Poetry Slam
I hadn’t been to a Poetry Slam, until the other night.
Artists bravely seeking fame without a hint of fright
With bared souls, hearts on sleeve,
No props, costumes or pages to read
They shared their art. And I believed.
A silent audience decreed
Their worth in numbers; one to ten.
I questioned justice and motivation but then
On leaving the venue later that evening
The words in my head took on a new meaning
Common thoughts began to rhyme and ordinary words beat in time.
