained habits kept me in the yard, with my friends, and at their knee.
I was such a quiet thoughtful child, they were happy to let me be.
Who am I and where am I, became my quiet refrain.
But I didn’t worry because they always there to call my name.
My parents never caught on, no not once, never at all…
I actually acted like everyone else when I was very small.
I looked normal to others so alone I had to carry on.
Then I went to ballet class, I studied so very hard… for oh so long.
The day of the recital I lost it all in front all where I wanted to belong.
My mother thought it stage fright, and finally took me from the throng.
What good was it doing, she thought, if I did not want to learn the dance?
And then I realized to live my life I’d have to work hard for every chance.
And if I had an argument with a friend, it was over oh so fast.
For the stress made me forget and my life became recast.
So if they didn’t come around for a while I didn’t really care.
Because I would soon forget they had ever even been there.
Eventually they would come back and my memory would come back.
Then off we’d go to play again as I studied how to avoid another attack.
When asked what I wanted to play, I’d smile at them you see…
And they’d be happy as I said, “whatever you want is ok with me.”
But do not think to pity me for my stubbornness is truly limitless.
After 12 and ½ years in college… I became for 30 years, a true Chemist.
I raised a son and held my own in a world that couldn’t understand me.
But with all those bouts of confusion the world still became my cup of tea.
Quiet, stubborn, hiding my pain, and with lots of daily notes…
Lots of time spent studying ways around my problems, I would devote…
My family had no pity, just the charge to get out there with mankind.
And here I am successful at 58, now with poetry on my mind.
Have you ever been in a musical show?
I have done some, so this is how I know.
They first hooked me when I was in high school,
but stage fright made me feel the fool.
So, I began on the backstage crew,
Oh the things we had to do.
Painting sets and handling props,
sometimes I wished I was a farmer harvesting crops.
Dressing all in black the day of the show
moving sets in the dark so no one would know.
We did some things that only a crew can do
I'll try to list a few here for you.
For example, during the "King and I",
There is a tearful scene with a Buddha to cry.
Since our Buddha was a person who spoke to Tuptim,
We did all in our power to get a laugh out of him.
Two of us moved his pedestal onstage,
his scene was to be all the rage.
We had to hide below his pedestal for his soliloquy,
So we tried to crack him up for all to see.
I worked behind the scenes again, for "My Fair Lady",
Some of the things we did there were also shady.
Professor Higgins takes a big drink in one scene
so we decided to pull one of our pranks on him.
The bottle he poured from was usually filled with ginger ale,
when we switched it to the real stuff he turned pale.
He could barely speak the next few lines
and was off key in his song the next time.
The classic we pulled was in "The Unsinkable Molly Brown",
our prank was the talk of the town.
If you don't know the story let me enlighten you
because then you may get a laugh or two.
Molly is aboard the Titanic's first trip
and the scene has to deal with the sinking of the ship.
We had a lifeboat with people on stage with waves across the floor,
she gets their attention by firing several shots in the air.
During the final dress rehearsal before show night
we knew this scene would be just right.
The Titanic sinking in the background, the waves, the lifeboat,
Molly pulls her pistol, raises it to the sky, and began to shoot.
The auditorium goes silent as the people raise their eyes to her to engage,
When a rubber duck came flying from the wings and landed on stage.
You never saw a director as mad as that
if she had a gun she would have blown off your hat.
"Who did that? Who did that?" was all she could say,
as the stage crew just laughed as we went on our way.
I finally got the nerve to perform in some shows later on,
But for now...this is just an introduction.
A Different Kind of Courage
Sam took to the stage, limping with a leg brace
And more than a mere trace of fear on his face
The humorous speech competition was on
He’d made it to finals, prior contests he’d won
Sam’s lifelong bout with muscular dystrophy
Generated sadness and much empathy
He shook and stammered as he started to speak
Competitors thought his composure he’d breach
“Stage fright is shared by many,” the boy explained
And as he began, his eye contact seemed strained
We wanted to rush to his side, offer aid
Little did we know Sam’s point was being made
He’d soon have us laughing at the “crutches” WE use
To gain courage when stage fright ensues
“I’m picturing you all naked,” he laughed, smiled
Soon his sharp wit had us rolling in the aisle
His strength and confidence built fast as he spoke
Sam finished up with a memorable poke:
“You thought I would fail; I read it in your eyes
Seeing only my handicap, I realize.
Those who can’t see beyond disabilities
Are mired in self fear; YOU have MY sympathy.”
