A Poetry Slam in the Mountains
Last Saturday evening I was sitting at The Village Grind, a wine bar and restaurant located in Wrightwood, California, almost 6,000 feet above sea level in the San Gabriel Mountains, about eighty miles northeast of Los Angles. Why? I seldom drink wine, and I wasn’t there to order their chili or other house specialty.
The short answer is that, on impulse, I’d decided to enter a poetry slam held as part of the Fourth Annual Wrightwood Literary Festival. I was at The Village Grind waiting for my turn.
A more comprehensive answer is that Tim Green, editor of Rattle, the literary magazine I founded, moved with his family to Wrightwood to escape the traffic and hassle of Los Angeles. Even though I appreciate that my own commute is less than ten minutes, there are days when I’m jealous of Tim.
Wrightwood is a tight-knit, community of about four thousand residents in a beautiful mountain setting. You don’t have to drive any scary roads to get there. Four years ago Tim, with help from his friends and neighbors, founded the Wrightwood Literary Festival in this pleasant but off-the-beaten-path community.
Saturday was the third time I’ve participated and I thoroughly enjoyed each previous festival. A month ago I decided that this time I would enter the poetry slam. The problem was that when I arrived in Wrightwood I hadn’t written any poems. But Saturday morning I was struck by inspiration and wrote three poems I thought were pretty good. I would need three if I advanced to the semifinal and final rounds. My first round poem was I Don’t Date Poets, or How I Met My Wife. I thought it was pretty funny.
I was the sixth competitor out of eighteen. Tim recruited three audience members as judges – no particular credentials or experience required. He told me that the scores always tend to go up for the later competitors. So my placement was not ideal.
Neither was my score – 21 out of a possible 30. I had hoped for 25 or more.
Did I make the semifinals? No. I wasn’t even close. So I appeased my disappointment with a baked potato and sour cream, and discovered the upside was that I could just sit back and enjoy the rest of the show. I freely admit that the two poets who tied for first place were both outstanding.
The man sitting next to me was a local. “I was at the poetry slam last year, and loved it,” he said. “When I heard that it was tonight I had to come. It’s really fun.”
My biggest motivation for founding Rattle was to bring enjoyable poetry to everyone, so I was delighted to hear this enthusiastic endorsement.
Even if you don’t think you like (or understand) poetry I encourage you to take a look at the Rattle.com website. Better yet, you should sign up for the free daily poem – many are excellent. Even better, come join us in Wrightwood next year. I’ll be there.
Will I enter the poetry slam contest again? That depends on whether inspiration strikes – but it will have to be sooner than Saturday morning. As I said, the competition is high quality, and I will have to be better prepared.
Alan