Loose Leaf Notes

An overflowing crowd packed the Café del Sol for June’s Spoken Word Open Mic. With the warm glow of evening sun streaming in, the café was abuzz with a celebratory din left over from the town's Jubilee festival that day. There was pizza eating, card playing, cappuccino sipping, and socializing, but all quieted to a hush when the readers took to the stage.

Three members of the Floyd Writer’s Circle, Rosemary Wyman, Mara Robbins, and I opened the evening with poetry interpretations to Lora Geissler’s abstract art that hung on the Café Walls. Eight contributors to the new spring issue of Floyd County Moonshine shared their literary talents. Two poets visiting from Washington D.C. joined the performing line-up, along with returning members of the Spoken Word community and a couple of first time readers.

Mara, Floyd County Moonshine’s new associate editor and acting emcee, stood on the café coffee table, projecting her voice over the crowd, welcoming them and reviewing the open mic guidelines. With twenty-eight readers of short stories, poetry, essays, and excerpts from novels and memoirs, the ten minute reading slots had to be cut back to five minutes.

The first Moonshine reader Charles Swanson, who teaches creative writing and composition at Gretna High School, followed Mara’s lead and stood on the coffee table until café owner Sally Walker arrived with the PA system that someone said she borrowed from the Floyd Country Store. Ropes of spider webs hanging …from the low log lintel … we knocked back with a stick … and Granddad made … with twigs and tobacco twine … a broom to sweep the floor, Swanson read from a poem titled "Broom" about reclaiming a barn from an overgrown tobacco patch. He also read a poem about the drinkable kind of Moonshine, which was written from a variety of voices.

“I don’t think I can shout haiku,” I said when it was my turn to share my minute of tiny poems inspired by Lora’s paintings. By the time I returned to the stage later in the evening for the four minutes remaining of my five minute slot, I was speaking into a mic. From my “Fit to Be Quipped” punch line series excerpted from my blog, I read, My husband Joe has thick curly hair. When my kids were little and Joe needed a haircut, they would tease him by calling him “Ofra” Winfrey. Now when he needs a haircut we just call him Rob Blagojevich. Although I could perfectly pronounce “Blagojevich” all through the day, when I read it on stage I needed the help of the audience to get it right.

Other Floyd County Moonshine contributors reading included Floyd Moonshine editor Aaron Moore, author Neva Bryan, Emory and Henry teacher Felicia Mitchell, Radford poet Cynthia Ring, Hollins University Creative Writing student Sharon Mirtaheri, and Floyd’s own Jayn Avery, who Mara introduced as “potter by trade and writer by impulse.”

Before reading an excerpt from his novel Barn Blazing, Aaron told the crowd that the deadline for the summer Floyd County Moonshine is June 30. It will be an all Floyd edition, he said.

Civilizations crumbled beneath me—a plethora of insects and spiders fled beneath the swipes of the pendulating scythe. I, being a veritable voyeur, only relented at the sight of one thing: preying mantis sex. The male was much lesser in stature than the female, propped on the female’s back sitting rigid while hugging her reddish-purple thorax. She was a massive creature compared to him, beautiful in an alien sort of fashion. When they were alerted to my presence, she bore him with her and he held on. ~ From Barn Blazing by Aaron Moore

Post notes: Contributors pictured reading from Floyd Country Moonshine are Charles Swanson, Cynthia Ring, Felicia Mitchell, and Sharon Mirtaheri. Submissions to Floyd County Moonshine, a regional literary and art magazine, should be sent as an attachment to floydshine@gmail.com. Inquiries about advertising and subscriptions can also be made at that address. Copies of Moonshine are available in cafes around town for $7.

Posted by Colleen at 9:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

One might have thought that April’s Spoken Word would bring seasonal poems about spring, Earth Day, or even taxes. But what we got included a letter from Julius Caesar, some frolicking ferrets, a dead orange, and an adaptation of The Raven involving an appendectomy (quote the surgeon nevermore). Although, Neva Brown did return to the Café del Sol stage, reading a short story from her book with a side line theme of forest clear cutting, and I read my inch worth of poetic praise for forsythia.

We all rubbed our hands together and reported the results as Greg led us in an audience participation demonstration of a martial arts exercise designed to feel energy before reading his poetry. Gloria asked rhetorically, ‘aren’t all my poems about death, really?’ before sharing hers.

One of the evening's highlights was a performance piece delivered by two members of the Floyd High School Forensics team, Bedelia Burris-McGrath and Kaya Norton (pictured). It was a poignant and tightly delivered dramatic scene from a play about Alice on LSD and her alter ego/witness, a talking stuffed rabbit from her childhood. Bedelia returned to the stage later to be a back up dancer (a jig in this case) for a friend who sang an Irish song. ”If anyone has the urge to sing along, they can leave right now,” the singer joked.

Another highlight was when Mara (second from left) led an impromptu group in an adaptation of a creative writing class exercise called The Stereotype Poets’ Hall of Fame. She enlisted a stellar line-up of other readers who convincingly played the parts of Classic Poet, Beat Poet, Gothic Poet, Angry Poet, Secret Poet, Hip-Hop Poet, and Professor Poet.

A David Bowie song, the expansive shores of a king sized bed, and the image of young men swimming still linger. I left at 10:00 with readings still going on, so who knows what happened next.

Post notes: That's Stephania reading a comical short story about ferrets. For more pictures and narrative on Floyd's Third Saturday Spoken Word Night, click HERE and scroll down.

Posted by Colleen at 12:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

The Rubik Cube was invented in 1974 by Erno Rubik, a Hungarian sculptor and professor of architecture, Abraham Wolf Cherrix told the overflow crowd at March's Spoken Word night at the Café del Sol. Wolf followed that comment by announcing he would solve the puzzle in less than 3 minutes for his open mic reading slot. His friend provided a drum roll of sorts while another audience member kept track of time. The crowd erupted in applause when the Young Actor’s Coop member triumphantly held up the completed puzzle in just under three minutes, causing one to wonder what might be next for the spoken word; jugglers, magicians?

Before reading his poetry, Greg Locke expressed his appreciation for being a part of such a special scene, where young people and older people come together and listen to each other. “I love this venue. People aren’t just performing up here; they’re opening up. This just doesn’t happen. It should,” he said.

16 readers signed up for 5 or 10 minute stage slots which ran from 7 to 10 p.m. with a break halfway through. Extra chairs were brought in from a neighboring venue to accommodate the crowd. Editor of Floyd County Moonshine Aaron Moore, who read an excerpt from his novel published in the latest Moonshine, announced that the summer issue of the literary and arts publication would be dedicated to Floyd writers. Submissions for the spring issue can be sent to floydshine@gmail.com before the April 30th deadline.

Props and poets, two storytellers, an original song sung acapella by young Kyla Robbins (listen HERE), a reading of The Raven, a poignant piece about the tragedy of mental illness, a tribute to a marriage and another to a friend, and even some printed out email jokes were shared.

