Slam Nationals

We were in St. Louis last week for the National Poetry Slam Competition. Three descriptions come to mind:

• A cross between a poetry reading and a rock concert (this one is from my older son, captain of one of the teams);
• The classic metaphor of using the 'Net as "trying to take a sip from a fire hose";
• A hockey game with pucks for words and a stick in the hands of everyone in the stands.

Did I mention aesthetic/sensory overload?

It was also an emotionally overloading experience:

• Awe at the brilliance of some of the poets;
• Sadness at the levels of redundancy (high) and maturity (low) on the part of some participants;
• Exhiliration at the idea that so many people would come together because of WORDS;
• Heartbreak at the degree to which so many poets seemed willing to waste time and blame others for everything that's wrong with the world (I should have known better; poets are people too!)
• Gratitude for witnessing (despite the family squabbles over housekeeping details and scoring) such a tremendous demonstration 0f mutual encouragement and support.

As an example of the last point, more than once I saw a poet lose her/his way while reciting a long piece from memory. Instead of boos or embarrassed (and embarrassing) silence, I heard cries of "That's OK!", "It's alright!", "Take your time1", or "T's OK, go on!", and encouraging applause from the audience. There were hugs, handclasps, backpats, eye contact, nods, smiles, and cheers following almost every performance (and there were also some tears).

It was also highly memorable, while listenting to the team performance exhibibition at an outdoor stage, to hear sirens and be surrounded by police cars, fire trucks, and helicopters! (There was a hazardous materials alert involving a structure in the same block, but no poems were damaged.)

Poetry and creativity are still alive and kicking!