I sit here in my home away from home.
I sit on a chair and listen to the loud crowd and louder music.
I sit in wonder as poets take the stage.
Usually I come here to work or play.
Today I come here to listen.
A woman reads about the pain of autism and I think of technology.
A man reads about life and the city and some other funny things I half forget.
A woman reads a meditation on mercy and I want some wine.
I can smell it in the air, mixed with perfume and rain,
And the rain continues as it has for the past two days.
It rains on cars passing by the open door.
It rains on friends in conversation about something I can’t hear.
It rains on an empty street in the old city.
It rains as voices ebb and flow like water.
It rains and I hear the sound of poetry and the poetry of nature.
Now let us dance and find release.
Now let us eat heavy macaroons and drink light wine .
Now let us discuss heavy topics in the light rain.
Now let us network and exchange business cards.
Now let us go and come again.
I wrote this poem after attending the first Red Sofa Salon poetry readings at Indy Hall. Rather than write a blog article I figured I’d try my hand at writing a poem. I did it as sort of a respectful parody of the style I heard that night. At first I didn’t know what I thought of it, but I let it sit for a few days and I actually think it turned out well. I accomplished what I set out to do, so feel good about that. I hope you enjoyed it. I have also made a recording of me reading it. Can a poem have a hyperlink?