Loose Leaf Notes

Welcome in the word… Have you heard? Mara Robbins
Small squares of laminated words from favorite poems hung from the poet tree like holiday ornaments. Under them, and situated between two nearby stages, the poets read whenever there was a break in the music performance line-up during the 3 day world music festival (Floyd Fest). Some read in the fog and drizzle and some in the steamy hot sunshine…One day we’ll all write books…then retire to a tropical island…to live without shoes off our royalties…pick fruit of the trees for breakfast…We’ll buy fresh fish wrapped in newsprint…but won’t read the news on Iraq… (colleen).

Some festival goers came to hear certain scheduled poets, others were drawn in on the spur of the moment by the spell that the cadence of language can spin, and in between readings some of us got up on the soap box and did some foot stomping and romping…that which is in motion stays alive…light of a star…sound of a wave…go on…turn the wheel (alycia).

Others stopped to listen, hearing the call of solidarity, because they recognized the poet as town crier, the bard compelled to voice the truth when the emperor is wearing no clothes… i worry when the state of the union address…holds no promise of union for america…when we are stumbling and grumbling…for the old american dream that… all-white all-male…judicial team that…forces women senators into hot pink…while their male counterparts sleep in slate grey suits. (alli)

The word “festivalized” was frequently heard, shouted out, much like a revolutionized incantation, invoking the poem with the same name that Mara had written and performed, and calling all listeners to action… Raise your choice…Use your lives…Speak your voice… Lest our lives… Lose…Let our muse…Live!!! … Wake up! …Wake up and play! … You are instrumental! (mara)

Photo: Mara (horizontal), Alysha, Alli: Floyd Fest Spoken Word Staff, all creative writing students at Hollins Women’s College. Colleen is perched in the b(l)ack, hanging with the rest of the Floyd Fest poet tree flock. You can see the poems hanging from the tree in the next photo.