Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2019
I cannot thank you enough for the days
where I had a pool of words
I did not know where to place
And if it wasn’t for this microphone
carrying the weight of my day
I would only be the tune
that a hammer makes against the wall

where no matter how dull
the day wrung me, this stage
somehow made canvas out of
my face, and I could go home
and sleep knowing that maybe
I can inspire love when you look at me

Where a tequila with orange juice is only $5
Where the bartender made sure I didn’t drink too much
Where dance music has a conscious
Where an amethyst stone spoke my name
Where the painters aren’t afraid to use their guts as a brush
Where a poet has an audience

Where our existence is reassured

And what else could an artist
possibly want more
when that is what we question
all of the time
I read my poetry at ThirdSpace for ArtNight in Phoenix, but the venue was bought out and it will no longer be. I felt it in my heart to write an ode for this space and what my time there meant to me.
vivian cloudy
Written by
vivian cloudy  az
   Vicki Ann and mila
Please log in to view and add comments on poems