Poet Mara Robbins read in conversation with fellow poet Rosemary Wyman before standing on the coffee table to deliver her dramatic performance of a poem written by slam poet/activist Andrea Gibson. Gibson recently performed at Mara’s school, Hollins University. (Listen to Andrea HERE).

Roanoke Market vender Penny Lane told a story of being bowled over by love at the Market by a group of children who wanted to hug her goodbye after she led them in a sing-a-long with her guitar. Cheryl Spangler had the house laughing with her story of a kayak trip gone wrong. There was mention of a vampire, a banshee, a Snow Queen, Jesus, and a dysfunctional old boyfriend who had the gall to ask poet Gloria Gerritz, “Am I still in your will?”

You just had to be there.

Post notes: The third Saturday Spoken Word is a community outreach to promote the Spoken Word in the community. This Open Mic event is hosted by members of the Floyd Writers Circle and the Café del Sol in Floyd. The next Spoken Word will take place on April 18th at 7:00 p.m. All literary styles are welcome and beginners are encouraged to take a turn at the mic. Photos in order of appearance are: 1. Wolf Cherrix, Rubix master and the evening's emcee. 2. The crowd. 3. Aaron Moore. 4. Crowd. 5. Mara with Rosemary to her left. 6. Crowd. 7. Gloria reading.

Posted by Colleen at 6:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (11)

There was no drinking and driving involved in the ride from Floyd down the Pig Path into Radford. And the only moonshine proof there was to be enjoyed was in the readings from the second edition of Floyd County Moonshine at the Coffee Mill on Main Street.

Moonshine, in this case, refers to the “flavor” of the local literary and art magazine, put out by editor Aaron Moore and associate editor Jay Settle. Even the character in Aaron's short story in the first issue, “13 Titanium Screws,” traveled on the Pig Path and others in that edition drank moonshine, hung out in bars, or on Bourbon Street.

Jay read a poem about an elderly man with a cane and his wife walking like “flowers bending slightly,” probably on their way to “Cracker Barrel.” But I swear I saw them in Applebees.

One poem that stood out in my memory was a quirky one from Java lover Chelsea Adams about a woman named Bess who eats blades of grass at a picnic, forgets her sandwich, and then expresses breast milk for Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. I just didn’t expect that.

The cappuccino steam machine sounded like a spaceship landing. A guy with a skateboard only came in and out of the coffeehouse front door when Moonshine associate editor Jay was at the mic introducing readers.

There was a strange juxtaposition between Peter Pan and Jesus when Mara Robbins and I read poems in dialogue about each. And when Katherine Chantal said, “What coffee is to Chelsea, tea is to me and then read “Brewing a Poem,” I told her she should take a cup with her next time for a prop.

Three Radford English teachers and some of their students. Three from Floyd Writer’s Circle and others. RU teacher Jim Minick is working on a memoir about his blueberry farming days in Floyd, he said. Katherine and I left at intermission, so that’s all she wrote.

Got Moonshine? floydshine@gmail.com.

Posted by Colleen at 12:41 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)

Sitting in the wallflower chair in the far corner of the café at February’s Spoken Word night, I realized that my nerves at poetry readings are directly related to the size of the crowd that turns out. The bigger it is the bigger they are. From my corner perch I counted 45 people. This is a small town. Chairs had to be brought in from the Winter Sun Music Hall. Where is my comfy couch when I need it?

Café del Sol owner Sally was in form as the emcee ring leader. “I’ll be short and sweet. I’m already short and sweet," said the five-foot musician barista.

The usual suspects were joined by a few first-timers. One newcomer to the café stage, Christine Behrens, begged her cat Lotus not to bring dead mice in the house by way of a poem she read while wearing my borrowed reading glasses. She also read an ode to life in Floyd, saying that poetry has been flowing since she’s been in here.

Several read from the hot-off-the-press second printing of the Floyd’s new literary and arts magazine, Floyd Country Moonshine. Wise Countian author Neva Bryan saved her Moonshine flavor, "The Devil’s Better Half," for the end of the evening because of its subject matter. “How R rated can a girl from Wise County be?” Sally asked as she called Neva up for a second reading. Sex, drugs, and jail Dixie Chicks style (reminiscent of their song "Earl") was the answer.

Jayn Avery read a poem about an abandoned house and the sap being tapped from the maple trees on her farm. Katherine Chantal announced a new genre of poems to add to her signature tea poems. Grandchildren. ‘Will it be a boy or a girl?’ she asked in a poem dealing with the adjustment she had to make learning the sex of her grandchildren early by way of high tech machinery.

Don Nathan read from The Tao of Pooh, followed by his first poem in 30 years. And did you know that Pluto was now a verb? After poet Mara Robbins explained that “pluto” now means "to demote," she read “Pluto takes out the garbage,” inspired by the recent meteor that fell in Texas.

Both Aaron Moore and Jay Settle, editor and co-editor of Floyd County Moonshine, read works of some of the magazine’s contributors who were unable to attend the open mic. Jay also read his poem “Canning Season,” and Aaron read from a novel he’s working on called "Barn Blazing."

“Speak now or forever hold your peace,” Young Actor’s Coop (YAC) actor Cameron Woodruff, who can’t hold his peace, read while wearing the dark sunglasses of his adopted brother Wolf, who recently attended a Spoken Word as Darth Vader, causing barista Ann to shout from the latte steamer behind the counter, “How does Darth Vader look like John Lennon?” We all sent Wolf (Abraham Cherrix) our well wishes upon hearing that he has pneumonia.

YAC actor Bedila McGrath read a well told and moving story she wrote in her high school English class called "The Deer in the Woods."

Along with two new poems, I read my Moonshine contribution "Jesus Paints Graffiti" … Jesus wears a bathrobe and reads the obituaries … He has a long braid like Willie Nelson’s … He drinks his tea black … leaves the cap off the toothpaste … and never uses an ATM machine …

Gloria Gerritz went to Kent State? Or was that poem fiction? Laura… Heather…. Stephanie…I forgot to bring home the sign up sheet, so I’m likely forgetting some readers. It was a thoroughly entertaining evening. The 7-9 time slot morphed into 7-10:30

Post notes: The Floyd County Moonshine can be purchased in local Floyd cafes for $7. Photos: 1. Crowd 2. Christine Behrens 3. Neva Bryan 4. Aaron Moore. Click and scroll HERE for more Spoken Word posts with photos.

Posted by Colleen at 10:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

1. It was a rainy night, five days before Christmas, so I wasn’t expecting much of a turnout for the third Saturday Spoken Word night at the Café Del Sol. But when I arrived, I flung open the door and there was Darth Vader, Mrs. Claus, and a birthday party with cake being passed around the room full of people.

2. Telling us it was "Bring Your Kid to Work Day," Darth called Luke up to the mic for a skit in which he explained that he was Luke’s real father. Luke didn’t take it well. At the end of his 10 minute time slot, Darth revealed the face behind the mask.

3. Sam read a short story. Gloria read a poem about a classified ad and motorcycle ride. Greg read a piece spurred by the low turnout for the Veteran’s Day Parade, and Rosemary read about her children growing up and leaving home. There were nineteen readers in all, a few were first timers. Others spoke of taking writing classes at the Writers’ Bloc, run by Haden Polseno-Hensley a block down the street.

