Once upon an August dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a stupid website that I'd clearly read before,
While I scrolled for countless ages, there amidst the dull webpages
Stood announcement of full stages, bursting with poetic lore.
"Poets from across the country!" Poetry? Must be a bore.
I'll just surf the web some more.
But I'd browsed and hit the bottom, just before we turned to Autumn,
And I realized I'd saw them, ads that promised something more.
Poetry would be recited, and all people were invited.
Could a person be delighted just from poetry galore?
WordXWord, I'd heard, would likely offer poetry galore.
Might as well see what's in store.
Though th'event once had admission, thanks to funding acquisition,
Grants from those in a position to help spread the joy to more,
Now the whole event was gratis. Free! No fee! And with this status
Came to me divine afflatus, saying, "This you can't ignore!
World-class poetry for free? Well gee, this show you can't ignore;
See what Pittsfield has in store!"
Rooftop party, yes ‘twas raining, but the fun was never waning,
People partied, ne'er complaining, frolicking in the downpour.
Later there were poets doing head-to-head combat haikuing,
Lots of clapping, no one booing, working towards a winning score.
Seventeen syllables traded back and forth, to
These were haiku, nothing more.
As WordXWord week continued, poets read at countless venues,
From a tiny art museum, to a bra and panty store.
Heartfelt odes to pretty girls, funny tales of drugged-out squirrels,
Poems that made me give referrals to my friends that I adore.
Saying, "Hey, check out this crazy awesome poet I adore,
This is what the YouTube's for."
Words of recap can't describe it, had to be there to imbibe it,
Poetry performed with passion like I'd never seen before.
One night's theme, encyclopedic, had a poet quite comedic
Bring the house down with his heated parodied Bruce Springsteen tour.
"Born to Run, not fly," and red bandanas flew just like the tour.
Had folks rolling on the floor.
Local poets there were slamming, which was great (don't mind my hamming
things up. Yes, I read a poem, but didn't make the final four.)
From their bold poetic thunder, very skies were torn asunder,
Leaving people there to wonder, "What just went through that car's door?"
Giant letters fell and crushed a car, yet folks came through the door,
Pressing inwards to hear more.
Writing workshops were attended, from instructors skilled and splendid,
And the Poetry Olympics closed the week with mighty roar.
Team Berkshires had managed Second, better than I'd ever reckoned,
Then the afterparty beckoned, making friends with true rapport.
Free performances to lift the heart and make the spirit soar.
Miss this next year? Nevermore.