Well here it is. Pretty much the finished article barring stuff I spot introduced due to my bad proof-reading. All of the poems were inspired by the House on the Rock. SOme are more straightforwardly descriptive than others.

Note I can't get "The Mikado and the Unseen Orchestra" to display how I wanted (in two columns) so I've had to compromise. It should be two spoken poems read simultaneously - one in normal type, one in itallics.


Enjoy.
And feel free to comment.
---------------------------------------


The House on The Rock

Come up to the House on the Rock.
March by to the tick and the tock of the clock.
Come to marvel at mysteries, or simply to mock,
But come, nonetheless, to the House on the Rock.

Enclosed Infinity

There is no end to the line,
To the infinite, imprisoned, unchanging design
That stretches beyond and before and around,
Between Heaven and Hell, between sky and ground.
There is a world I can see,
But the glass holds it separate from me.
As I press my face hard to the cold
And watch this reality as the stories unfold,
The vertigo viewpoint succeeds
In feeding and watering the paranoid seeds,
And I think, far away, I hear music that plays
Metric and measured, a stately and slow polonaise.

Step into the House on the Rock,
Where time does not rule, there's no tick, there's no tock
Just the shifting and subtle illusions of shock
When you venture inside, at the House on the Rock.


What kind of person would live in a house like this?

Was it built? Did it grow? Did it just appear so
Overnight,
One night?
Did it spring from the Earth, did the Angels give birth
To this sight,
This delight?
There's a taste of the East, and a hint of the Beast
In the gloom
Of the room.
There are shelves filled with books in the crannies and nooks
But for whom,
Do they loom?
There are eggs made of stone, there are figures of bone
In array
On display.
There's the sound of a band but there's no mortal hand
Here to play,
For today.
There's a Tiffany lamp but it carries a stamp
There to show,
That it's faux.
It's a box of delights, It's a trick of the light
But the glow's
Getting low

What kind of person would live in a house like this?
Who'd dance with bogeymen down on the sharp precipice?
Who'd haul rocks to the top of the mountain and do it by hand
Just to see if the mountain would turn out the way that he'd planned?

Was it built? Did it grow? Did it just appear so
Overnight,
One night?
Did it spring from the Earth or did Nature give birth
To this sight,
This delight?
A man stands in the rocks. He's surrounded by flocks
Of strange birds
It's absurd.
All this bric-a-brac shines in a thousand designs
Till we're spurred
To find words
For the things that we've seen here and there and between
But there's more
To explore.
It's time to be going and we march on unknowing
To the door
The new door.

Come back to the House on the Rock,
To jewels and the gems and the schlock
To the weird and the wonderful stock.
Come back to the House on the Rock.

A collection of collections: Part 1: Hemispheres

In his house he had a case full of tiny Universes,
Of frozen explosions, of luminescent flowers,
Of slices of time and spirals of space,
All captured in hemispheres of glass.
He showed them as a child shows a mayfly,
Captured in cupped hands, precious and fragile,
Eternity trapped in a moment of grace,
Undying, unchanging, waiting for the world to pass.

A Collection of Collections: Part 2: The Golden Age of Steam

In his house he had a room where motion was caught
Behind a window in the wall, upon a shelf,
Where it became forever the Golden Age of Steam,
And the liveried engines stood in a trackless waste.
He showed them as a young man shows his car
Exuberant and boastful; this is mine, this is me,
See how I have taken hold of the dream.
See how I have tamed and conquered reckless haste.

A Collection of Collections: Part 3: Looking After The Pennies

In his house he had a wall where everything was safe,
Where the tokens of pecuniary hope were held
Inside minute houses and animals and heads,
Inside the tin-plate mechanisms of desire.
He showed them as an old man shows his treasures
Reluctantly, protecting them with the tightest irony.
These toys that should be holding are held instead;
Symbols of acquisition turned to objects to acquire.

Come along now through the House on the Rock,
Praise it in whispers, raise voices to knock
Stare at the strangeness that stands chockablock.
Come along now through the House on the Rock.

The Devil's Carousel

I will pass by the mouth of Hell
I will not ride this carousel
I will not heed the tolling bell
I will pass by the mouth of Hell

Above the circling angels see
The carnival that's tempting me
But I remain apart and free
While still the circling angels see.

The fabulous, fantastic wheel
Turns and turns to still reveal
Monsters strange, deformed, surreal
Revolving here upon this wheel.

