By Jeremy D. Wells
Carter County Times
“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race; and the human race is filled with passion. Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, ‘Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring, Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish… What good amid these, O me, O life? Answer. That you are here – that life exists and identity, That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse.’ That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?”
This quote, from Robin Williams in the film Dead Poet’s Society, had a tremendous impact on me as a young man.
I didn’t want to be a poet then, and I wouldn’t actually begin trying my hand at writing poetry until years later, but I had always wanted to be a writer. I honestly can’t remember a time that I didn’t want to do this with my life. I was the epitome of the bookish kid, and I knew my contribution – my verse – was always going to be something written.
I didn’t know it was going to be newspapers, necessarily. That just kind of happened and I’ve been riding that wave for the last two decades.
But I don’t think any of that would have ever happened if I hadn’t discovered poetry.
Like most folks, at first, I attended poetry readings and open mics as an observer only. Then, inspiration struck, and I started trying my hands at writing what was, to be honest, truly awful poetry. It wasn’t good. I knew it wasn’t good. But, slowly, I felt like it was getting better. Still, I couldn’t see myself ever getting up in front of a crowd and reading it to them. I might let someone read it, for themselves, out of my notebook. But I wasn’t reading in public. I was much too shy for that.
For context, the closest I came to flunking out of a section of English was when we had to do public speaking. It terrified me. I only went full-time on one speech in high school, because a friend prodded me to stretch, and I immediately ran to the bathroom and vomited from anxiety afterward. In college, I somehow passed my speech requirement by doing a group project where I did the writing and someone else presented.
I did not have the confidence to speak in front of a crowd.
Then, Jacob Rakovan forced the issue.
I was a regular at the Portsmouth area readings by then, and had been published in one of the same journals alongside Rakovan and Lenny Poage and some other folks active in the Portsmouth scene.
It was Jake who first forced me in front of a crowd – trembling, scared, and stuttering – and despite that the response was positive. It probably helped that it was a private event, but that was a key moment for me.
Today, I have no problem speaking in front of crowds of any size. Prepared content? No problem. Need me to speak extemporaneously? I can do that too. In fact, I almost prefer speaking off the cuff now. It feels less restrictive and contrived.
And that’s exactly what I’ll be doing during Memory Days, when I and the Carter County Poetry Society bring back the COVID side-lined Holler Down the Holler poetry slam. For those who aren’t familiar, a poetry slam is a competitive poetry reading event where the audience ranks their favorite performances. Poets are eliminated each round until the top three competitors remain. With Holler Down the Holler, those top three contributors all earn cash prizes, though not all slams do this. (San Antonio slam, for instance, gave away thrift store records as prizes.)
If you’d like to come out and read, judge, or just watch the show (and see how bad I mess up trying to emcee the show), you can join us at the Nook & Cranny Coffee House, in Grayson, on Thursday, May 23, starting at 5:30 p.m. No experience is necessary to read or judge – in fact, I prefer judges who tell me they don’t know poetry. In those cases, you know their responses are honest, and they are judging based on what touches and moves them; not some academic idea of what meter and rhythm define a style.
After all, beauty, romance, love, we all know what these are. We don’t need an education to recognize them. If you’re human, you have poetry in you. I promise.
And I hope you’ll join us for Memory Days to celebrate them.
Contact the writer at editor@cartercountytimes.com