Out of four thousand entrants, Sam took first place
Impressing us all with his wisdom and grace
Today Sam coaches a college debate team
Having mastered the art of building esteem
September 8, 2020
I chose this poem because I wrote a poem “Courage” on January 10, 2020, one of the poems in my published book “That Thing Called Life”. I penned the six kinds of courage in my poem; physical, social, spiritual, intellectual, moral, and emotional. I had described and gave examples on each of them.
Carolyn titled her poem “A Different Kind of Courage” that Sam displayed. I agree with Carolyn that Sam showed a different kind of courage. He also displayed four kinds of courage: social, spiritual, moral and emotional. He showed he could face criticisms, rejections, oppositions (social); let go (spiritual); showed his own values (moral) and he discerned and told the truth (emotional).
Carolyn ended her poem “Having mastered the art of building esteem” and I ended my poem “It (Courage) gives us power and inner strength”.
8/22/21 Celebrating Carolyn's Poetry:
An Uncontested Poetry
Andrea Dietrich
All preparation had been completed
The big night was finally here
At three in the afternoon I went to dress rehearsal
Stood on the Gaiety stage for the first time - I didn’t have any fear!
Three lovely ladies
We were standing behind our microphones
Reciting our poems .. to an audience of ONE
Rows and rows of empty seats – tonight they would soon fill
Would nerves finally hit me, would I start to feel ill …
We had a few hours to kill before the show would start
Hubby and I went for a meal before I played my part
I dressed in my lovely frock – our act would all wear black and white
The theatre was a sell out, much to our delight
The performance kicked off at eight o’clock
Our slot was in the second half so we sat and watched the show
Joined in with the audience from spare seats on the back row
Time passed by so quickly once the show had begun
We rolled about with laughter the acts were such great fun
The interval came and we had to go
Soon the time would come for us to perform
It was freezing cold backstage I wore my cardigan to keep warm!
Our names were announced and we walked onto the stage
Lights shone down on the three of us
But the audience was a sea of faces in the dark
I was first to recite my poem
‘Seven men you definitely wouldn’t want to date’
Not a sign of stage fright at all
Di recited ‘The Fine’ and Irene ‘1958’
Then it was back to me with ‘Just Desserts’
It was the very first funny poem I’d written
Di’s ‘Night Nuisance’ and Irene’s ‘A Transcript’ poems followed
With poetry we are all smitten
With massive smiles on our faces we walked off the stage
Came back later to take a bow
The audience applause was rapturous – I can still hear it in my head now!
Last night I performed on stage at a charity event in front of 600 people … it was my first time on a ‘proper’ stage at the Victorian Gaiety Theatre and was the most incredible night of my life! The night raised awareness of Parkinson's Disease and Alzheimer's and raised over £6000 ($7410) from ticket sale alone - there were bucket collections too.
11~19~16
Quyted (to depart from) your arms is an urge I have held on to
Qwerty language got me typing away with you for no clue (reason)
Quenched in your disqualifying love affair
Tired of being your nightmare twyer and your dream catcher afire
Tripping out because I puffed on my drug of desire - the cigarette of regret and its outrageous results
Trapezoids get paranoid at the sight of your circular ways...triangle angles has shaped your geometrical appearance, your symmetrical awareness
I d-don't mean t-to intrude your without-a-trace personal space
Intrigued to see you have moved on with your life's really rapid race
I don't think perfectionists are normal...nor are pacifists to battle friend grounds, going up and down a bomb-packed wall
Damaged drastically by your dismay days and its highest degrees...lowering my confidence levels inedibly
Do note this - I love your hatred and you hate my love
Dandelions grow where my lily pads float and it doesn't make any logical sense at all...so I hand you a bouquet of stars and forget-me-nots and forgive-me-pleases
Empathic emperors are crowned as clever Kings in my town of undefeated honor and elegant dignity
Empower me with the Haar's breeze for the time being and squander our time like children, chasing around each other at the park and playing following the leader...
