This is a bonus poem for the insanely fun “Get Your Golden Shovel!” poetry collaboration with my good friend Monty over at montysblahg.com. To see the rules for the collaboration click here.

Here is the prompt:

“A poem should be palpable and mute as a globed fruit”

- ‘Ars Poetica’ by Archibald MacLeish (1892 – 1982)

While waiting to read my exhibit A 

In front and alone just me and my poem

Hoping rhyme and meter sound as they should

Nervous knees won’t let me be

Closer it gets anxiety becomes palpable

Itch in my throat, Confidence crumbling, sweaty palms and

Teacher calls, I go mute

The seconds drag kicking and screaming in devastating silence as

Mouth and tongue refuse a 

Embarrassment known round the globed

Mercifully asked to sit in the hallway, to nibble on some fruit