I have no need of surpliced priest
For though I watch each prancing beast
That Hell's menagerie released
I do not need a surplus priest.

The fabulous, fantastic wheel
Turns and turns to still reveal
Monsters strange, deformed, surreal
Revolving here upon this wheel.

I will pass by the mouth of Hell
I will not ride this carousel
I will not heed the tolling bell
I will pass by the mouth of Hell

Keep going on through the House on the Rock.
Stroll slowly along to the end of the block.
Pause to consider, rest to take stock,
Then keep going on through the House on the Rock.

Streetwise

It's a small town in a bottle
In an everlasting twilight
Never quite escaping daytime,
Never stepping into night.
All the people have deserted
Their positions and their posts,
And the sidewalks and the storefronts
Have been left to twilight ghosts.
The horologist stepped out
Of his allotted time and place.
The clocks he left behind him
Are fully wound and keeping pace.
The apothecary's gone
From his powders and his potions,
From his pills and panaceas,
From his liniments and lotions.
The barber's chair stands empty,
The porcelain is clean,
No blood stains mar the razor;
The shop remains pristine.
The fire truck's gleaming pumps
Are polished up like gold.
The firehouse dog is sleeping.
The fire-bell's never tolled.
In the sheriff's office
Stands the Head of Joaquim,
Pickled in a jar,
Looking shrivelled, old and grim.
The picket fence surrounds
The house at Main Street's end
And the visitor with half-closed eyes
Can silently pretend
That the past is trapped in amber
And this is somehow real
Not a fantasy of history
Built solely to conceal.


Small Leviathan

Carved on the tooth of a whale,
A whale,
A tiny perfect evocation
Of the leviathan.
Minute whaling ships
Surround it
And smaller still
Deck-bound harpoonists,
Have their arms back,
Trapped in the moment
Before the motion,
Before the battle
With the beast
Whose tooth
Begins the tale anew.


The Mikado and the Unseen Orchestra: a poem for two voices

It begins,
It begins,
The faint tinkling
The slow drawn bow
Of prayer bells.
On violin strings.
Mannequin eyes
Mechanical
Move in motionless
Movements by unseen
Faces.
Hands.
Gongs sound,
Cello
Strings vibrate,
And viola,
The wu-man and the pipa
Timpani and piano
Join the mix.
Join the mix.
A crescendo builds,
A crescendo builds,
A rising cascade of sound
An emergent symphony
And fury.
Of melody.
The Mikado
And the unseen orchestra.

Come down deep in the House on the Rock,
Where the darkness holds sway, devils mocked
And it seems that your escape is now blocked.
Come down deep in the House on the Rock.

Inferno : Part 1

These monstrous engines drive the world;
The boilers, shafts, propellers, cogs;
The pistons, blocks, the pits of flame.
Around these loathsome shapes are curled
The paths where sinners creep like dogs –
Stripped of dignity, of pride, of name.
This inferno is the engine room,
the very base of base desire,
The foundry where all sin is made
And loosed to call all men to doom
And eternity within this fire.
Here are our weaknesses displayed.

Voices in the Void

And yet…
Even Hell must have light and shade.
Without virtue there can be no sin
And so the engines sometimes pause and fade
And still for a moment their clam'rous din.
So as the engines fall silent, one by one,
Then the void is filled with voices wailing
And when the tumult is, for an instant, gone
It might seem that even Hell is failing.

Inferno: Part 2

But then…
The hum begins again, the shafts resume their turning
And the sound of mighty organs accompanies the burning.
There is thunder in the darkness, an inferno in the hole.
There is everlasting pain in every corner of the soul.

Move up through the House on the Rock.
Follow the sound of the bleat of the flock.
Listen again for time's ticking clock.
Move up through the House on the Rock.

The Dolls' Carousel

"Oh Mother! Aren't they a dream?"
I hear a child whisper.
I do not agree.
This carousel of dolls makes me scream
At the frozen fleshless faces,
The eyes that do not see,
Following without moving,
Fixed on me.
I feel my flesh creep and die.

"Oh look at that tiny one! Divine!
Such gorgeous clothes,
So petite, so sweet."
It isn't sweet, I can't define
The way they make me feel,
Their rank and file, perfect, neat
An undead, plastic army
Of incomplete
Soulless homunculi.


Step out of the House on the Rock
And back to the world of the clock
Where time flows once, tick and tock.
Step out of the House on the Rock.

Dragons in Daylight

I have escaped into morning
But even now in daylight
I still see the dragons
That haunted my darkness.

