My First Public Reading

I decided to check out Open Mic night at Barnes and Noble this past Friday. I didn't expect to read any of my poetry. I thought I'd just listen, get a feel for the regular attenders, and maybe write some of my own poetry over a cup of tea. When I got there, I couldn't actually find where in the B&N the poetry group was meeting. I assumed it would be near the coffee shop, but no one seemed to be there. Finally I found them in a corner near the greeting cards.

I was surprised to see how intimate the group was. There were two rows of seats, and most of them were full. They all seemed to know each other already, and my presence was immediately noticed. I tried to just take a seat and blend in, but after a few of the regulars had finished their readings, the man in charge, Dr. Hollis Pruitt, stared at me, stomped his foot, and said "Get up here!"

My heart was pounding, but I took the floor and tried to look brave. I really only had one poem on me, because I recently started a new journal. The poem was a love poem that I had written for Rob the night before. I introduced myself and read the short, sweet poem. Everyone said, "Aw!" and I sat back down. Dr. Pruitt asked if that was my first public reading, and I said yes. Then everyone applauded because of that. Isn't that kind of them?

They really were lovely people. Their poems were sincere and evocative, sometimes making us all burst into laughter and sometimes bringing us to tears. Some of the people who stood up to read were as nervous as I was, and others were full of a confidence that inspired me to be more like them. I'm so glad I met them all. I'm so glad I heard their poems. I'm so glad they were kind to me, and made me share my own little poem.

All in all, I highly recommend Open Mic nights, and I highly recommend the poetry of Hollis Pruitt. Here's a taste:

Pilot

I've written hundreds of poems. Literally hundreds. Of course, when they are written over more than a decade in between diary entries in a collection of more than twenty journals, it's hard to see that there are hundreds of them. When I started compiling them all in one place, it became unequivocally obvious that I am a poet.

This isn't the easiest thing to admit, is it? You might as well tell your friends and family that you want to be a philosopher or a stand up comedian. You might as well say, "Yes, I love being poor! And not just poor, but also sensitive and emotional!" It's exactly what your friends and family want to hear, right? My Grandfather said to me, "Poetry is not a career. It is a hobby." In my family, you either become an engineer or you marry one. In my family, people don't understand poetry, and they certainly don't understand the undying need to write it.

Well admitting that you have a problem is the first step, right? So I admit it. I am a poet. Now I have to be true to myself and my passion, and try to get published. What good is poetry that never gets read?
The purpose of this blog is threefold:

1.To record my efforts at becoming published. If I am successful, maybe other people can learn from my struggle.

2. To get advice from other poets.

3. To promote poetry. I'll be posting a poem at the end of every blog entry. If you would like your poem to be featured in a future entry, please email me at RLBabyDoll@gmail.com.

Todays poem is about poetry. It seems an appropriate place to start.

A Poetry Lesson

by Rachel McGuire

No one finds the time, babe.

The time finds you.

It doesn’t have to rhyme,

but it is allowed to.

Content is the last concern

so long as it is true.

So take the pencil to the paper.

We’re waiting on you.

Know that you can be eloquent,

but you’ll still be misunderstood.

Someone will always critique you

about what you do and what you should,

but when it comes to your experiences,

you’re the only one that could.

So write it how you feel it,

and don’t worry if it’s good.