Several of our friends are fantastic artists, photographers, and poets. So a friend put together a showing and poetry reading evening at her house. Wine, cheese, fruit, coffee and pastries were served.
The house is a split-level affair. There were chairs positioned above, sort of like a balcony, and chairs around tables below. A small stage and mike were setup in the corner with colored spotlights. Jazz played in the background. It reminded me of A Night at the Improv, a stand-up setting for comics.
We first flowed through the gallery where all the artwork from each of the guests hung on walls or were propped on shelves. This stuff was amazing. One piece in particular was an oil painting where the clothing was backlit. I could swear it was a photograph. Another piece looked like a black and white, by the same artist, but it was charcoal.
Eric's pieces were there. The Sports Head was a favorite. It's a pencil sketch of various sports equipment arranged to look like a face. A baseball mitt on the top of the head resembles hair.
Next each of the guests read a poem they by a poet they especially liked, or a poem they wrote. My favorite was by Jessica about her husband. It wasn't sappy, yet genuine and touching. It's publishable.
I read a couple of mine found at GotVerse? Mark read several of his found at PoetrySoup. Great stuff Mark's. Frankly, after hearing all of their serious, sensitive, and deep poems, I didn't want to read the ones I brought. I mean, the chasm between my poems and theirs was equal to "Roses are red" and "The Raven" by Poe.
I need to write better stuff.
...dave
Verse is not written, it is bled; Out of the poet's abstract head. Words drip the poem on the page; Out of his grief, delight and rage. -Paul Engle
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