Dream of the House on the Rock,
Of all that was seen, and all that was not
Of all you recalled and all you forgot
Dream evermore of the House on the Rock.

Coda: Things I Never Saw

I have walked inside a stranger's mind
And seen the flotsam left behind
As the tides of sanity receded from the shore.
I have felt the things a stranger felt,
Played the hand that he was dealt.
Was this a simple game of chance?
Was it really nothing more?

I never saw the circus clowns.
I saw no sceptres, saw no crowns.
I never saw the planes and cars,
The butterflies and killing jars.
I heard no music boxes play.
They must await another day,
For if I could look for ever more.
There would be things I never saw.

This message has been edited. Last edited by: BobHale,

Kudos and bravo, Bob! what a tour de force.I am especially impressed with your control and manipulation of speed and rhythm (by which I mean to include the use of rhyme). You pick up a wonderful speed and whirling at the carousel. And you treat us to a suite of variations through the changes from Inferno 1 through Voices in the Void to Inferno 2: I feel like I'm part of one of those Animusic videos. Throughout, the italicized quatrain picks it up and keeps it moving-- this verse has a way of reminding you, when things begin to get dark, that it's all entertainment. The Mikado and the Unseen Orchestra is masterful, and it is timed perfectly: by that point, I have music in my head, and you spell it out for us.

A tiny suggestion: you might want to edit down the Small Leviathan and the Doll Carousel, make them shorter and tighter. Both seem a bit too long for what they are describing, and both come at a point where something short and pithy would punch it up a bit. Just MHO.

This piece stands beautifully on its own, but promise me if you ever meet a good composer you will turn this into a rock opera!!!

Thank you for your kind remarks. One thing I hope comes through is just how much I looved the place.

There is a change I considered to Small Leviathon which was to leave out three lines, thus:

quote:

Carved on the tooth of a whale,
A whale,
A tiny perfect evocation
Of the leviathan.
Deck-bound harpoonists,
Have their arms back,
Trapped in the moment
Before the motion,
Before the battle
With the beast
Whose tooth
Begins the tale anew.

-----

It would take a little more thought to reduce Dolls' Carousel but I'll take a look at it with fresh eyes.

Bob, those are amazing. Your love of the place does come through. My favorite is Enclosed Infinity...wonderful! I especially liked this line: "The vertigo viewpoint succeeds."

Nicely done!

I have a performance to do at Wolverhampton Writers in a couple of weeks. Normally I read prose selections from my travel writing but I'm thinking of rehearsing this as a performance piece and filling my fifteen minutes with it.

I've just had a practice run through and it took thirteen minutes which gives me just time for a brief explantory introduction and a note at the end that if anyone wonders what the hell it was all about I can show them some pictures.

What do you think.
Should I go for it?

This message has been edited. Last edited by: BobHale,

Go for it, Bob. This could be your big chance to launch a new career. ..... LOL

Go for it !!

quote:

Originally posted by jerry thomas:
Go for it, Bob. This could be your big chance to launch a new career. ..... LOL

Go for it !!

A career in poetry? I have a feeling it doesn't pay very well.

But what did you think of it all. You can be honest. I won't take offence. I'm inclined to pay attention to someone who writes as well as you do.

Come to that I'd appreciate comments from anyone.
If you really think it stinks tell me, and tell me why - use a PM if you like. I'd genuinely like any kind of constructive remarks - pro- or anti-.

It's the not knowing that drives me crazy.

They're very good, Bob.

Sadly that means you stand no chance of getting published in the OBEV - nothing of this quality ever appears in that volume.

quote:

Originally posted by Richard English:
They're very good, Bob.

.

What, even the ones that don't rhyme?

Just joshing, old chap. Thanks for the appreciation.

It reminded me of things Danny Elfman has performed.

OBEV

Sigh. One wonders if you've ever picked up the 1990's Christopher Rick's version of this book. You have to wait until page 593 (of 742) before you even get to the work of a poet born in the twentieth century (Basil Bunting). I don't think even you could damn Quiller-Couch or his (early 1900s) choices, though he had included some poems that do not rhyme and have strange meters, but then anything's possible. (Or, perhaps you were thinking of Helen Gardner's 1970s version.)

I'm not sure that ths is the proper place to put this "critique," so I will put it here and hope no one objects.

* * ** *** ***** ******** ***** *** ** * *


Bob, although I have not yet all of your travelogs and other writings, I hope you agree that "The House On The Rock" should be ranked as your masterpiece.

