I’ve never considered myself much of a poetry fan. Poetry has always been sort of a “gee, that’s pretty” distraction that I acknowledge occasionally. I’m usually too caught up with the “content, content, content” mantra of online marketing. I haven’t had time to even read a fun book lately.
An editor friend of mine, Faye Quam Heimerl, is also a poet and hosts a “Poetry Slam” at a Westminster coffee house called Forza the 3rd Thursday of every month. I envisioned a bunch of beatniks wearing berets and striped shirts, puffing cigarettes and drinking black coffee, saying “Man!” a lot. I always intended to go, just because it sounded kind of different and Faye was a friend. But I never got around to it. A couple of weeks ago, Faye sent the the notice to me for this month’s gathering and this time she was the featured poet.
So, I went.
Not a beret in sight. Just 25 or 30 people who happened to like poetry and words, imagery, and flights of fancy. I bought a white chocolate mocha and sat down to listen. One by one, people stepped up to the mike to read their own works and sometimes other people’s works. Faye read several of hers as well. I particularly liked the one about the lady in the orange hat.
I loved hearing the words. I had forgotten the beauty of words. Words that had nothing to do with “content” or a Unique Selling Proposition or a Strong Call to Action.
I will definitely go again to just listen. And maybe someday to read something aloud.