Few there be here now who can recall the beginning days of Valley’s esteemed Poetry Slam, but is not this the way of great traditions? The roots are lost in the obscure past, yet the fruit of the tree continues to come forth to nourish each new generation. remember the beginning days of this most cherished event for I, Eugene Jensen, cousin to Terry Jensen, was there to witness its coming forth.
It was in October 2004, when I first started substitute teaching at Valley, that I met the exotic Philomena Kolstat. This was be a blessed meeting, for it was through Philomena that I came to know the outstanding and unequaled personality of Lisa Kolstat the cofounder of what was to become the present day Poetry Slam (She and Philomena were somehow related, but I forget how).
It was in that year that Lisa Eugene Jensen and Philomena Kolstat and her co-conspirator, Jeff Metcalf, held the first ever student centered poetry reading at Valley. This event later became a biannual event and the title “Poetry Slam” was attached to it in the winter of 2005. Since that time the event has been held in the winter and spring of each year.
Students, faculty, and staff of Valley (along with an occasional dignitary) gather to listen as members of the audience read or recite poetry and occasionally sing or even dance. This event has become, as is true of most events at Valley, a celebration of life, of achievement in overcoming trial and adversity, a celebratory song of conquest.
Some of the poems presented at the poetry slam have not always been of the highest quality, but the spirit behind the reading and the emotions purged by the participation are cathartic in nature and therefore deemed, at least by me, as good. Walt Whitman, the American Poet of the Civil War, understood the horror and tragedies of life and he proclaimed, “I sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world.” Over the years that is what Valley’s poetry slam has come to mean to me. It is an opportunity for all to sound their “barbaric yawp” to proclaim their existence and sound off and let the world know they are here and they matter.
In his epic poem, Leaves of Grass (1892), Whitman wrote,
O Me! O Life!
Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring,
Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,
Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?
Answer.
That you are here—that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
The Poetry Slam will return again in the spring. When it does, I encourage all to participate, to celebrate their lives. To stand and publicly and claim a place in the universe.
Those who know me also know that I love Lit-Trit-Ture as I love life, and I will escape any knot my wife may have me in so that I can be in attendance. Come and join in the celebration and sound your yawp to the rooftops. Or just read a poem. Try some Whitman, I think you would like him.
NOTE: This article was written by Terry Jensen (teacher) in the persona he would play during the Poetry Slam: Eugene Jensen. The other person mentioned, Philomena Kolstat, is the persona played by Lisa Kolstat (teacher).
The Hoot 
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