Loose Leaf Notes

“Letter Rip” was coined by Black Water Loft’s Grace McCutchan in her recent chalk board announcement for our community’s monthly Spoken Word Open Mic, held at Loft.  With 14 readers presenting a variety of literary styles, we did just that on Saturday night.

It was a busy night in downtown Floyd with Laura Reed and Deep Pocket playing a free in concert as a Floydfest (our town’s four day music/art festival) kickoff at Dogtown Roadhouse.  The parking lot was full at the Jacksonville Center for the Arts, and I knew of at least one party taking place (an 80’s workout party at my friend Rowan’s house).  Even with that, we managed to draw a crowd of familiar and new faces presenting haiku, essay, storytelling, song and more.

Hot of the press?  Inspired by an image of the recent crescent moon, still burning in my mind, I scribbled a poem while driving to spoken word.  “Is sickle spelled with an S or a C,” I asked some of the resident kid poets when I arrived at the Loft.  Still hot and glowing … the moon is branded … a silver sickle … in a pasture of sky … After opening with that bitty ditty, I read some “Fit to be Quipped” one-liners from my blog and an essay about last year’s Floydfest.

I loved Mara’s poem “Weed Whacking the Graveyard” (written for her father), which I had heard earlier in the week when we played Scrabble … No grave marks the place your ashes lay …Creek stones, perhaps, still cradle your remains … She also read and performed the poetry of others and acted as town crier (calling to people on the street from the Loft’s high porch), and our eloquent evening’s emcee (video HERE).

It’s about time, Tom Bruneau, that you showed your face. We missed you.  Tom was a first-timer in this latest incarnation of spoken word but years ago was instrumental in bringing spoken word to Floyd.  A teacher (the short version of explaining him), Tom read (reading each stanza three times) “the oldest poem in this hemisphere,” that was discovered carved in rock: Your eyes … The stars … 10,000 years. He also read a poem that has recently been accepted for publication, another titled “Cosmos the Most Almost,” and his original haiku (the hallmark of which is that each line can be read in any order, Tom explained).

Precocious and poetic, Coriander Woodruff (pictured in black in the first picture) delivers poetry rants that are always moving and poetry is just one of her many artistic talents.  She is an actress, photographer, a GarageBand music composer, and an always creative dresser.

Another proven young talent and spoken word regular is Carolyn Romano, opera and folk singer who graced the stage with two of her original songs … I only dance in the afternoon … she fell in love with a midnight moon … My favorite dish ran away with the spoon … and the cat plays classical guitar … (video HERE).

I love to see new faces! It was my first time hearing readings by Roger Orton and Carmen Lytle, both from Roanoke, (because due to my grandson’s 2^nd birthday and going to Massachusetts to help my mother, I missed May and June’s spoken word).  Little girl, twirl your paper parasol … Roger read in a poem titled “Days of Sun and Sand.”

Steve Saft read a new poem about Abe Lincoln. Bethlehem Cherrix read her reflections about Floydfest, created on the spot, and Cameron Woodruff chocked us up with a story/poem about a daisy chain and his little brother Natty who died at the age of 2.

Because Greg Loft (picture above in tattoos) had earlier read a poem lamenting the loss of handwritten letters and denouncing texting and email, Mara wound the evening even down by reading a just crafted handwritten letter thanking everyone for coming and giving thanks for the welcoming comfortable space.

After letting it rip, one by one, we then Let it Be, closing the evening’s entertainment by singing along with Kyla Robbins’ sweet rendition of the Beatle song.

Post Note: Read about and view pictures of more Spoken Word nights HERE.