Poetry BBQ

Thanks to everyone who made last night's meeting/BBQ such a big success! Patrick, whose great idea this was, made the extra-large effort in scoping out the meeting place, planning the menu, cooking for the hungry, BBQ-eatin' poets, and even writing a few poems for everyone to read and listen to. He said he's become much more prolific in his writing recently (thanks in small part to the group), but how he pulled it all off and still had the time to right, no one knows. Thanks, Pat!

John S. read a legend about the werewolf of Grosse Pointe (it had a catchy French name which I can't remember right now, except the first part was "lupo", which as John C. pointed out is derived from the latin for "wolf"). He picked up the book for a dollar in a local used book store in Dearborn- there are so many treasures out there and these stores (or your library!) are great places to find them.

Connie read a couple of her latest, including one about her newfound passion, working out, which has already found its way onto her gym's bullet board. When she is moved (literally and emotionally, now), she writes. Great work, Connie!

Diana read two new pieces. One fun, abstract teaser which jumped consciousness from animal to animal, while still holding onto D's personality. The other was an adaptation of the assignment for last month's session, though I might have still been chewing on my brownie to remember all that it was about.

An oldie but newbie member, Nandi, signed up quick for this when she saw BBQ was part of the program, though her poems about the deaths of her grandmother and father were so touching and so real, everyone was moved. She has a way with speaking, too, that draws everyone in; a voice of such certainty, you believe everything she writes (b/c in person, she's awfully nice).

Patrick had a number of works for everyone to read, and while we couldn't get to them all, the highlight was a lampooning of John C.'s recent news of getting one of his SF stories published. Everyone laughed and felt the good-natured ribbing- though John was not quite ready to don the cape and cigar and high-falutin attitude.

I read a poem I turned up from years back that i had re-tooled recently. It is set to a walk to the lake with my sister's dog. It was somber and the last poem of the night, so everybody rushed to help Patrick pack up and escape the mosquito attack we had been trying to thwart.

John S. made a small book of pantouns on Lulu.com. If anybody is interested in self-publishing their own books, they should have a look at his and talk to him more. (I can talk to you about Blurb.com, if you're interested)