Public Speaking – Hoping It Goes Well!

They say that public speaking

Is what terrifies most folk.

I go along with that

Unbridled fear it can evoke.

The hope is ever present

That nothing will go wrong.

I’ve often thought about it

And the list is very long.

What if I forget my lines

Or stutter, falter, stumble?

Will I speak with confidence

Or will it be a mumble?

And since the year 2000,

The fear my phone will ring

If I forget to turn it off –

That’s embarrassing.

First it’s plays at primary school

At Christmas, the nativity.

I don’t want a speaking part –

Please, please, miss, don’t pick me.

While other kids are jostling

To take the leading role,

I’m shrinking in my seat,

Not feeling very bold.

I’ll be a donkey or a camel

A foal, a cow, a sheep.

Don’t make me speak up front –

Not ready for that leap.

Then came along my adult days,

No more speaking out for me.

How wrong I was on that one

When I studied reflexology.

I started my own business,

Massaging people’s feet.

Now I had to spread the word,

If I were to make ends meet.

Despite my fears, I talked my talk,

Gave demonstrations too.

To WIs, PTAs

And even Methlick School.

Now, along with all my other fears

I added to the list and frowned;

Hope I can find this rural spot

And my car does not break down.

As if giving talks were not enough

I trained and learned to teach

At Aberdeen College, evening class –

This was more than just a speech!

With nerves of wool, I learned to bluff;

I got them through that year.

They passed exams proficiently,

So we went and had a beer.

I did that for a year or two

Hoping nervousness would go.

I have to say, it never did,

But after, there’s a glow.

A feeling of achievement

Of facing my worst fears

And coming out the other end

And not heard any jeers!

Now, in my retirement

As part of my routine

I speak at Poetry in the Park

In the town of Aberdeen.

I’ve still got nerves to cope with,

Hoping all will go just fine,

Hoping there’s no wind or rain,

Hoping that the sun will shine.

It’s not as though it’s vital;

I think it is well-known.

Although it’s daft to feel this way,

I know I’m not alone.