Empty your pockets of moonjoy and let it sprinkle upon me spacious, splendid sunrises and I'll be the leader and you the follower this time forth and forevermore
And I utter risk-taking words of bipolar weather (emotions and the changing effects)
Alienated ambition strikes me on stage with brave potentials and talents alike that is the opposite of stage fright altogether
Adorn me with blissful blessings that are of the highest quality and will make all crowds tremor with respectful fear
Rouge roses you tossed at my timid tombstone (doing away with shyness)...now I'm bleeding out Crimson, a vermillion vengefulness you spat at me
Remitting relief grief upon me, the Haar's blasted breeze oh so wretched breeze once at ease...Dona Nobis Pachem please...
the great bard and Elizabethan play wright
begetting complete dramaturgy
explaining fate hollowly airtight
succor starved, riddled smitten tattered
sir real body politik blight
under whelming enthusiasm
witnessed blank quarto copyright
more tragedy than comedy
visited mine biography to date
expressed as dearth
decayed delight
devoid absent audience
hip...hip...hooray
three chairs to excite
zero non-exhaustive effort
summoning stagecraft
imagining hardened
faced spectators
muted nonexistent ovation,
sans anticlimactic action
superfluous stage fright,
thus retrospective stance taken
billeted envisioned
anachronistic gunfight
signifying emotional crisis,
especially high anxiety
pained height
incorporating mine every birthday
newly aged since
LIX January
thirteenth orbitz insight
oppressive ominous gloomy glum
obscuring highland dale light
whereby substantial sole action
asper arrival of midnight
celestial curtain call enclosing
somber static theatrical night
hoop fully explaining deadening
copious heavy breathing
followed by extended lapses
of utter silence outright
spartan mise en scene
absent agit props
nsync with holographic thespians
staid theatrics displaying plight
uneventful sleepy representation quite
leaving entire cast
(singular char actor his shun
of myself) remaining
soporific steadfastly right
lee measure for measure
much ado about nothing
hermetically sealed, NON GMO
vacuum packed no sight
worth seeing on the twelfth night
starkly barren aimless
padlocked mortal soul asylum
no, not even Romeo and Juliet
love's labor's lost passion
a comedy of errors,
viz unbridled trothplight
mock king lear ring alls well that ends well
where me crushed psyche doth unite
with death vis a vis
as demise of Julius Caesar
et tu Brutus I in vite.
Silence...
...Just wait...
Wait a couple seconds...no, really.
Just WAIT...
In the distance,
a tremble of the air itself.
A subtle quiver of it's molecular structure.
A charge, causing your hair to come alive.
*CRACK* A singularity so vivid, so dazzling,
it blinds you,
forming indistinct bubbles in your vision.
Then another, farther away, not as luminous.
Another, and another. Dozens of fractures in the sky,
shining with voltages so high, so powerful;
temperatures blistering hot,
Searing and broiling anything they touch.
Fiercier than the sun's corona.
Vapourisation.
Retorts of thunderous applause,
following seconds behind, build up.
Unsure at first, escalating. Deafening.
Frightening all into submission.
Applause for such grandeur.
Overlooking the dark and forested valley,
we observe nature's perfect opera.
Above us,
angry violet mamma roil,
bubbling over the base of the storm.
Faded flashes,
illuminating the clouds,
casting mauve highlights and indigo shadows.
Far off applause,
the audience of another, higher up show.
The tempest isn't quite done yet,
the show must go on.
Not 10 metres behind us,
a tree explodes, its trunk boiled and charred.
Simultaneously, a roaring, reverberating crackle-snap ignites the air,
blasting our eardrums past their record limits.
A roasting heat wave blows over our heads,
shoving us forward, searing the tips of our hair.
Screaming and shouting, we stumble away,
no longer amazed at this horrifying opera.
Tripping down the slope,
we roll into the thick forest below us,
colliding with trees and shrubbery.
More flashes, tailed by the sky guffawing at us,
as we've become the joke of the show.
Horror surfacing on our faces,
we blunder towards the jeep.
Only thing is...
all that's left of the jeep is a smoldering carcass...
Real fear sets in,
as we discover ourselves
Trapped.
Isolated.
Entirely alone.
And up on the stage of nature's prime opera.
And we're the laughing stock.
The dispensibles.
No way out.
Is depression a band playing?
