Timothy James Webster
The Man Who Lost Himself - Poem by Timothy James Webster
A man stood on stage,
Waiting for his moment,
It was his first time,
His palms moisten by sweat.
There was no thinking,
Nor planning before the show.
Stared at the audience below him,
All seated waiting patiently.
Some were annoyed, some were joyful.
Rows and rows of crowded heads,
Lights shone down on him like a movie star.
The sudden breeze unleashed his fear,
He was desperate for an escape route.
But it was a chance of a lifetime,
And he couldn’t let go.
‘I was a used car salesman before…’
They laughed. He, relieved from pressure,
Knew he would be welcomed here.
Little did he know, the audience chuckled
Not at his joke but at his past.
Because he is the man who lost himself.
Comments about The Man Who Lost Himself by Timothy James Webster
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- IfRudyard Kipling
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda
- TelevisionRoald Dahl