LAUREATE POET            by Emilio Yanez

When I was doing my last year of primary schooling, one Friday morning, a couple of hours before ending our week of classes, our teacher told us about the Primary Schools Festival Week, a yearly activity celebrated by the primary schools of the area. As well as sporting competitions the agenda included a Poetry Competition called “Song to the Queen”, of course meaning the queen of the festival.

-We are a sixth class, so we have to participate - the teacher said. We have two hours to compose a poem for the Queen. After a few minutes the whole class was head down writing, thinking or pretending.

Time was up and after a quick reading of the works, the teacher considered that mine was the one with the best chance. I know he made some insertions before sending it to the committee, as it was the last day to receive entries.

Next Monday about midday, news reached our school. My entry had been selected and the celebrations would start that very afternoon at 2.30 pm at the local cinema. The highlights of the program were the presentation of the Queen of the Festival “Yolanda 1^st” and the reading of the selected poem by the Laureate Poet, and… that was “me”

“Oh great,” I shouted not knowing what was to develop. It was 12.30pm. I rushed home, told Mum everything, she told Dad, who was always too busy. There were things to do like find me better clothes, polishing my old shoes, replace my smelly socks and so on. Finally Dad gave me a few coins to be spent, but only if necessary.

Time was running out. I had to be back at school by 2 pm. My teacher had a black with yellow decorations Mexican charro outfit, ready for me. He ripped off the decorations so I could wear it and not look like a Mexican charro. With me in my new outfit we galloped to the cinema which wasn’t far off. I don’t remember how we got in but I do remember finding myself among large scarlet velvet curtains and at least a dozen of the Queen maids. They were laughing and talking softly while interchanging garments, shoes and some others items. They were all friends and I thought, what about me, none of my friends were with me? What on earth am I doing here among all these girls? Oh, how I wished that my poem hadn’t been selected. I was nervous and fearful. One of the girls approached and smiling asked me,

- What’s your name?

- Emilio -

- I’m Liz and I am one of the Queen’s maids. You are the poet aren’t you?

- Yes -

- Congratulations. I’ll be around, don’t go away –

She gently touched my chin before going back to her group; and I thought, where the hell could I go. Anyhow I felt a little relief, just because someone had talked to me. I gathered my strength to peep through the curtains.

I should never have done it. The cinema was packed with hundreds of small moving heads. I imagined them as hungry eaglets ready to attack me. Ah how they increased my nervousness.

At last my turn came. I clearly heard the announcer saying: -Now you will have the privilege of hearing the Laureate Poet read his poem to Yolanda 1^st.

I looked around hoping it was someone else, but there was nobody nearby.

My teacher appeared from nowhere and signalled me to enter the stage. I trembled and slowly entered. I seemed to be walking on rubber. I stopped in the middle. A flashing look to the audience reminded me of the eaglets.

At my right was Yolanda 1^st surrounded by her maids, all of them so pretty. Gazing to the Queen I started to read my poem the best I could under the circumstances. Having done it, I bowed to the Queen then to the audience and as slowly as I came on I left the stage.

Once behind the curtains I breathed deeply, I was still nervous but I said to myself:

- It doesn’t matter I am the Laureate Poet