I had the opportunity to support one of my writer friends this evening. And for that, I was grateful.
When he joined our weekly writing critique group a number of months back, he introduced himself as a poet and said that was all he could write. When the facilitator to our group mentioned that we were not qualified to critique poetry—an entirely different stylization of critique—he dug his heels in and decided to try his hand at writing short stories for young children. And…not only is he a published poet worldwide, but he’s now proven himself to be an accomplished writer of children’s short stories as well. But I digress.
Tonight, I, along with other members of our critique group, friends, family and passer-bys were treated to the inaugural poetry reading/open mic night at the same bookstore where our critique group meets. Initially, my friend had been concerned that he’d be reading to an audience of empty chairs, but he was proven wrong when not a single chair remained unoccupied, including all the ones in the lounge and café.
He did a brilliant job of reading a wide selection of his poems, and when he turned over the mic, others, including a fourth-grade young lady, read poems they’d written. Now, this may not seem news worthy, but it is. Poetry has always gotten the short end of the stick when it comes to writing, yet what tonight proved is that there is a desire for poets to not only share their work but also for them to listen to and support others whose passion mirrors their own.
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