4. It was Heather’s birthday and Laura (who also read) baked the cake. The whole room joined in a Happy Birthday song to Heather when she took her turn at the mic (photo is of Heather receiving our song). She spoke about being moved by last month’s event at the Black Water Loft, her first Spoken Word Open Mic, and said she couldn’t wait for the next one. She belted out an Erykah Badu song that she has sang as a girl’s camp counselor, one about lightening the load of emotional baggage. Confessing that she has no aspirations to be a singer, she told us that singing in public scares her and that singing for us was a way to face her fears.

5. It’s always a pleasure when singer and Café del Sol owner Sally MC’s the monthly event. She introduces each reader with a knack for ad lib. “You’re not going to steal my band,” she joked after Heather sang.

6. The youth of Floyd was well represented, with at least four members of Young Actors Coop in the house, each one took a turn at the mic demonstrating their theatrical flair. Crystal (not a member, pictured above), a recent Floyd High graduate, read some stream of consciousness power packed poetry from her laptop.

7. I read the entire contents of my new TEAPOET chapbook, but because the meditative poems in it were all short … serving up sips of haiku and other poetic brew … it fell well under the 10 minute time slot limit. Rose, who later read a poem about a rose, took the photo of me. That’s my New Castle beer on the table (too late in the night for tea) and my basket of writer’s wares (books) that I have taken to carrying around.

8. Mara read new poetry and also joined with her daughter Kyla in song. The announcement of THIS song brought cheers and some sang along.

9. Associate editor of Floyd’s new literary and art publication, Floyd County Moonshine, Jay Settle returned after attending last month’s event at the Black Water Loft where we featured readings from the publication. Jay, an English teacher in Radford, read one of his poems.

10. The open mic is not limited to poetry, storytelling, and literature, or even accapella song. Mrs. Claus ended the night with some humor, which included a question for Santa and for us. “Does this red suit make my butt look big?” she asked as she spun around.

Post note: For more posts on past Spoken Word's click HERE and scroll down.

Posted by Colleen at 1:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (11)

We were short on chairs and long on readers at November’s Spoken Word Open Mic. A record-breaking twenty readers performed to an overflowing enthusiastic crowd. Rose and the crew at the Blackwater Loft did a great job accommodating the last minute change in venue (due to a concert in the hall adjacent to the Café Del Sol where we regularly meet) and the unprecedented evening's turnout. Mara, with her resume-building MC talents, stepped up and did the introductions, beginning with one for the Floyd County Moonshine, Floyd’s new Literary and Arts Magazine.

The magazine’s editor, Aaron Moore, was the first of four writers to read their work from the magazine’s first issue. Moore and others, such as the magazine’s associate editor, English teacher Jay Settle, also read the work of writers included in the publication who weren’t in attendance. Cara Williams, the magazine’s art director, was also in the house.

I wish everyone who read would have made copies of their work and handed them to me at the end of the night because I’d love to be able to see and hold in my hands all the memorable lines and descriptive images that floated in and out of my sensibilities throughout the course of the three hour event.

I recall a funny poem that Gloria read about her slipping into the wrong life and someone else living hers. I hate her for it too … she said. Chelsea’s “sleeping is better in the bath” played out like a lullaby. Katherine’s poem about watching her granddaughter in Spain on Skype gave me a shiver. Jayn’s ode to the color brown was followed by Rosemary’s yielding the green of spring and summer to the welcomed orange shades of fall.

Every now and then I’d peer behind me and feel bad for all the people who were standing in the aisle. My husband Joe brought a contingency of five from the Earthsong Retreat in Stuart, meditators who didn’t seem to mind sitting on cushions on the floor.

The Earthsong group left at the intermission and before hearing Sam read his powerful political piece about the recent election, asking what happened to the revolution; why didn’t we vote for one of the peace candidates; and who will speak for the Palestinians?

Fourteen year old Coriander, a Young Actors Coop (YAC) member, talked about working on the Obama campaign even though she’s too young to vote. She followed that by doing Rumi in sign language. Her brother and fellow YAC member, Cameron, talked about The Earthsong Teen Meditation Retreat and recited a poem he wrote while on retreat there this past the summer.

Mars, another YAC member and Spoken Word regular, is taking a poetry block in school and read some of his recent prolific writings. He shared the stage with his Mom, Sue, who read several poems, one about the realities of poverty.

Mara, who not only writes a yard worth of poetry to my inch but can memorize it too, pointed out how brave everyone was to share their work, saying she was thankful for a forum that could give voice to so many views.

Rose Cherrix read a “statement” from her son Abraham in which he mentioned several people in the room and apologized for missing the event. In the end he asked for a round of applause that he hoped he could hear at his house, where he was busy working online.

Haden, who heads up "The Writers' Bloc" and is currently teaching a class on memoir writing, transported me, once again, into the believable world of his fiction. Rowan returned and newcomer Heather read several succinct and lyrical rhymes from her Facebook introduction and introduced us to her non-political Canadian husband.

Kyla provided the sweet dessert to the evening’s full fare of entertainment with an accapella song, sealing the sense of community that so many of us were feeling.

P.S. No one answered to the name Brook, number 6 on the sign up sheet, because in actuality the word said Break, as in intermission. It was written so small that I was able bump my way in line by adding my name as reader number 6B.
It was either that or be reader number 16 and I needed to be put out of misery (the thought of reading in front of a large audience) much sooner than that.

Photos: 1. Group shot. 2. Mara holding up Floyd County Moonshine. 3. Floyd County Moonshine's Cara Williams, Aaron Moore, and Jay Settle. 4. Kyla, Rose C, and Gloria. 5. Susan and Mars. 6. Katherine reads. More about Floyd County Moonshine HERE. Click HERE and scroll down for more Spoken Word stories and photos.

Posted by Colleen at 10:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

A couple plays a game of Shogi, a man works at his laptop, a tourist stretches out on the Café Del Sol comfy couch reading a book to the sound of barista Melissa grinding coffee beans for lattes.

Young, soon-to-be thirteen years old Mars, a frequent spoken word open mic participant, offers to be the evening’s MC because the cafe owner and host, Sally, was at a singing engagement a few doors down at the Floyd Country Store.

Mars welcomes the crowd to the third anniversary of the spoken word in Floyd and then, as the blender becomes silent, he kicks off the entertainment with a poem about a tree full of apples swinging and agreeing in the breeze. I sit between the gaps of the knobby roots … he reads.

Abraham Wolf is writing fervently in between Japanese chess turns. When his name is called from the sign-up sheet, he shares his impromptu on the spot poem about all the things he saw on the café table.

There's a poem by Steve titled "Why all the Cursing" and one by Rosemary called “Girl Jumps Off Rope Swing.”

I read my latest, a poem with a title like Prince’s name (five asterisks *****) about why poets like to write poems with stars in them. Using my poetic political license I then read a few punch lines from my blog. The one about imagining women of power (other than Sarah Palin) winking while giving speeches – like Condi Rice, Margaret Thatcher, and Janet Reno – got some good laughs.