Your superior artistry is manifested in alliteration and surprising twists of words.

More POWER to you.

~~~~~ jerry

And I have to add that they mean a whole lot more when you've been to the House on the Rock, and love it they way I do. Bob, they are excellent, in my opinion. I just don't have the poetic expertise to do a lot of critique on them, so I don't really have any suggestions. In fact, I disagree with Bethree about "The Doll's Carousel" and " Small Leviathan;" I adore them the way they are...especially "The Doll's Carousel." As I read it, I remember it. So wonderful.

The only criticism I might have would be that they mean a whole lot more when you've been there. I am not sure that I'd appreciate them as much as I do if I didn't know House on the Rock.

[P.S. You should copyright them. I am afraid someone could Google them and then use them as advertising for the House on the Rock.]

quote:

Originally posted by Kalleh:
And I have to add that they mean a whole lot more when you've been to the House on the Rock, and love it they way I do.

Now that was a real concern when I was writing it, and remains a real concern now I'm thinking of performing it. Is it only comprehensible to people who have been there? Obviously it's more meaningful if you have, but does it lose too much if you haven't.

quote:

Originally posted by Myth Jellies:
It reminded me of things Danny Elfman has performed.

Considering that Nightmare Before Christmas is one of my favourite movies that's the best compliment so far.
Thanks!

quote:

Originally posted by jerry thomas:

Bob, although I have not yet all of your travelogs and other writings, I hope you agree that "The House On The Rock" should be ranked as your masterpiece.


~~~~~ jerry

I've heard, but never been sure of the truth of, that a masterpiece was the piece of work turned out by an apprentice to prove that he was now good enough to be considered a master.
Is this true or is it some faux etymology?

quote:

One wonders if you've ever picked up the 1990's Christopher Rick's version of this book.

Not only have I picked it up, but I have read it and own a copy.

Gentlemen. I'd prefer to keep discussions of the merits of the OBEV separate from this thread where I really just want people to tell me how good I am.

I'll settle for how bad if that's the way anyone feels.

Thank you in advance for your compliance with this small request.

Bob.

I'd prefer to keep discussions of the merits of the OBEV separate from this thread

Good enough, Bob. Fear not. I'll stop tilting at the windmills.

[Here] I really just want people to tell me how good I am.

Well, let me tell you then that you're not only good but great! I especially like how you managed to capture a specific time and place (your visit to the THotR) and overlain it with just a touch of childlike awe contrasted with a natural, adult skepticism. There's also a feeling of the fin de siècle, (the final gasp of a decadent age, recreating a certain milieu and its prevailing attendant attitude), that comes through powerfully and artfully. I haven't been to THotR, but I have a decent idea of what it must have been like for you to have been there and to have experienced it, because you have communicated that feeling so well. In fact, your poems, apart and together, have done what all great poetry must do: describe how it was that the poet felt at a certain time and place about something which he thought well worth communicating, and having done that well and memorably. There was some, little thing that reminded me of the dust and smell of oil on a hot summer's afternoon in some tiny museum in some small town off the beaten path. And there's something horrific, just out of view, around the corner, something you get in some of Ray Bradbury's writing. Something eldritch and Gothic. You want to flee, but you want to slow down and watch in fascination. (I see that Neil Gaiman located the action of one of his novels in THotR.)

Bravo, I say.

As I said in my PM, thanks very much for the kind words. It seems that I have managed to evoke exactly the mood and feeling, and the sense of time and place, that I was aiming for. No poet can ever hope for more than that.

The feeling of this being the collection of someone who is childlike in his ecclectic enthusiasms but also of something darker and more sinister just around the corner is definitely one I was trying to convey.

I worked hard on this group of poems and I'm really pleased that I seem to have succeeded in my intentions.

BTW I first encountered THotR in that Gaiman novel, American Gods, which I personally rate as a damn fine novel even if I have met some people who felt otherwise.
That's why I was so pleased to find out it's a favourite of shu's and that he was willing to take time to drive me up to it and show me round.

I seriously think you should consider publishing it (and maybe some photos though you'd have to get releases) as a fine-books tradition slim volume of poetry. I've always felt we'd lost something when that custom went out of practice. Something in leather. (A sort of rite of passage for the young poet.) It'd be an expensive conceit, but you could do most of the layout and design on computer (unless you really wanted to set type by hand which is a lot of fun) and do a limited run with some few exemplars on velum or better paper and hard bound.

