Poets’ Concord: Where Everyone Speaks Poetry


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While the rest of Newport, Oregon celebrated Loyalty Days with a carnival, a race, a parade, the crowning of a festival queen, and a field of flags honoring our veterans, and while freakishly hot weather brought scantily-clad crowds to beaches where it’s usually daring to go without a coat, hat and gloves, approximately 100 of us gathered at the Hallmark Inn and Resort last weekend to talk about poetry.
Poetry? Yes, poetry. Your average American will think you’re strange if you say you like poetry, stranger still if you tell them you’re an actual poet, but not here. The Northwest Poets’ Concord, now in its fifth year, is a wonderful three-day event in which we’re surrounded by our people. These are the kind of folks who spill their coffee or trip on the stairs and say, “Ah, there’s a poem in that.”
We gathered for workshops on performance poetry, sonnets, poems about body parts, poetry and photography, poetry and yoga, poetry and drama, poetry and the blues, and more. When the days’ classes were over, we gathered in the new beachside banquet room below Georgie’s Beachside Grill for open mic sessions where we could hear and cheer each other’s poems. And we stopped at the conference bookstore to buy each other’s books and take a little of the magic home.
Poets usually write in solitude, but for three days in Newport, they’re not alone.
It felt odd to emerge from my final session into the hot afternoon and shop for dinner at the J.C. Market with the tourists buying beer and ice. They didn’t understand that every item that went into the cart could become a poem. Ode to a watermelon. The perfect sonnet about a tomato. Fried chicken blues. You never know.
We’ll soon be planning next year’s Northwest Poets’ Concord. Check out our website at poetsconcord.org and visit our Facebook page, too. And hey, try reading a poem.

Christmas at Georgie’s

We ate Christmas dinner sitting side by side at a table overlooking the ocean at Georgie’s Beachside Grill in Newport, OR. After days of snow and ice, the air had warmed up enough that we just had rain. The sky offered an ever-changing show of white, blue and thunder-gray, and the sea, a froth of white and aquamarine, covered the entire beach. Living here, we often forget to look at the ocean so near our home, but we had plenty of time on Christmas. Until the food came, it was that or look at ourselves in the mirror on the far wall.

One might expect most people to be at home with their loved ones, opening presents, eating monstrous meals, everyone talking at once, but it was just the two of us, plus many other couples and family groups who decided not to cook. Our one expected guest, our son Michael, was still snowed in and couldn’t get here from Portland, and I decided it was not a holiday for me if I had to spend the day in the kitchen.

The “Grill” part of Georgie’s name is a misnomer. Located next to the Hallmark Hotel, it is an elegant restaurant with white tablecloths, crystal glasses, candles, staff in white shirts and black pants, soft music, the whole bit. For Christmas, one could have anything on the regular menu, but the specials were the best deal. For $18.95, we got plates loaded with turkey, ham, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy,sweet potatoes and green beans almondine, followed by our choice of a four-berry cobbler covered with vanilla bean ice cream or a chocolate lava cake. We walked out of there so full it hurt. We didn’t need another meal that day. We just nibbled on some of the many cookies and candies sent by loved ones.

While we were filling up on actual food, our dog Annie was eating half of her brother Chico’s red collar. We’re talking thick, heavy-duty stuff. Upon arriving home, we realized Chico was naked. I soon spotted half of his collar on the grass. Luckily it was the half with the buckle and tags. Poop-scooping over the next three days showed us where the other half went. Annie. It didn’t seem to bother her.

Enjoy the rest of the holidays, and, as I keep telling the dogs, “If it ain’t food, don’t eat it.”