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"description": "This is the second of four poems I did for my creative writing class. We were told to write about an emotion or emotions, and I chose nervousness and pride.\n\nThe poem itself is a true story. I was in choir in high school, and we did a performance for the veteran's affairs hospital for Christmas one year. I was the only student who had a solo song. The others were all either duets or trios or whatever. Every time I think about what happened in the poem, I get chills down my spine.\n\nAnyone who has ever done a performance in front of a crowd can relate to the nervousness I imagine. It felt like I was watching myself from the outside. And when the soldier said those words to me, I again felt that I was someone else, seeing everything happen from a different set of eyes. It was simply enlightening.\n\nThat soldier's words still inspire and motivate me today.\n\nComments and constructive criticism are welcome as always. :)",
"description_bbcode_parsed": "This is the second of four poems I did for my creative writing class. We were told to write about an emotion or emotions, and I chose nervousness and pride.
The poem itself is a true story. I was in choir in high school, and we did a performance for the veteran's affairs hospital for Christmas one year. I was the only student who had a solo song. The others were all either duets or trios or whatever. Every time I think about what happened in the poem, I get chills down my spine.
Anyone who has ever done a performance in front of a crowd can relate to the nervousness I imagine. It felt like I was watching myself from the outside. And when the soldier said those words to me, I again felt that I was someone else, seeing everything happen from a different set of eyes. It was simply enlightening.
That soldier's words still inspire and motivate me today.
Comments and constructive criticism are welcome as always. :)",
"writing": "[center]Uncomfortable Comfort[/center]\n\nThe halls were cold, the walls were bare.\nBleach stung the nose, but failed\nTo mask the staleness of wrinkled flesh.\nThe ticking of canes on the granite floor\nEchoed with the squeaking wheels of portable chairs.\nFormal military attire and\nOpen backed medical gowns\nBlend in the room as the audience gathers.\n\nMy solo came too soon for my comfort.\nMy balance waned as knees buckled.\nI left myself, standing aside\nAs I watched myself sing.\nThe voice shaking through to the end.\nSalted lips and a beaded brow\nMeet trembling hands.\n\nCoolness blows through\nThe tightened muscled form.\nThe song has ended, the crowd stands\nAs their weakened hands make muffled claps.\n\nA single man with knots of cloth\nWhere his legs should be\nRolled forward and bade me lean.\n“In Vietnam, I could look a man\nRight in the eye,” he looked up and said.\n“I can pull the trigger and shoot him dead.\nBut I cannot do what you just did.”\nHe extended his hand,\nI took it mine and our eyes met again.\nWhen lips tightened into a smile he said,\n\n“I admire you.”\n\nMy beaded brow dried up in a breath.\nSparkles of gold became seen in the granite tread\nWeaving their way into the walls, the sun\nStill present in the evening stead.\n\nBeside myself again,\nThe fingers still trembled and wiped away \nLiquid crystal from the eyes.\nThere is no greater sense than this,\nA comfort of heart from\nA true life hero\nAdmiring me.\n",
"writing_bbcode_parsed": "Uncomfortable Comfort
The halls were cold, the walls were bare.
Bleach stung the nose, but failed
To mask the staleness of wrinkled flesh.
The ticking of canes on the granite floor
Echoed with the squeaking wheels of portable chairs.
Formal military attire and
Open backed medical gowns
Blend in the room as the audience gathers.
My solo came too soon for my comfort.
My balance waned as knees buckled.
I left myself, standing aside
As I watched myself sing.
The voice shaking through to the end.
Salted lips and a beaded brow
Meet trembling hands.
Coolness blows through
The tightened muscled form.
The song has ended, the crowd stands
As their weakened hands make muffled claps.
A single man with knots of cloth
Where his legs should be
Rolled forward and bade me lean.
“In Vietnam, I could look a man
Right in the eye,” he looked up and said.
“I can pull the trigger and shoot him dead.
But I cannot do what you just did.”
He extended his hand,
I took it mine and our eyes met again.
When lips tightened into a smile he said,
“I admire you.”
My beaded brow dried up in a breath.
Sparkles of gold became seen in the granite tread
Weaving their way into the walls, the sun
Still present in the evening stead.
Beside myself again,
The fingers still trembled and wiped away
Liquid crystal from the eyes.
There is no greater sense than this,
A comfort of heart from
A true life hero
Admiring me.
",
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