The Theatre

Wow, I didn't realize how long it was! Maybe I should've put it in narrative poetry....or novels....

Mid-winter:
cold enough to turn the sky to gray,
and cast a slight mist of half-hearted rain
over the narrow downtown streets,
yet not quite cold enough for the snow
I'd always dreamed of seeing.
The old theater sat on the town's
most famous streetcorner, where once a month
washed-up artists, frustrated musicians,
eclectic teenagers, and starry-eyed families
gathered to wonder at the miracles of human creativity.

You stood on the wide, dark stage
and glanced fearfully out at the audience,
though it was mainly comprised of restless children
and mothers smiling benignly at nothing.
I listened with an uncomfortable smile
as you stumbled through the song,
but you did have a beautiful voice.
That was the day we met, but for some reason,
All I really remember are those three minutes.

I was an aspiring actress: pretty, playful,
and painfully aware of how awkward I was;
you were a homeschooled Christian
with a biting sense of humor that belied
your underlying innocence.
It was probably just your classically blue eyes
that made me fall in love with you,
but I'd like to believe it went deeper than that.

In any case, the black curtains enshrouding the stage
must have kept my secret well,
just as the brilliant spotlights failed to reveal
all the things I couldn't put into words.
Instead, we sat in the empty auditorium,
and I sketched you leaning your head on your hand,
which you sometimes laid over mine,
marvelling at how much smaller mine was,
and blissfully ignorant of how
my skin trembled at your touch.

Pacing restlessly on the crumbling sidewalk--
hidden behind the room that overflowed with costumes
and furniture and discarded backdrops that leaned
like faded paintings against the wall--
or staring out the slightly smudged window
of the dejected little coffee shop next door--
accompanied only by the lethargic cashier
and the lone guitarist plucking thoughtfully in the corner--
I would sing your first song as quietly as possible.

That was a long time ago.
Now I'm far away from that little corner we loved,
and all the buildings to the west block the sunset
I used to watch, standing out in the empty street,
while you lingered on the sidewalk,
looking at me like I was crazy;
but we both knew you wanted to be out there too.
It doesn't really matter now:
I've moved on to brighter stages and wider streets,
I'm just as pretty, a little less playful, and a lot less awkward,
and I have more important things to do than wander
down damp alleyways and into sleepy coffee shops.
You're still singing on that perpetually dusty stage,
your eyes are no doubt still as blue,
and maybe you've even found someone else
who can sketch the soft tilt of your lips better than I did.

But sometimes I can't help but wonder
if you remember how small my hands were in yours.

I really liked this. I liked all the details and the last line really gave it some tension. You might want to try and make it a bit shorter though, people often get lazy and don't bother reading everything. But yeah, like I said I liked it.

I know the length will terrify plenty of reviewers from this piece, but it's so well-written. And you know what? Don't shorten it. If we all wrote for the sake of getting tons of reviews we'd all be making emo-vampire-love poems. Don't worry about lack of reviews just because this is longer and you won't find so many reviewers for it. It's good. Anyway, getting down to the poem itself, I love the simple prose feel of it that's very real and definitely story-like (yep, it fits best under narrative poetry). The emotions felt real, like painful ones but ones that were fading enough to really be looked back on with a wider perspective. All in all, this was a great poem.
Keep writing,
StoryWeaver

Wow! I really enjoyed this. I did feel a bit like I was reading a short story, but I like it as a poem. I do think it should be in Narrative, though. I can't really think of anything bad about it, except some lines seemed to ramble on a little too much.

I particularly liked this verse:

Warrior Princess wrote:In any case, the black curtains enshrouding the stage
must have kept my secret well,
just as the brilliant spotlights failed to reveal
all the things I couldn't put into words.
Instead, we sat in the empty auditorium,
and I sketched you leaning your head on your hand,
which you sometimes laid over mine,
marvelling at how much smaller mine was,
and blissfully ignorant of how
my skin trembled at your touch.

You're way better at poetry than me. Well done!

(This is one of the three reveiws you won from my contest, just FYI.) OK, so generally... WOW! You write some of the most amazinng poetry I've ever read. This piece was no exception. It was powerful, deep, descriptive, and beautiful. I loved every word. I especially loved the line about how the poeple gather to marvel at the miracles of human creativty. That was really good. and the last line left me hanging on a sad note, which I liked. But it started out so happy and then shrunk down to somethimg sad! That makes me sad! I don't know, maybe you meant to do it that way, probably actually. But still, awesome poem and I loved every bit.
-Cammie