Well, I just went to a poetry workshop at the local library led by Oregon's reappointed poet laureate, Paulann Petersen. It was a lot of fun. I met some interesting people and joined a local writers group I hadn't known existed, though I've searched for one more than once. I'll be checking them out soon. Another group formed up after the workshop with the intent of giving readings, and I signed up for that.
I didn't know what would be involved, so I brought down a bunch of my poems just in case. Turns out we each crafted two poems on the spot after building up a backlog of images to draw from. Some surprisingly interesting poems were written in very short order, and there were far more people than I expected to see.
I bought one of Paulann's books as a courtesy for her leading the free workshop. She had a few out there, but what sold me on her book "A Bride of Narrow Escape" was the snippet of a review on the back that said the book engaged with the poet's issues of having her parents die. Talking to her during a break, she told me her mother had Alzheimers, and I told her about the problems my own elderly father was having and how hard it was to deal with it, including how hard it was to deal with it on the artistic level by writing poetry about it. It was a three-hour session, but there wasn't much time to talk.
I wrote a complete short poem there, and started off on another one. Paulann went from table to table seeing if anyone wanted to read, and I volunteered. I started off in a clear strong voice so people could hear (I couldn't hear half the poems being read out in whispered voices, and didn't want people to hear only bits and pieces). I ended up shaking in my boots as I got hit by a sudden bout of nervous self-consciousness. I can give a talk to employees, and used to give speeches well enough, but I have never done a reading of any "creative" work before. At least not since college creative writing classes. So I sweated blood. But there was healthy applause and someone told me they liked the poem after the session was done. All in all, despite my dreadful sudden flash of crippling, bowel-pulverizing nervousness, it was a good idea to read, because one day, who knows, it might matter that I can do it without swallowing my tongue.
All in all a fun and worthwhile experience. I look forward to reading the book. I read a postcard-sized(large postcard-sized) insert she stuck into the book for me while I was scribbling away which had another poem on it. Very nice, with a really nice end, and it made me happier I had decided to buy her book.