My Idol On Stage


This poem’s about going to see my favorite band perform.


The first time I saw him


Breathtaking. Unforgettable.

I’d cling to every word he’d sing.

I closed my eyes

to savor the moment.

When I reopened them

it happened.

I realized I was sharing

him with everyone there.

He wasn’t just mine.

He belonged to

the people on the floor,

in the doorways,

up in those balconies.

When his music speaks

to me

at home,

it’s as if a dear friend

is whispering to me

their biggest secrets.

A dear friend

who’s there for me

in times of darkness.

I saw my idol a second time.

Going in then

I knew what to expect.

My guard was up,

You couldn’t fool me.

I was mouthing every word

he’d utter

to a favorite song of mine.

Then, it happened.

He changed the words

in that gorgeous melody—

So much so

the meaning was murdered.

I never quite

got over that.

I still treasure his music,

as it so beautifully flows.

But there’s a barrier up

in my heart and mind.

There’s nowhere

for those lyrics

to safely stay.

“Let the poets cry

themselves to sleep,” he says,

as I carefully tuck

his words

and my memories

into my pocket.


About AmbleDamsel

Truthfully, I’m writing this blog because I’m too much of a wimp to share my poems with most people I know. I’m hoping this blog will be a way to get honest feedback about them, without offending anyone. I generally prefer to write privately, and with pen and paper. There’s just something much more therapeutic & enjoyable about actually handwriting something–a better feeling than any lousy keyboard could ever give me! People who inspire me: John Lennon, Keri Smith, Sabrina Ward Harrison, Conor Oberst, Ethel Kennedy, Brooks Strause, Charles Bukowski, Walt Whitman, Emily Dickinson, E.E. Cummings, Charles Dickens, Henry Darger, and Orly Avineri.

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