The laughing continues with Cheryl, a storyteller and former public school teacher who tells a humorous story about when she taught Mars. He comes back from the bathroom when she was in the middle of the story. Surprised to hear his name being mentioned, he sheepishly says, “Is that you, Miss Spangler?”

Greg reads a poem and tells a story of a recent medical close call. He says he’s arrived at a point in his life where he no longer feels the need to “seize the day” but has decided slow down and simply embrace each one.

Newcomer Rowan charms us with her reading of four original poems. At the end of the night I ask her how she found her way to the Spoken Word. She explains that she had just walked in the café to work on her poems and saw the Spoken Word announcement sign on the door and so stayed to participate.

Rose Cherrix also tells a story, one about approaching a stranger in the café and the friendly interaction that followed. She reads a poem in honor of the third anniversary, titled “Spoken Word.” My parents always said … Speak when spoken to … Now that I am a parent … I do not say that to my children … I want to hear what they say … I want to know them … She leaves us with an address of a young woman she knows who has Hodgkin’s Disease, the same kind of cancer that her son Abraham bravely battled. “Go to her mom’s blog (helpmegan.org) and leave a comment. They really need the support,” Rose says.

Photos: 1. Abraham and friend. 2. Mars MC's. 3. Rowan reads. 4. Rose reads. Hear Sally sing HERE. Scroll down HERE for more Spoken Word photos and stories.

Posted by Colleen at 8:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

We could see the sun set from the Café Del Sol comfy couch at September’s Spoken Word. It filled the café with a golden glow and shone on early readers at the open mic. A few of us were slightly overdressed in fancier than normal clothing, having come from our friend Jeri’s wedding earlier in the day. It was also Jayn’s birthday and she received a few gifts, some in the manner of Mary Oliver poems read and dedicated to her.

The name Palin was mentioned at the mic, by way of poetic license. There was a paradoxical theme, introduced by Wolf and carried on by Chelsea, who read a poem about Pro-life/Pro-choice …except when … except when … except when. Mara brought a brown paper grab bag of poems from which audience members picked. I read my summer beach vacation report in the form of one-liners: In a pinch when I’m at the beach without a notebook, I can write on a clam box menu using my flip flop sandal for a desk.

First time reader Gloria read several poems. She received a rousing round of applause for her poem about retirement, the humor of which was reminiscent of Jenny Joseph’s "When I’m Older I Shall Wear Purple." Jayn confessed that she was an “Old Hippie” with title of her latest poem. Greg read “When Our Beards Were Brown,” and other poems.

Steve Saft (pictured above) returned to the mic after a long absence. He read three new poems, one of which urged gratefulness for “Another Day of Life.” The final stanza of that poem read, Focus on the now, not on what you think is missing. Be grateful you can still have that latest obsession— money, family, the unpublished books. Old as you are, old poet, you still are, and from you, we do not have that final verse.

Steve, a Carroll County resident who is currently recovering from a serious illness, has a new book out. It’s an adventure story told in the form of a narrative poem. The book, titled Murdoch Mcloon and His Windmill Boat is available for sale at Xlibris and Amazon.com. You can read more it and about Steve’s previously published book on at his website HERE.

Fellow teapoet, Katherine soothed the audience with her poem titled, "Day with Darjeeling." Mara’s daughter Kyla (pictured above) closed the evening with a sweetly sung acapella song. You can hear of clip of her singing HERE.

Posted by Colleen at 8:41 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

Mara’s introduction for Hollins University writing teacher Thorpe Moeckel at the Café Del Sol was so well crafted and delivered that Thorpe thought maybe he shouldn’t read any poetry, after all. Her words were a hard act to follow. But follow them he did, taking us listeners on a ride through Alaska, Maine, and North Carolina, where we met his grandfather, father, a pecan farmer, some kids who were court ordered to take one of his rafting trips, and more.

I was intrigued by a man who has been published in Orion and Mothering, and was touched when he said that he reads better when his wife is in the audience. His passion for river rafting and words converged in a way that made me want to go home and write poetry, or never write it again. I laughed, got some emotionally charged goose bumps, and sometimes just drifted in the tide of his words, hanging my arm over the side of the Café Del Sol's comfy couch.

After the reading, Thorpe -- a thoroughly likable guy who almost moved to Floyd once -- signed books and answered questions. “How do you teach poetry?” my friend Jayn asked him. I think he answered something related to rafting, something about going with the flow.

Mike Mitchell (left) who teaches fiddle at the Floyd Country Store left the lights on in his car all day. And so it was an unlikely ending to a poetry reading. Everyone left charged up.

Post Notes: Thorpe’s books Making a Map of the River and Odd Botany can be purchased on Amazon HERE and HERE. Scroll down HERE for more Spoken Word posts. The third photo of Alli C and Mara was taken by Tracey Ann because I wasn't tall enough to score the shot.

Posted by Colleen at 10:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (14)

The monthly Café Del Sol Spoken Word schedule got changed and the announcement never made it into the Floyd Press. Even so, on the merit of The Museletter (our community newsletter), word-of-mouth, and one flyer hanging on the café door, June’s event on Saturday night ended up being well attended.

But a certain someone who shall remain nameless smoked some pot before we got started and came down with an anxiety attack. Everyone wondered what was wrong with her and why she didn’t read her own poem at the mic. A surrogate read it for her, my favorite line of which was, “I’m one of those assholes who writes prose poetry.”

When it was my turn, I read a few poems, preceded by my essay about the “accessibility” of Billy Collins poetry and how Collins’ thinks the word accessible suggests ramps for the poetically handicapped. For the rest of the evening I heard comments like, “but is it accessible,” or “Look, I think Walter needs a ramp for that one.”

Mara’s "Praise" poem was powerful and needs to be published somewhere soon. Chelsea’s poetry knocked my pink flip flops off. Rosemary shared some recently remodeled poetry and a fairytale that George Carlin might have written if he had been a woman. Previously published in Mothering Magazine, the piece, titled "Snow White and the Seven Menstrual Dwarves," had the crowd in uproarious laughter.

Sally, The Countess of Coffee, introduced us up to the mic by our tag lines, coined by Tom Ryan, our local satirist who pens the online “ Floyd Enquirer.” Ryan tagged Mara “Mara Drama O’Rama” and me “Soul Crusher,” because of the book I wrote about grief and loss. Sally may be the Countess of Coffee but Chelsea, author of Java Poems, decided she was the queen. Mara made a paper napkin Coffee Queen crown and presented Chelsea with it, placing it on her head.

Those of us who help promote and host the spoken word are thrilled that the event has been drawing a teen following. Seventeen year old Cameron, a local Young Actors Cooperative member who introduced himself as King of the Hobbits, was a first-timer at the mic. He decided to try an experiment and use his ten minute time slot to talk off the top of his head about his life. He shared that his parents wouldn’t mind if he stopped wearing his hobbit cloak around town and that he recently had a girlfriend that had more swords than him. “Don’t quote me on anything,” he said as he left the mic (eight minutes early). Rosemary reminded him that I was in audience and he would probably be reading all about it on my blog or in the Floyd Press sometime soon.

