Finding support through spoken word: a night of poetry

Last Saturday night I found myself walking up the winding staircase of 41 Quebec Street to the ebar, the upstairs portion of the well-known Guelph reading nook The Bookshelf. The warmth of the room, dimly-lit save for an illuminated stage that held a single microphone, provided welcome refuge from the crisp September wind outside. The faint scent of beer hung in the air, while the voice of a folk singer crooned from the speakers above, mixing with the gentle hum of conversation to create an intimate atmosphere. I had come to watch the Poetry Slam, a monthly event established by the non-profit arts organization Guelph Spoken Word.
Held the third Saturday of the month, the rules of the Slam are fairly simple. No props, costumes, or musical accompaniments are permitted. Likewise, each poet is given 3 minutes for their performance, and must only use original material. Ten different spoken word artists are given the opportunity to slam, and the winner walks away with $100, as well as an invitation to compete as a member of next year’s poetry slam team. It is five judges, selected at random from the audience, who score the contestants from zero to ten and base the poet on both their content and performance. With these ground rules firmly in place and the audience extremely excited—thanks to the admirable energy and charm of the lively host—the heavily anticipated night of poetry was free to begin.
The show opened with an open mic portion and so several different poets took the stage to share their poetry. Although all were rich in artistic talent, the subjects of these performances were quite varied. One poet’s presentation was politically charged, rallying the audience to support the Green Party in the upcoming election, while another recital took the form of a song, painting pictures for the audience of lazy boyhood summers and wild Western canyon adventures. For many poets this was their first performance, and yet, despite the lack of experience, all were thoughtful pieces that had obviously been carefully prepared.
The evening then transitioned to the competition portion of the night. A deep breath, crinkling of notes, and the lone poet onstage turns to look at the audience, pausing slightly before beginning his rhythmic spoken word and starting off the slam. These performances carried a slightly more personal quality than the open mic performances, most exploring personal tragedies like social anxiety, disordered eating, self-harm, and racial prejudice. Each recital had a powerful impact on the audience, made clear by the moment of awed silence as the poet left the stage, the words of his or her strong tale resonating with everyone in the room. The slam offered these artists a chance to transform human tribulations into art, and the audience an opportunity for reflection.
Marion Reidel, that night’s feature poet, followed the slam performances with her own recital. Previously working as a freelance journalist, Reidel is currently an educator at Our Lady of Lourdes Catholic High School where she teaches Visual Arts and Writer’s Craft. Her piece, titled The Language of Love, evoked laughter and cheers from the audience. Mixing humour with the pain of watching someone grow old, she told the story of a relationship between a daughter and her aging mother, leaving listeners with the message that although love might not always take the form of sweet words, it exists nonetheless.
One might initially think that a night filled with listening to artists discuss such troubling issues would leave viewers in a state of melancholy. However, I can happily report that I found the opposite to be true. Indeed, the slam created a sense of connectivity. The poets’ stories reminded listeners that, in being human, we all experience some sort of personal struggle. Similarly, the support offered up by the audience emphasized that we are never alone in our battles—we merely need to find those who are willing to listen.