poem- performance art

Shawn L. Bird

I know,

that sometimes my performance faltered.

I reached down or up for notes that would not be seized.

I fumbled  at times with pitch, tune, entrances, but

every time

I believed.

I believed I was selling crumbs to birds

who were going to die horrible deaths

without them.

I believed that every person

within the sound of my voice should buy

just a small bag for the ‘ungry young ones.

My voice trembled with my belief, as I gazed out at the faces,

beseeching each and every one to part with a tuppence.

.

You believed.

How you clung to my arm,

when me met on the sidewalk, months later,

eager to tell me how you’d heard my voice

in your head weeks afterwards.  How beautiful it was.

How it made you wept.

I, who knew every vocal fault,

struggled to believe

that my believing,

had been enough.

Thank…

View original post 73 more words

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Published by: chris jensen

Who am i? i am nothing! Started in nothing! Ending in nothing! Truly free, on a reclusive trip.. Floating free.... A gift from those whom sent me! Who am i? Why simply. i am me!

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