. In a thrown back setting of yesterday year. I sat and listened. A varying degree of items decorated the walls. A confused but organized look, this place embraced me, like a mother holding her delicate baby for this first time.
The round stone table that I sat, held this feeling of cold steel. Hundreds of bottle of wines lined one wall, they reminded me of ranked up soldiers coming home from the battlefields of the world. The pinot noir from California to the sangiovese from Italy, all waiting to be greeted by their fellow countryman and I loved them all. The warm lighting was soft set, taking me back in time when life was good and simple.
Across the room, a small group gathered to reminisce about times forgotten. Sharing drinks and food, laughter was plenty, with smiles inviting conversation. More drinks would follow, which meant more cheers. Drink to the bottom of the glass, I'd say. Then, there was this couple, sitting in high top chairs behind me. Well educated and enchanted talks from them, would wonder through the air toward me. Surrounding me with family stories and by gone times. Ado about nothing I would say, but for them it was their life. So I had another drink of wine, often interrupted by ladies walking through the small place, book club members I was told. They could never seem to close the door either. Because every time they opened it, the cold bone chilling wind from outside would whip through the place and smack everyone of us so hard our lips froze to the very glass we were holding. Let's just say it was a frozen kind of night outside in good ole Highwood.
Once the evening settled inside this cozy little joint, voices started to ring. From behind me, to the side of me and in front of me. Like the bells of Notre Dame rings through Paris, these hollowed voices enveloped my lonely soul. Encapsulating my senses with each syllable. I sat stone faced and amused at the same time. Here I was at my very first slam. Watching the Speak' Easy Ensemble take over time in a bottle.
Poetry about life experiences, Chicago, and an Ode to Students chilled and warmed the very hearts that sat before them. Soft voices, loud voices, funny voices and serious voices and that was just the beginning. Laughter, smiles and cheers filled the air with every word spoken. These very simple poets drew on my very existence. I had never felt so enthralled and taken in from these words of spoken values. I saw poetry in its raw true form. There in front of me, so close I can touch their words. Names like Sully, Sherry, Joel and the woman in black, to whom I could not remember her name, are the professional poetic performers called the Speak' Easy Ensemble. My very first poetry slam in front of small and subtle crowd of everyday people.
Take a bow poets, well deserved.
My very first poetry slam in Highwood, IL at the Cellar Gate