I wanted to start off my speech  with a little poem.
When this poem is over, I want to know if any of you recognize the author.

“On top of a hill, there’s a rose.
This rose get’s sunlight and nutrition from the soil beneath it
Never before has the rose been asked to do a task suitable for garden
When asked today if the rose can grow the grass around it
The rose stood still
Little red rose, I can tell your stem is nervous
The wind is whipping you like a baker and his cream
Put the nerves behind you and begin to water your fellows
Success is only a day away
Tonight the rose watered the garden.”

You probably don’t recognize the author because the author is me.
In August 2010, the beginning of my sophomore year, I picked up poetry.
I kept it to myself.
Most of my friends thought it was lame or stupid to be writing.
Mostly because I’m a guy. They were all interested in cars, sports, parties, you name it.
Where on the other hand, I stood in my living room with music as loud as I can get it, and a pen in my hand.
I didn’t write sad things. Mostly I wrote inspirational pieces.
However, it was to make up for the feelings that I had.
See, I had tricked myself into believing that I wasn’t going anywhere.
I’d given up on myself.
Everyone around me completely believed in me and wanted to see me do something great.
By November, I had gotten into writing to a point where I liked it. I wanted to show someone.
So I showed a few of my writings to my english teacher.
She was awestruck that I had that kind of writing capabilities, and suggested I looked into Slam Poetry, or competitive performance.
I was terrified.
I was 15 going on 16, with no self confidence to speak of.
How was I going to do that?
I wasn’t. There was no way you were going to find me risking what little bit about myself that I liked to be judged by total strangers.


That’s when a few weeks later, there this a gathering in the auditorium.
I walked in and sat down next to a few of my friends to see what was going on.

It was
incredible.
A few poets from Portland had come to our school to perform.
Everything I had been told about performance was right in front of me.
Something, and to this day I don’t know what it was, took control of me.
I marched over to one of the poets on the side of the auditorium, and asked if I could be put on the list of kids who were going to be able to perform.
I waited. My stomach was in knots. I was probably about to throw up
Then I heard it.
My name.
My legs walked up.
I vomited my words sloppily in-front of people.
It was terrible.
But the feeling of doing it....
I was hooked.

I kept writing.
I was told that there was a competition in portland to be put on the first youth slam poetry team to represent maine, ever.
There were five spots
I wanted one.
I practiced in front of my mirror
Memorization and editing was my life after school for about three months.
Until it was time.
The day came that I was suppose to put it all out there.
Three poems.
Three rounds.
Five judges.
One outcome.
I vomited my words all over the audience.
I hated all three of my performances.
Until I heard my scores.
They were almost all tens.
I came in second.
I was on the team.

I’ve performed in other competitions since then, against other poets in their mid thirties who have been writing for years
And beaten them.
I’ve been told my traveling artists that if anyone on the team was to go anywhere, that it’d be me.
By then, I’d only been writing for about a year.
Some kid who liked nothing about himself, from a no name town in Maine,
getting praise from poets who have seen the world and gotten their names put in books for centuries.
I’ve been published.
Twice.
Possibly even putting out my own small book of work, soon.
I never thought it’d get to this level.
I worked and worked and worked until I hated every single poem.
Then I taught myself to love them again.
I kept performing and building my confidence.
I wouldn’t be who I am now without it.
I even took the confidence that I have gained and used it to do something I never thought I’d be able to do.
I joined the National Guard.
I had talked about it since I was a kid, but never had the mindset that I’d actually do it.
But here I am. I’m going to be a medic for the National Guard.
Never had I ever thought of doing something like that.
And I am.

My message to you is that every single one of you have a goal.
Some of you might want to be lawyers, doctors, mechanics, business owners, or even poets.
Do it.
Don’t let anything stop you.
We’ve just met, and I already know you can do it.
But it won’t be handed to you.
You’re going to have to work for it.
I’m living proof, standing in front of you that goals can be accomplished.
I’ll even give you a little hint.
Something that someone I met a few years ago taught me.
False confidence is still confidence.
You just need to do one thing that will terrify you
Risk it all. Put it all on the table for everyone to see.
You’ll be surprised how many people will look up to you for it.
Your dreams are out there
Waiting for you
Before you go to bed tonight
Think about what you can do tomorrow
To make them happen
Thank you