Gannon told a story, recited some short poetry and promised to write some of his own soon. Sam read an eye opening thoughtful excerpt from his memoir about growing up in Beirut in the midst of civil war. Rose read a tribute to her son Abraham for his recent eighteenth birthday. His birthday was a milestone for their family. She and her husband had to fight the courts for Abraham’s right to refuse chemo/radiation treatment when he was battling Hodgkins Disease, even though he was given a slim chance of surviving it. At eighteen Abraham is healthy and free now to make his own health choice decisions.

Abraham read a poem about a wolf. He brought his friend Liz, visiting from Florida, who also read. She had the coolest full length sneaker boots with snazzy striped socks to go with them. I took a picture of her reading and when I was downloading it, later at home, my fingers slipped and it ended up as my screen saver and now I don’t know how to get it off. I like her sneakers but not that much.

Post note update: (N)ameless is fine and vowed off pot from this point on.

Photos: 1. Abraham and Rose Cherrix, and Liz 2. Lauri came up from Roanoke. 3. Last reader of the evening, Allie B. 4. Cameron who ad-libbed, holds up his timer. 5. Sam's wife, Gannon, Sam. 6. My new screen saver. Click HERE and scroll for more Spoken Word stories and photos.

Posted by Colleen at 11:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (15)

Contrary to Tom Ryan’s Floyd Enquirer report of a full contact mud wrestling poetry slam for the title of High Priestess of Poetry, there was no mud, or even mud pies, at May’s Spoken Word night at the Café Del Sol. There wasn’t even any chocolate cake, which might have been expected considering that it was my birthday.

No mud pies, no chocolate; but there were poems, some of which were written for me in celebration of my birthday. No mud slinging, no slamming, no world titles were won; but there were words, a limerick, storytelling, and stand-up comedy.

In Tom Ryan’s satirical mind, I’m known as Colleen “Soul Crusher,” which I suspect refers to the fact that reading my book The Jim and Dan Stories made him cry. Fitting of that title, I read a seven minute essay of the tearjerker variety, but not before waving a picture of my new grandchild and bragging about his good looks to the audience.

Mara Robbins, referred to as Mara “Drama O-Rama” by Tom, did a dramatic limerick with Rosemary Wyman that they had written over a Scrabble board especially for me: There once was a colleen from Floyd … who didn’t get pissed off or annoyed … but she had a goal … of crushing your soul … behavior that’s best left to Freud.

Café owner Sally Walker, who Tom calls the Countess of Coffee, excused herself as MC with a note, claiming that she was consoling her husband Frank who was in hiding after being outed by Tom. Mara read Sally’s note to the crowd, which closed by saying that (seeing as how she is the Countess of Coffee and all) she would get back to work as soon she pleases.

Justin Winters grabbed up a large green and white golf umbrella that was leaning against the wall and, using it as a mock microphone, filled in for Sally. Reading the names off the sign-up sheet, he called us up one-by-one to the mic, alternating ad-libbed stand-up with his master of ceremonies duties. He also performed an original poetic rap when his own name, which he pronounced in a French accent, came up on the list.

Jayn Avery had a new poem written while selling pottery at the Roanoke Market earlier in the day. Rose Cherrix wondered why she brought a white feather until she heard me read my piece, in which both black and white feathers played roles. At the end of the night, she gifted me with her perfect white feather in honor of my new grandson Bryce Gabriel.

In the background, we occasionally heard evidence of the Young Actors Co-op Production of “The Amazing Wonderful Theatre Variety Show” being performed in the back of the building, in the Winter Sun Hall. Some of us, some of time claimed their applause as our own, even though there was plenty of clapping in our part of the building. (I wondered if any of the young actors took bows to our applause.)

Felicia Mitchell, one of the readers at the Southern Appalachian Writers Cooperative and the Floyd Writers Circle poetry swap at the Floyd Country Store last month, drove an hour and a half from another part of Virginia to read her poetry, which was well received. Hayden Polseno-Hensley returned to the mic with a poetic list of do’s and don’ts. He spent part of the night in the café and part next door at the YAC Variety Show, where a skit he had written was being performed.

Chelsea Adams dedicated her six word memoirs to me, after I read a group of them last month and challenged others to write some. Her prophetic poem written on the morning of April 16, before the Tech shooting, was chilling. Sam and his wife played Scrabble when he wasn’t reading from his chapbook. Rose’s son, Abraham, told a funny story about oysters being confused with ponies on Chincoteague Island. Two first time readers braved the mic.

Katherine Chantal, who Tom has named “TeaTime” Chantal should have won a prize for being number one on the sign up sheet of thirteen readers. It was a first, going first for her.

Photos: 1. Katherine reading in the background to the birthday girl in the foreground who turned around to listen right after this was shot was taken. 2. Mara and Rosemary perform a singing telegram limerick to Colleen. 3. Mara and Justin enjoy the show. 4. It was a good turnout. Chelsea up front. 5. Sam's wife had two seven letter bingos. 6. Hayden about to make us laugh.

Posted by Colleen at 8:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

This story was published in The Floyd Press on May 1, 2008. It was also featured on the newspaper's website HERE.

"This is getting to be a real good smelling poetry reading,” said visiting poet Jim Webb in reference to the scent of popcorn coming from the front of the Floyd Country Store.

Webb and seven other members of The Southern Appalachian Writers Cooperative (SAWC) were at the Country Store Friday afternoon for a round-robin poetry swap with members of the Floyd Writers Circle. The evening before, the visiting writers attended an event at Radford University (RU), celebrating the publication of All There is to Keep, a book of poetry by Rita Riddle, an RU English professor and SAWC member who died of cancer in 2006.

Webb works for Appalshop, a media arts center in Kentucky that produces documentaries, some of which have aired nationally on PBS. He was recording the Floyd readings for Kentucky’s WMMT FM, a mountain community, listener-supported station affiliated with Appalshop.

Floyd Press columnist Fred First, both a member of SAWC and the Floyd Writer’s Circle, hosted the Floyd event. Robert Cumming, Iris Press book publisher from Tennessee, was also present.

Readings of mostly poetry spanned subjects ranging from love and death to farming and tea drinking.

First read an essay from his book, Slow Road Home, about his childhood dread of asparagus. … My parents claimed this was a vegetable. To my mind, this vile substance was never anything more than a green poison created by children-loathing adults on the other side of the Iron Curtain ...”

Dana Wildsmith, whose most recent book, One Good Hand, is a reference to her life of alternating farm chores with writing poetry, read a poem called “Southern Love Poem.” … You’re slicker than Talladega, as classic as Gone with the Wind, more hometown than Patty Loveless or REM, sweeter than Iris Dement. How could my heart not be yours? … Wildsmith, a teacher of writing and an ESL instructor from Georgia, authored a poem titled "Making a Living,” which was read on NPR by Garrison Keillor.