Not a bad idea. I have my own photographs though I expect I moght need permission from the attraction.

I also have a friend who has self published several small volumes who could probably give me some ideas on how to get started. Come to that my brother self published a volume about spiders so he might know too.

I'll give that some thought.

There's also POD (i.e., print on demand) these days.

I have written several books and most of them I have formatted myself, using Word.

Any printer can print from Word files and most are happy to print small quantities since there are no set-up charges involved.

When I need fewer than fifty copies of a publication I often print it myself (I have a laser printer) and then bind it using a thermal binder. I have several customers who have their publications produced that way.

I would be happy to give you some hints.

quote:

That's why I was so pleased to find out it's a favourite of shu's and that he was willing to take time to drive me up to it and show me round.

It isn't only a favorite of Shu's. I absolutely adore the place.

Zmj, if you and your bride ever get to Chicago, and we'd love to take you to the House on the Rock. I very much think you'd both like it.

Bob, from the responses here, I absolutely think that people wouldn't have to have been to the House on the Rock in order to enjoy your poems. I agree with Zmj that you should publish them...and in leather is a fine idea. There is nothing finer that a great book in leather!

Great imagery, Bob. You've captured something special in every poem and each one makes the place come alive. The small leviathan is so crystal clear in my mind that I feel like I have seen it, though I've never been there.

quote:

Originally posted by BobHale:

quote:

Originally posted by Kalleh:
And I have to add that they mean a whole lot more when you've been to the House on the Rock, and love it they way I do.

Now that was a real concern when I was writing it, and remains a real concern now I'm thinking of performing it. Is it only comprehensible to people who have been there? Obviously it's more meaningful if you have, but does it lose too much if you haven't.

I am a good test case for you, as I had never even heard of The House on the Rock. After reading the poem I of course immediately had to look it up. I admit I couldn't imagine such a place could measure up to your lines. I read the website, and examined photos posted there as well as by tourists whose snaps come up when you Google "images". Then I went back and read your suite again and again. What a great place to take my teen boys!!

Actually I though your revision (above posted 8/23) eliminated some salient details you must keep in there, like the sailing ships. Here's the sort of thing I meant:

Small Leviathan

Carved on the tooth of a whale,
A whale:
Minute whaling ships surround
The tiny perfect evocation
Of the leviathan.
Deck-bound harpoonists retract
Bantam arms, trapped
In the moment
Before the motion
Before the battle
With the beast
Whose tooth
Begins the tale anew.


Something like the above eliminates a few connectors & pronouns so as to focus more closely on the great images in the short stanza.

I'm sorry I've beem remiss in reading/responding on this thread.

Bob - your writing is fantastic. I love the images you evoke and the whimsy you share. I like how you use the words to create feelings as well as images, too - just like the museum did for you.

Thanks so much for sharing this all with us!

Stella, nice to see you again!

Yes, Bethree, your teens would love House on the Rock. If you get the chance, be sure to go; there really is no place like it. That's why Bob's poems are so good because they evoke that sense of mysticism.

Well I've committed myself to doing the performance now by telling the organiser that I'm going to.

I'm intending to have a dry run tonight with my writers' group. Let's hope it goes well. I'd hate for my confidence in the work to take a knock at this stage.

Bob, Please remind yourself that you are unique. No one else on earth is better qualified to deliver an oral interpretation of "The House On The Rock."

You have experienced Being There; you have experienced the process of composition, using your own memories of feelings, sensations, emotions ... as raw material. No one on earth is better qualified than you to do this.

You have earned the right to write creatively about the House and you have exercised that right. Your desire to share adds to your enthusiasm; it adds power to your delivery.

With these thoughts in mind failure is impossible.

Break a leg !!

quote:

I'm intending to have a dry run tonight with my writers' group. Let's hope it goes well.

I'm sure it went fine, Bob, but do let us know how well it was received!

quote:

Originally posted by arnie:

quote:

I'm intending to have a dry run tonight with my writers' group. Let's hope it goes well.

I'm sure it went fine, Bob, but do let us know how well it was received!

I had to race through it a bit and didn't do it full justice but the following points were made.

1. People generally liked it. Several commented on the imagery used. Most liked the shifting rhyme schemes/metre but one felt that it would be better to stick with couplets througout. We agreed to disagree.

2. Some of the poems - especially the three "collections" pieces confused people who felt that I needed to explain what they were about or no one would understand them.

3. The bits that were most liked were almost without exception the bits I consider to be the weaker pieces while the pieces I like best were less well received.

