A famous poet
comes to a big hotel,
and I'm there.
As she reads, I'm supremely
confident about showcasing
my talent for her in a little while.
Finally, she indicates us,
the audience, with a broad
sweep of her arm:
'Now I'd like to see
what you can do! '
Intoxicated with confidence,
I move nearer to her,
biding my time. Nothing
comes to me to recite,
but it will, it will.
She goes on talking. Still
nothing. Then a few
lines sift into my head.
I begin to recite aloud:
'Come to the edge, he said! '
I passionately intone. A young man
sitting behind the poet
knows this short piece
by Apollinaire, with which
my longer poem begins,
and starts reciting it with me:
'They said, We are afraid! '
I tell the fellow to shush.
But the famous poet's attention
is elsewhere now. I'm drowned out
in the general din and chatter.
My face burning red, I leave
and go home to mother.
Max Reif
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-moment-has-come/