Webb, wearing a bright pistachio green shirt with one of his poems printed on it, read an impassioned poem decrying mountaintop removal. He lives on the second highest mountain peak in Kentucky, second in height only to another peak that he can see from his home, which is being strip-mined, he explained. … As close to heaven as you can get … Why doesn’t God complain … Call the cops … he read. Webb told the group, “until they stop mountain removal, I’m going to read this poem at every reading.”

Radford University teacher and former Floyd Countian Jim Minick edited the posthumously published book of Riddle's poetry and hosted the Thursday night book release event at RU. At the Floyd reading, Minick read some of his new poetry that will be included in a soon to be published collection. He spoke of the readings the night before and the impact of hearing SAWC members read Riddle’s poems. Members of SAWC and Iris Press were involved in the publication of All There is to Keep, and many were friends of Riddle.

Chelsea B. Adams, Floyd poet and writing teacher at RU, joined the circle, reading poems that Riddle had commented on when she and Riddle were in the same writers workshop group. Adams is author of Looking for a Landing, and Java Poems.

Other SWAC members attending were Ron Houchin, who has had three poetry books published in the U.S. and Ireland; Felicia Mitchell, a poet and writer who teaches at Emory & Henry College; David Hampton, who teaches high school English in North Carolina; and Beto Cumming, a book designer and editor for Iris Press.

Five members of the Floyd Writer’s Circle who shared their original work included First, Katherine Chantal, Jayn Avery, Mara Robbins, and Colleen Redman.

After the readings, the group mulled around a table display of their books, signing, selling, and trading them with each other. Writing resources and stories also got swapped. The visiting writers had dinner at Oddfellas Cantina and attended the Friday Night Jamboree. ~ Colleen Redman

Post Notes: To learn more about the Southern Appalachian Writers Cooperative, go to sawc.us. The mission statement on their website states an intention to foster community between Appalachian writers and encourage the publication of their works.

Photos: 1. Beto Cumming reading poetry at the SAWC/Floyd Writers Circle meet-up. 2. Dana Wildsmith reading as (left) Felicia Mitchell and (right) Robert Cumming listen. 3. Jim Webb reads a poem condemning the practice of mountain top removal. Doug Thompson has posted some nice photos HERE.

Posted by Colleen at 10:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

The 7-9 time-slot stretched on to 10:30, with several new readers, a full house of attendees, and a line-up that resembled a Spoken Word variety show. After Greg opened the evening with a reflective essay about photographs and memories, Mara (pictured left) and I shared our very different Scrabble poems, created using words we played in a game on St. Patrick’s Day.

Chelsea (pictured reading below), one of my fellow winning teammates of the Literacy Volunteers Scrabble Tournament, kept the theme going with a just-written poem about Scrabble. Others, read from her first poetry collection, “Looking for a Landing,” were prompted by the subject of Greg’s reading.

Our third Scrabble Tournament teammate, Virginia, was in the audience with her husband, Don. Don took a shot at the mic, reading a poem from Chelsea’s second poetry collection, Java Poems. Seeing as how the café specializes in coffee, Java Poems is a favorite of Café Del Sol owner, Sally, the evening’s gracious master of ceremonies.

Rosemary premiered a performance piece about self-empowerment, presented with an edge. Mara read several poems by Virginia Tech creative writing professor, Bob Hicok, and one of her own, for the first anniversary honoring the victims of the April 16th Tech shootings. Her “Show and Tell” about wearing her late husband, Cory’s Calvin and Hobbs Grateful Dead T-shirt was memorable … Tonight I need a miracle, and not the kind that Calvin wants with one finger in the air asking for a ticket. I need to know you’re there.

A few of my six word memoirs got some good laughs … Gidget goes Woodstock; ends up country … College drop out, flunked middle class. I followed the memoirs with a group of short poems representing spring, taxes, and Earth Day. “Save the Planet” is a good slogan … or is it a slow gun we hold to our head … a sound bite to relieve us of our sins …. a glossy sticker on a gas guzzling bumper …

Photojournalist, Doug Thompson (above), was in the house. I told him that his large wide lens camera was a little intimating, but I knew he would capture some great shots, and he did (see HERE). Doug, who is a walking storyteller, shared some mic time with us, adlibbing a story with a mix of humor and tragedy. The attentive audience laughed, gasped, and choked up.

A young man (below) scribbling in a notebook during the readings shared the results of his notes, a new poem called, “In the Ear of the Beholder.” His mother followed him with a poem about closing your eyes in order to see. Sharing that her son is in cancer remission after forgoing a second round of chemo in favor of alternative treatments (a case that made national news when his parents were charged with medical neglect for not forcing mainstream treatment and then exonerated), brought a rousing round of applause.

Sam read a darkly, funny short story about a half-bald chicken getting revenge on its owner who had accidentally caused the balding (and scaring) when he tossed a pan of boiling water out a window.

Special Ed teacher Skip King was back with some 55 word poems. Lezlie performed her signature free association poetry, some of which involved – of all things – "gay McDonald burgers." It was a ludicrous notion meant to zero in on divisive judgments and one that had the crowd in an uproar. Fresh from New Orleans, a newcomer named Justin added to the variety, closing the evening’s event by rapping some rhythm and rhyme.

Post note: Notice the view from the window in photo 2. It's of the new timber framed public restroom, part of the downtown renovation and renewal.

Posted by Colleen at 5:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

There was lime green, kelly green, olive, and teal represented at the third Saturday Spoken Word Night, two days before St. Patrick’s Day. Even the sign-up sheet that our master of ceremonies, Alli, held as she announced the readers was green. Alli – standing in for Café Del Sol owner Sally, who we were told had a singing gig up the street – sometimes announced the readers in an accent that sounded Swedish, but I heard someone say it was from Wisconsin. Personally, I was hoping for an Irish brogue.

I didn’t use my brogue, like last year, but I did share a poem about someone who regularly wears green: Peter Pan. I hadn’t read “The Lost Adults of Neverland” since I shouted it from the poet’s soap box at Floyd Fest last summer. I also shared my poem about finding my first four leaf clover pressed between the pages of a library book sale book. The said book was used as a prop, the four leaf clover was waved in the air, and the word shamrock was mentioned.

Pat read from her book, Strange Tales of Floyd County, about a Floyd banshee, a female spirit in Irish mythology, usually seen as an omen of death and a messenger.

Cheryl (to the right) did a stand up routine based on the fact that she is NOT a “retired” school teacher, as she was described in the Floyd Press Spoken Word announcement (written by me). Although she was a public school teacher for many years, she’s currently unemployed and had just hung a “teacher looking for students" want-ad sign on the Winter Sun bulletin board, she told us. It wasn’t just part of her act. She actually gave me one the ads at end of the night so I could put it in the April’s Museletter (our local newsletter).

Alli C, a creative writing student at Hollins University, did two performance pieces, one of her own and one written by her favorite slam poet, Big Papa E. I was impressed with a poem Mara read, which I think was about one of her first loves. I’ve been trying to remember a line in it about how they climbed like ivy up the side of the university building where his father (a professor, I think) was working.

Rosemary took us on a fun ride, reading two versions of the same poem, and in between those she read one about the process of rewriting the first of the two. She also read a poem on how to grow Rosemary. Apparently, the plant and the woman (I gathered) should never be pot bound.