4. Most people felt I'd need either a lengthy introductory preamble (which I won't have time for) or individual preambles to each poem (which I think breaks up the rhythm too much) or pictures circulated so that people have more of a clue.

So I'm considering exactly how to approach the proper reading.

I suppose that response had a lot to do with them not only not having been to the House on the Rock, but not even having heard of it. The pictures would probably help. Wisconsinites would love them, I am sure of that!

It is strange that your favorite parts they didn't like and vice versa. I am not sure what that was about.

As for the shifting rhyme schemes/meter...I thought that made them work even better. The House on the Rock is hardly predictable.

What sorts of people were in the audience?

Free-style internet surfing brought this up. ... for which I take no responsibility .... it just looks like a different point of view and might (or might not) be worth readiing.

Thought you might like to know how it went.

It went very well indeed. Much better, in fact, than any of my previous prose readings which were well enough received themselves. I lost count of people coming up to tell me how good it was. I had several requests to do more poetry in future, one request for a written copy by another teacher who wanted to use it in class and a long conversation with the organiser about my use of rhyme and metre and the effectiveness of the performance.

I'd tweaked it a bit - left out the Mikado poem as it needs two well rehearsed performers, replaced the linking quatrains with some short prose introductions written as linking pieces, switched the running order around - but it was substantially the same.

In short it was great.

Feeling pretty damned please with myself right now.

Well good for you, Bob! They were excellent, that's for sure.

I wonder if I am just out of the poetry reading loop, or if we don't do poetry readings as often here in the U.S. I assume it's the former, but I've never heard much about poetry readings. I suppose if I looked harder, I would. Are they easy to find in England?

I'm so glad you reported back to us, Bob. I'm very happy you did so well, and I'm not at all surprised.

Bob, I've come very late to your poetry reading thread, but I think your House on the Rock collection is wonderful. I'm glad to hear that the reading went so well, too, though sorry to read that you had to alter the Mikado section, which I would love to hear live in two voices. It is my favorite, and I think a stroke of genius. I have never been to THotR either, and I feel as if I have been there.

Possibly you could make the thing into a video performance and agree to let THonR sell copies in their gift shop with you receiving a commission and them receiving a donation...Or just publish it on YouTube. No money there, but that's poetry for you.

Kalleh, I think among writers' groups poetry readings are common. Every spring, our English Department sponsors a Poemplooza! in honor of National Poetry Month (April), during which students and faculty read their own works. And then there is always the Dead Poets Slam, in which various faculty and staff members dress as their favorite poets and read, dramatically, from their works.

I have two friends who are poets and have been to a reading by one of them in the past year. Poets are paid miserably: $5, $10, maybe $50 for a poem published in a magazine or just in copies of the book for a poem published in an anthology. So those who write poetry really love to do it (as we see here), because there is generally no financial reward. Poetry slams are popular in coffee houses world.

Wordmatic

quote:

Originally posted by wordmatic:
Poets are paid miserably:

Poets are paid?

Ah what a lovely world that would be.

To answer your question Kalleh I'd say that if you asked the average man in the street he'd say that poetry readings don't exist because it's a minority pursuit at best. On the other hand if you ask any member of a writers' group you'll get the opposite answer. Just last night at the recital there were leaflets advertising four plus a booklet advertising a whole week of literary events in Birmingham.
It's a stone certainty that a large percentage of the people attending will be the same at each event.

We have poetry readings and appreciation classes at my public speaking club. They are always very well supported by the members, and the Fuller's ale has nothing to do with it!

quote:

Poetry slams are popular in coffee houses world.

Here I am complaining that poetry isn't read where I come from, and these poetry slams started in Chicago! I suppose you are right, Bob. The average man (me!) doesn't realize they exist. I'd like to search some out. Bob, we should have attended a poetry slam at the Green Mill Jazz Club. Darn! Shu and I will go and tell you about it.

I'll have to see if I can locate a Slam during our gathering here in Columbus. I'll see what I can dig up. I know they occur. There is a guy in the neighborhood where I work called "Is Said" who performs with a group, drumming and reciting poetry and dancing and stuff. It's really cool! We have him visit the library periodically.

Interestingly I have never encountered this use of the word "slam" until this thread!

I, too, had never heard of SLAM before, but now I have.

Strange, I've heard of poetry slams for quite a while now (at least a decade).

I've heard it used in a couple of American TV sitcoms, but never encountered it in the wild, as it were.