Category Archives: Poetry

Open Mic – Brew’d Awakening

Talented! Talented! Talented!

On Thursday of September 17th I attended my very first live poetry slam in a long while. It was held at the Brew’d Awakening Coffeehaus, 61 Market St in downtown Lowell (www.brewdawakening.com)

Well…WOW spectacular! It was filled with non-stop energy as each poet unleashed their talent of spoken words on an eagerly awaiting audience. Each performance earned an agreeable, head nod with an “hmm” and fingers snapping along with shouts of woo hoos!

October 1st, my second open mic in Lowell, same location as before, and a packed house. I took my usual position in the rear of the room, in my opinion the best vantage point.
The energy exploded as Anthony Febo, took the microphone and announced the first performance. The rhythm and rhymes came flowing through as poets, masters of spoken words voiced their creative expertise, filling the listeners with a feeling of ecstasy and leaving them with an attitude of gratitude.

The featured poets Ryan McLellan and Mark “The Colonel” Palos, two of New Hampshire’s slam veterans and National Poetry Slam representatives, gave a rousing performance and having you wishing they could continue. Well, all good things come to an end.

Open mic is held every 1st and 3rd Thursday of each month at the Brew’d Awakening, come on out and support the arts in Lowell and the talent of those young and seasoned.

Once in a While – A Bit of Poetry

101_1102Along with drawing, painting, taking photographs, I write, and ever so often I write poems. Similar to my art I am influenced and inspired by my surroundings, people, and just everyday life. Once in a while I show my poems, here is one of those times. This one was written over ten(10) years ago, it got published in the literary arts magazine at college.

 

 

 
Summer

She leaves in a blaze of glory
Splashing her bright colors
On the oaks and maples,
Heralding the fall.
Her heat simmers to a cool wisp
Touching my face the with gentle reminder that
The cold winter draws nigh.

She lies down quietly
No, she is not dead.
Winter’s gray, ghostly blanket covers her, she is unseen.
She takes with her the frolic and the laughter of the long days.

Before long, she stirs again,
Bringing with her chirping birds,
Flashy tulips and new life,
Springing from every corner
Paving the way for her dramatic entrance.