Always jeering at my brightest sets
Blows off the smallest bow leaving me a husk
Depression cat calls behind the veil
Dark days alone with my ever-present God
Hopelessly kneeling to my sad nature
A dead mane of a palm tree stripped by squalls
My rot rooted by reality's check ever on stage
Pop Seroquel to quell me to sleep
Teach me patience in this depression
Teach me the meaning of petite mort
Keep me practicing dying on stage
If not for love's tethers I would gladly exit
To my ancestors behind the ol’back stage
With my relations in line to come to Jesus
Barred by chemical prescriptions
Pop lithium and lamictal to unite polarities
Lurasidone to sway my psychosis to tunes
Trazodone for slaying me to sleep
This time I'll stay adherent and penitent
Drugs are courage buoying stage fright
Chemical messengers knitting neurons
Exposing me to paper cuts from the crowd
Shrouding mania with suppressed dopamine
Sadness in the background overwhelms me
Remember dust to stardust gravely falling
Those dark days twisting without love
Sex and drugs are cheap distractions
Cigarettes just crutches in the limelight
Without drink and weed on center stage
I want to go back-stage when love recedes
Then I would not feel my heart racing
Keep me above ground as life grinds on
The accretion of well-intentioned lies
Another day another poem
Like broken records on repeat
Veils of depression weighty as curtains
Knowing doesn’t tear the thread of identity
When I cross the veil, leave it all behind
But, it's not time to go back-stage
If not for love I would cut Fate’s twine
Stay alive long enough without disguises
Endure hours naked under the spotlight
Hold moments of joy without expectations
Confetti dismissed by peppered depression
Killing time while crooning cruelly alone
Waiting impatiently for the curtain call
Depression waiting back-stage as usual
LC
I bought an eighty-inch TV,
just for the box—
set it up like a teepee.
Jump in like tee-hee!
Throw the screen out the window.
Let it crash.
Now there’s an 80” stuck in my lawn,
and people slow down just to whisper,
“Wow… this guy’s artsy.”
Turns out Mary didn’t even have a lamb.
She was just a crack head
Life is better made of lead—
Anyway—
I’m the Wall King.
Just walking.
Dripping with metaphors,
casually passing a bar
so packed with puns
I can smell a librarian’s breath
from the sidewalk like:o
shhh… no talking.
I wave.
Web spinner, sinner—what’s for dinner?
Probably canned beans and regret.
I’m a different thinker.
Opened my brain like a paint can
and painted the gray
a little pinker.
No dreams.
Noted.
Polyurethane coated.
Polly, you’re a pain
with your coats and coats
and coats of—
Breathe.
Breathe useless airs.
Angel lets me breathe.
Devil always stares.
But I cares…
I cares. I cares!
That’s when I hear it—
“Hi, I’m Death.”
Oh hey.
Didn’t expect you this early.
Death shrugs:
“As a frequent spectator…
take a side quest.”
So I do.
I walk down to the park
where squirrels are doing calculus
and pigeons speak in Morse code.
I sit on a bench made of half-memories
and I think:
Energy is everything.
It exists inside your mind.
Space is confidential.
Which is why we keep
bumping into each other’s
potential.
Suddenly—flashback.
Sandler, on TV,
taught me about my oblongata—
made connections like:
“Hi, I’m the brain. What’s up, pain and suffering?”
And I answer: Nada.
Then I freeze.
Manual breathing activated.
Chest rising like it has stage fright.
Autonomous… imagination…
and a Beatle told me once—
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da—life goes on, too.
And I laugh.
Because I’m sitting in a teepee
made from a TV box,
eating cold soup with Death,
and nobody can tell me
this isn’t art you see.
Stage Fright
This has been a long Sunday it started off with two toasts with cheese and the glucose rose to stratospheric, insulin is needed where the heck
Is the bloody needle, mlg if you please followed by a thundering heart and unwanted anxiety, I have tried to overcome for over 60 years
In my younger days, I tried to overcome my nerves by drinking whisky as a calmer which made me annoyed with anxiety-riddled myself
My wish was and still is to be a brave person, who is able to express himself with confidence But, no deal baby, I ended up alone in a room
It is not like I don’t know what caused my total lack of confidence, our dysfunctional family was poor and I was literary farmed out
I was fourteen years old when I was set free to get a job as an errand boy in an office of nice people, who made me feel loved and wanted
Somehow, despite my nervous hands and clumsy manners, I was able to get an education, which was well-paid, in the Norwegian merchant navy
Later in life, I was in the café trade both in Britain and in Norway a business one has to be social and I had the hope to be cured of awkwardness
Finally, I sold out and went to live in Portugal where I bought a ruined house, fixed it up, and for years lived alone with a dog as companion
My dog died, and my aloneness became ghostly until I met a woman and my life changed, but my nervousness didn’t, but it didn’t bother her
I look back on my life and ask how the hell, did I managed this, with a lump of fear in my stomach nervous hands, and a lack of self-confidence
The house on the prairie is sold, and my rustic dream is over, what the hell man, stop worrying about where to live tomorrow
As I sit in my chair, I stretch and feel, without hesitation pleased with myself, a voice utters, you are a jerk, now, take Elon Musk……