Mara's daughter, Kyla, won the imaginary prize for wearing the best Irish green. She joined her mom and Ali, closing the evening with a song from Juno in which the audience got involved, singing the refrain: remember that I love you … remember that I love you … remember that I love you. No leprechauns or limericks were spotted.

Post notes: Apologies to those who visited yesterday and couldn't comment. I couldn't post either. I guess my blog needed a good night's sleep to fix itself, which I hope it did. Also, my commentary on autism and vaccines came out in the Roanoke Times today. You can read it HERE.

Posted by Colleen at 7:51 AM | Permalink | Comments (9)

Extra chairs were carried in from the Winter Sun hall to accommodate the overflow crowd for February’s Spoken Word at the Café Del Sol. I told my poet friend Mara that interest may have been piqued by the photo announcement in the recent Floyd Press of our mutual friend, Janean, reading at last month’s event. “Not only was it was prominently placed and as big as a billboard, the caption under it said she was reading a poem about a zombie” I joked.

Of the list of fourteen readers on the sign-up sheet, six were new to the venue. Sally helped the first reader, Hayden Polseno-Hensley, adjust the mic, asking, “Are you a sitter or stander?” “I usually crouch,” the over-6-foot tall Hayden replied.

Hayden, who grew up in Floyd and recently returned after being away for twelve years, had to tell me who he was before I could recognize him. He stood as he told the audience that he’s recently started a writer’s workshop for short story writing. The short story he read about an airplane crashing into a yard was well received by listeners.

There were love poems, a poem about wild strawberries, winter, and Jesus.

A woman named Rose, who has been living in Floyd since May, spoke about how happy she was to be here before reading her poem, which she dedicated to her son. She said “You know you’re in the right place when you hear, ‘Oh, our house is perfect for someone with five children.’” Floyd is a healing place, she said.

It was, retired schoolteacher, Cheryl Spangler’s first time at the open mic, although, I’ve seen her act in plays and heard her do a stand-up comedy routine years ago at a different venue. She read some of her original comedy that involved several small children and bowls of spilled breakfast oatmeal.
At one point Sally, Café Del Sol owner and spoken word MC, asked for a vote to determine if people wanted the lights kept on or if they wanted a candlelight atmosphere.

“Do you want a super delegate vote or just a show of hands?” someone from the crowd asked. The candlelight party won out and that was the end of my ability to snap any good photos.

A couple of non-coffee drinking readers (myself included) inspired by last month’s challenge in which Sally asked us to write coffee haiku, read newly written poetry about tea. There were several interactive pieces, which began with a nursery rhyme called Poet for President that Hollins College student Mara, recently wrote for a class assignment. And after school teacher, Skip King, read a series of 55 word poems, Mara assigned Sally to write a 55 word poem about coffee for next month.

Some read from chapbooks, others from notebooks. A woman named Elise shared that she had just come from the Dollar Store, where she purchased the brand new notebook she was reading from. Her chanting voice was melodic and her poetry was more of a story telling performance than a reading.

The two hour evening of entertainment was like a variety show of talent. I can’t wait to come back in March and see what will happen next.

Post notes: March’s Café Del Sol Spoken Word is scheduled for the 15th from 7-9. Reader pictured above is not Hayden but Sam. The other one is of Elise Brion. Click HERE and scroll down for more posts on the monthly Spoken Word.

Posted by Colleen at 3:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

~ Third Saturday Spoken Word at the Café Del Sol 7-9

I wore my purple poet’s beret. Mara’s was black. Everyone else was hatless, even though the night was frigid, and a few flurries earlier in the day threatened to cancel our open mic.

I’m so gullible. I tend to believe everything the poets say. But I’m pretty sure Janean (pictured below) did not hear a zombie climbing up the stairs where she works, going AAAARRRGG AARRRGG, as one of her poems described. She read another one about loving the NFL and later insisted that part was true. But she is not Greek as another line in another poem stated.

“I’m never going to get to know you better through listening to your poems,” I joked to her at the end of the night.

I sat up close, on the cafe couch as the poet's spoken words wove spellbinding plots. Six readers and some new attentive faces made up the crowd. Chelsea, who teaches writing at Radford University, is working on a new collection of poetry about insomnia. I guessed her new work might be directly related to her Java Poems, another collection espousing her love coffee. Sally, the Café owner, told jokes in between readings. She challenged us to write some coffee haiku for a future reading (although she gave me the poetic license to write mine about tea).

When it was Mara’s turn, she read a poem about Jesus in which her favorite line was “Jesus was totally an Aires.” I liked this part: “Jesus drove with the windows down and knew what he wanted for breakfast.”

After that poem I spent the rest of the night jotting down things that my Jesus would do. I’m pretty sure my Jesus is a morning person who has a braid like Willie Nelson’s and wakes up in a good mood.

Post Notes: The first photo is of me and Mara. Photo number two is of Janean reading and number three is of fellow writer’s circle member and Scrabble playing friend Rosemary. Read more about the purple beret HERE. Click and scroll down HERE to read about more spoken word nights at Floyd's Cafe Del Sol.

Posted by Colleen at 4:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (15)

“Did you find one you like?” I asked Phil, father of our youngest spoken word reader, Mars.

“No, I’m just reading the funny papers,” he answered as he held up one with a fish on it that said ‘don’t give me that carp.’

Chelsea, a retired Radford University Professor who has recently authored a chapbook dedicated to her addictive love of coffee, picked out one with a coffee theme to take home. Jayn’s was black with a photo of one the three stooges and bright red letters that said, “Just say Moe.”

Earlier in the evening, Mara shared a short poem written in a form called a “minute,” and so I followed with one just as small that I labeled “a sip.” The last reader of the night, a Hollins College Graduate student who drove up from Roanoke, read a long poem that I thought was three different poems, or maybe a book. He dubbed his genre a “guzzle.” June said she was even more nervous than when she last read, which was her first time. Maybe it was because of the crowd. It was bigger than usual. At one point I counted thirty-six people.

Sally, the café owner, was too busy serving customers and then introducing the readers, to set up the sound system, so we projected our voices. I resurrected my poem “Dream for President Bush,” which was written five Novembers ago, before the U.S. invasion into Iraq. At that time it was read at several peace rallies and handed personally by me to actress Jessica Lange who spoke at one of the pre-war Peace Marches in Washington D.C. I went to.

I want President Bush to have a dream … like the one that Ebenezer Scrooge had … I want him to be haunted by the ghosts of Iraqi children … who cry out, “but mankind was your business” ...

I particularly like saying these lines:

I wish President Bush would have an affair … I wish he'd take off his black pointed cowboy boots … and look at the moon more often ...

And these:

I want his mouth washed out with soap … every time he says "weapons of mass destruction" … and for him to wear a Darth Vader helmet … if he ever says "the axis of evil" again ...

Nobody seemed to miss the mic.

At the start of the night I lugged a heavy garbage bag full of T-shirts up to the reader’s chair and spread a few out. “It will all be explained soon enough,” I told the curious onlookers who were watching me.

