I'm less inclined to share my poems these days, not because I fear judgment, I'm just hardly ever satisfied. I wonder if movie directors feel this way. I tend to toil, edit, and revise works that I've written years ago. An ungratifying pursuit really, like the covering of a tattoo who's meaning has changed...a bitter sweet and fleeting satisfaction.
The invitation has me thinking about writing some poems intended solely for reciting. The thought of being able to infuse humor, facial expressions, and dramatic pause is tempting. These elements are lost when words are fettered to paper. When people read your poems, they don't always pause where you want them to, or pronounce a word just so. They conjure different worlds. My words merely a bridge to a place all their own. One in which only their imagination can take them. At times I wish I could go there.
Hearing my words floating through an eager coffee shop like the permeating, hypnotic aroma of a freshly made cappuccino would be magical. Casting a spell on caffeinated hipsters and baby boomers...enticing them not to construct their own worlds with the power of rhyme and metaphorical prose, but to take a ride with me instead. Trusting that while the destination is unknown, the journey would be worth the wait. Well.....at least devoid of grammatical errors.