What can one do for Poetry Day? I wondered a few weeks ago. Then before I realised it Poetry Day was the next day and I panicked. I got an email from a friend about an evening event and quickly searched to find it. With a sign of relief I sat down to do my bit for the cause.
At 5.45pm I entered the foyer of the theatre and asked the girl at the counter of the theatre shop for the poetry event. “Take the lift to the sixth floor”, came the answer. This I duly did and the lift opened to a scene of tea and cakes. Friends were greeted with a smile and a hug, water poured into a cup and the cup then balanced in an effort to acquire a piece of rice cake (I had not had lunch and thus needed substinance).
My poor effort for the was evening written on a piece of A4, while others had bookmarked well worn editions of poetry favourite collections, which were now in their hands and their expressions were of nervous anticipation. I sat down at a small table and looked at my piece of paper.
Did it rhyme? Should it rhyme? Would it make sense? “She’s rehearsing her poem”, I hear someone say. This comforted me, at least someone realised my feelings. We all sat in a corner of the Upper Gallery Vestibule, seats arranged in a semi circle, then the poetry began. The first was a vast historic poem on the authors’ hero Nelson. It described the battle of Trafalgar and the death of Nelson and was performed with gusto and a real feeling for the event. A grand opening to the proceedings.
A verse from Camus was read in Japanese then English and whose philosophy was understood by all those present in both languages. Then John Betejemin whose tale of ‘Miss Joan Hunter Dunn’ gave a joyous mirth to the event. Then a poem by Milton on the meaning of life, which gave everyone present food for thought. All were entertained by expert readings of famous and not so famous poems.
Somehow I acquired courage to stand up and read from the page in front of me.
Some words were not on the page, but at least I made some of those present laugh. And they do say that sometimes, laughter is better than tears.
The evening was closed with a reading of Martin Luther Kings’ speech
‘I had a dream’. A fine ending to a fine evening.