Elliot was a poet and member of the Floyd Writer’s Circle, the group that co-sponsors the monthly spoken word nights. It was the second anniversary of his death. Earlier that day, Kathleen, another writer’s circle member, and I had photographed Elliot’s T-shirt collection in a final farewell memorial for him. Mara put Elliot’s name on the sign up sheet for one of the ten minute slots because we planned to read a few of his poems. When Sally got to his name, she spoke faintly and questioningly, “Elliot?” while scanning the audience as if she was looking for a ghost.

Jayn, Mara, and I shared the spotlight for the tribute to Elliot. “He sat right in this very chair and read these poems himself not too very long ago,” I told the crowd. Mara talked about the book of Elliot’s poetry that she and Kathleen have been working on. At the end of the night, we invited everyone up to find a favorite T-shirt to bring home.

Post notes: You can read my account of the Washington D.C. Peace March HERE and the rest of the poem "Dream for President Bush HERE.

Posted by Colleen at 10:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (13)

My life is structured around seasons and holidays in the same way I imagine an elementary school teacher’s might be. Every month I look for seasonal graphics and clip art to adorn the Museletter, the local newsletter I put together with others. Page colors are chosen with the seasons in mind. Orange and pumpkins for October. Pink hearts for February.

The monthly Spoken Word nights at the Café Del Sol, which started two years ago by the writer’s circle I belong to, also mark the seasonal cycles of my life. Every month brings a few new attendees, and the seasons are reflected by the choice of readings that are shared. October is an especially rich time for poetry and prose. The bright colors of fall coupled with descending darkness, Halloween, and death made for some interesting themes that repeated throughout Saturday night’s readings.

Rosemary Wyman opened the set with a poem about our unusual warm autumn weather, followed by a prose tribute (which will appear in November’s Museletter) to Catherine Pauley’s garden. Catherine, a well known artist and long time high school teacher, is director of Floyd’s Old Church Gallery. Her garden is a wild spot cultivated with an artist’s eye in amongst the open and rolling hills by the Pauley well drilling business office. It was started by Catherine with the help of her husband after her battle with breast cancer over ten years ago. Since then, her husband has passed on, and recent additions to the garden have been in memory of him.

It was the view that called to me first, and then when I started to look around at my more immediate surroundings I noticed the old hand pump, the large stone table, the set patio stones, the low stone wall and the informal stone steps that snake away through the flowers and trees and off down the wooded hill, Rosemary read. She described the garden, which has a sitting bench and a swing chair, as a place of healing. She spoke of how the garden gave her support when she wasn’t feeling well, and of introducing it to a woman with failing health who found solace during her illness and before her death. Oddly, I had visited Catherine’s garden just an hour before coming to the café for the first time in several years.

I followed Rosemary at the mic with a reading of “Country Boy,” the WVTF radio essay aired this past summer about my Asheville potter son, a good old boy with a twist and one of the kids of Floyd’s alternative community who paved the way for a meeting of cultures. After that, I read an older poem called “Sunflowers” which I chose because it’s fun to read this time of year. I can’t stand to see them droop … Faces hung like lamps bent over …Their lights are out … and … They hang like skulls in suicide nooses … in garden graveyards for Halloween … Their thorny crowns have fallen down … Their bones loom long …

Greg Locke, sign painter by trade, took questions after his reading. His mostly surreal art of the past twenty years was being shown on the cafe walls. People wanted to know which pieces were earlier ones and which were new.

Earlier that day, when I talked to Katherine Chantal, she said she had nothing new to read. I encouraged her to read something old. She did, but she also read a new piece that she ended up writing after all, after taking a walk and being inspired by the fall colors.

Retired Radford University Professor, Chelsea Adams, returned to the stage to share a few original selections. I especially enjoyed her poem in answer to Dylan Thomas’s Do Not Go Gently into that Good Night, in which he implores us to rage against the dying of light.

“But I want to go gently,” she began, and went on to describe how she wants her eyes to be closed and to be wearing a favorite red robe when death visits her.

Dr. Sue Osborne was there with her son Mars and his friend Emerson. Each read a piece of their own before joining together to entertain us with some three part harmony. I think the song they sang was about a skeleton, judging by the refrain that went something like ‘it must be chilly it must be without skin,’ and by the fact that Sue said they chose it because of Halloween.

Café owner, Sally Walker, introduced each reader and offered tidbits about what was going on in Floyd as she did. June, blogger from Spatter, made it back from her trip to Assateague Island in time to attend, but she didn’t read anything this time. Regular reader and Writer's Circle member, Jayn Avery, was too tired from selling pottery at the Roanoke Market that day to do a reading. After the last performer had read, a group of us stayed on to mingle and to meet Jayn’s sister who was in town. With the foliage starting to peak here in the mountains, it’s a good time to visit Floyd. And there’s a lot going on in town these days. The third Saturday Spoken Word Open Mic is just one of Floyd’s unique offerings.

Post notes: To read more about The Café Del Sol’s Spoken Word nights, go HERE and scroll down. Photos above are of Sally, Rosemary, Greg, Katherine, Emerson, Mars, and Sue.

Posted by Colleen at 8:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

In the end I’m like Rosa Parks … I don’t want to get up and go where I’m told … I work just as hard as any other poet … and I write from where I sit … Colleen

Mara and I performed our dueling punctuation poems as promised at this month’s Spoken Word open mic. The best part was that both our poems were work-shopped at our writer’s circle earlier in the week as poems, not as a poem with punctuation and one without. In the end, the irony was that the audience members listening couldn’t see the punctuation, or lack of it, and so the point was mute.

Refreshing newcomer to the open mic stage, June, read a poem about a dying squirrel. … even in this moment of anguish I admired his full tail and beautiful coat. It seemed the right thing to do ... She’s also a new Floyd blogger and you can read her poem in its entirety on her blog HERE.

Greg brought a prop. No, I don’t mean the tattoos up and down his arms. I mean a painting he did. His poem was directed to all the art buyers who didn’t buy it at an art show he placed it in once.

Chelsea Adams loves coffee! Retired, for the time being, from teaching writing at Radford University, Chelsea has a new chapbook, called Java Poems. The tie in to the main feature of Café Del Sol was not lost on Sally, who introduced each reader. “You can come read your poems here anytime,” Sally said into the mic after Chelsea faced her addiction with odes to her dark potent master.

When she read one called “Seductress” written in the voice of coffee it made me think about vampires, the gory lure. .. You are afraid of your desire for me, the hold I have on you, my sultry depths, wary of the jittery feeling I sometimes create in you, leery of a night without sleep …

By the end of her java reading she was proclaiming “Hallelujah!” in a poem titled “Salvation.” Research proclaims drinking six cups a day prevents diabetes, cancer, a heart condition …

Janean wears red shoes and writes funny, sexy poems. The pieces she read ranged from poems about drag queens to those about her love of the opera. “I don’t know if I should believe a word you say,” I joked at the end of the night.

“It’s all true,” she insisted.

There were only six readers, but each brought a rich variety of