Long ago, I wrote about my first experience at a poetry reading. I have also written many times about the open mic that I attend every other Wednesday, health permitting. I have discussed in length the levels of anxiety that these events bring me, and I’m proud to report that last night was not that bad! Usually, I am extremely stressed out by the amount of people in the room with me, and once I read my poem, I will have to step outside immediately for air. Typically, I will take one or two hits off of my vape first, still hoping to get myself back in the door. Alas, it have not worked.
Well, last night, I got there kind of late due to the foggy rain whether we were having, so when I walked in the door there appeared to be no seating available, and the sign up list was already halfway filled. I put my name next to the number 15, ordered a cup of tea, and went to the back to get a sugar packet. That is when I saw ann empty barstool tucked in the corner by the bulletin board and the water dispenser. It was a slightly awkward position because a few people came to get water, but mostly I was comfortable in my space, tucked in the corner away from the crowd.
I knew I had a while before I had to read, so until the performers started I simply went over my poem in my phone. I wasn’t sure if it was any good, but I did know it had a lot of emotion in it. It was a personally brave piece for me to perform, and so I did have a bit of anxiety regarding that.
But then, since I was sitting by the water dispenser, a few people came up and acknowledged me. One of these people was a poet I have seen before named Darwin, who I think is very talented. He asked me if he had missed my reading and when I replied that he had not, he was excited. This stirred my confidence, and I became more eager for my turn.
The time came and I stood up and started reading. I started out with a small, old poem about having chronic illness, and I meant to of course mention my chapbook regarding such things, but I forgot. Then I launched into a new piece that I have been working on, and that went very well. I personally think it has a particularly good closing line, and that seemed to be reflected in the response from the audience. I got a great deal of clapping and hollering, and someone screamed “We love you, Brigid!” I don’t know who they were, but I love you, too!
Of course, after I return to my seat the walls started to close in. I put my tea mug in the dirty dish bin, and I headed outside to hit my vape. On the way out the door, a guy grabbed my attention and told me he really liked my poem. I thought that was pretty cool of him to say, and walked out the door with a little pep in my step.
Outside, were Justin, who hosts the event, as well as Darwin and another poet named Nick. I heard Nick for the first time last night. He did a rap about a noodle dish he loves to make with his partner. I thought that was very creative. Justin came up to me and told me I did a good job, which was nice of him. Then Darwin and Nick and I talked for a moment, and Darwin told me he liked that I could write poems the way I did. I had said before I read mine that I did not write many love poems – rarely are there hearts and flowers amongst my work. I prefer to write “pissed me off” poetry. Darwin told me that it was the reverse for him, and so he admired my ability to write about anger. I, in turn, admire his ability to write about hearts and flowers.
Right about then, my brain did it’s crazy-brain thing, and suddenly I felt incredibly sick to my stomach. I decided I would take off instead of going back into the crowded and hot room, and bid I the gentlemen I was talking to with adieu. I walked back to the car in the rain, and drove home on foggy streets. When I got home, I talked to Mark for an hour about it. I told him it was the best reception to a poem I have received, and I was delighted.
The last time I went I read Monster, which has been published but is frankly difficult to find on the interwebs, so good luck if you want to read it. I got a pretty great reception for that one, even though it was an old poem that I wrote over the course of several years, long ago. Last night, I read a new poem, about the same situation of Monster, and the reception was even larger. I was blissful.
I think of my mother in moments like this, wishing she could come with me to see me perform, but knowing she is watching from wherever she is. When they clap for me at the cafe, I imagine her amongst them, cheering me on forever. Maybe that’s why I battle my anxiety every couple of weeks, and keep going back.
Happy Thursday!
Ham 'N Eggs- by Brigid Hannon 
Thank you for sharing your experiences reading your poetry. We had such open-mike experiences at an Army camp in Afghanistan a little over a decade ago. I read several of my poems, so I know the anxious wondering before reading and the surprised elation when praised, and the descent after the endorphins calm down. I also think my best poems spring from anger and disappointment. Keep creating and searching for answers to anger. I will do the same.
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