idols and ghosts

After somehow managing to finish reading the shortlisted general submissions before bedtime on Friday, I thought I should treat myself to getting out, so went to the last heat of Poetry Idol at Box Hill library on Saturday. It was a fun day and I was talked into competing once I arrived (if you flick through the pics, you'll find me in my (el cheapo) granny glasses that I can now not live without). Despite being the seventeenth reader and some participants thinking this had a certain meaning, I didn't make it to the final.

Aside from just being there and enjoying the afternoon, the prize for me, I guess, was a comment from one man in particular. Several people did say something about my poem to me afterwards (which tends to happen when you write openly about being in labour), but one man approached me during the break, gently tapped my arm and said 'Thank you. I was at the birth of my child, and I will never forget.' From his expression, I could tell he was touched and that my piece was meaningful to him, and for me, that's what it's about.

One of the things I loved about the afternoon was the diversity of people in the room: nationalities, ages, and various levels and experiences with poetry. Everyone mingling and chatting, with people they already knew and people they didn't.

As far as getting out goes, I think that's it until Friday 14th August when I trek into the Old Melbourne Gaol for the launch of Nathan Curnow's The Ghost Poetry Project. Nathan is one of my heroes (which I may explain one day), so this is one launch I've been looking forward to.