Poetry Connection: Connecting with Music and Literary Festivals

Melinda Palacio

This weekend I am excited to go the Tahoe Literary Festival. I haven’t been to the lake Tahoe area since my attendance to the Community of Writers conference over fifteen years ago. Now, in its second year, the Tahoe Literary Festival begins on Friday, October 10 with a community day of free literary workshops and an open mic. Most of the workshops take place at the Boatworks Mall. Some of the events are further along the lake at the Gatekeeper’s Museum or the Tahoe Wine Collective. The free Friday workshop sessions include: How to Create an Audiobook, How to Write a Novel in an Hour, Landscapes of the Soul: Writing Nature and Adventure Poetry with Heart, and No-Stress Songwriting. Saturday’s schedule is jam-packed with workshops from 9-3pm, followed by a bookfair and a singer-songwriter showcase from 6:30 -8 pm.

What’s impressive about this festival is the accessible pricing. The opening afternoon is free and the Saturday festival is $57.03 with two-session passes for $31.56 and single sessions for $16.27. I will be presenting on two sessions: Echoes of the Sierra: A Poet laureate Conversation at 9 a.m. and, later, at 2 p.m. in a session titled: Honoring the Women Who Have Shaped Us. In between my events, I am looking forward to attending workshops on: Writing as an Act of Resistance, Using Archetypes to Empower Writing, and Beat Poetry and the Grateful Dead. I am both inspired by speaking and teaching, as well as hearing from other workshops leaders and students.

Over the past two weekends, I attended two music festivals: The Los Angeles International Ukulele Festival and the Santa Barbara Old-Time Fiddlers’ Festival. The music festivals were more seasoned than the upcoming Tahoe Literary Festival. The ukulele festival celebrates its 9^th year and the Santa Barbara Festivalis in its 53^rd year. The music festivals both had much in common with each other. The Ukulele festival offered free workshops to beginners all day on Saturday, the main day with extra performances during Friday’s luau and Sunday’s brunch. Community members had free access to the marketplace with vendors from Hawaii and around the country who sold ukuleles, food, clothing, jewelry and accessories. There’s also an open mic and various groups that find a corner to jam and share music.

Festival organizer, Mitch Chang brought in well-known ukulele artists and performers from around the world. This year’s performers included Abe Lagrimas Jr. from Hawaii, Dani Usero from Spain, Hoku Bray and Kula A’o ‘Ukulele ‘o HoKu, Daniel Ate the Sandwich, Bernadette, Kimo Hussey, and so many more; it was indeed and international festival. I also enjoyed the jazz ukulele workshop from Sarah Maisel. All three days took place at the Torrance Cultural Center. Next year’s 10^th celebration promises to be even bigger. This year, close to seven hundred people attended.

The Santa Barbara Old-Time Fiddlers’ Festival reminded me of the Ukulele festival but with different instruments. I don’t play fiddle, but was interested in the guitar workshop, as well as, the Appalachian Flatfooting, and the module on how to play the spoons. The festival included seminars on Clawhammer Banjo, Mandolin, and, of course, fiddle. There was also a special talk on how Peter Feldman founded the first fiddlers convention on the lagoon in front of the UCEN at UCSB. Similar to the ukulele festival, there are performances all day. The ukulele festival also had two open mic sessions throughout the day, one indoor at the Ken Miller Auditorium and one outside in the marketplace at the Ohana booth. Similar to the all-day open-mic sessions, the Fiddlers festival featured musical contests all day, interspersed with concerts by professional musicians. Both festivals benefitted from great weather. I will report from Lake Tahoe next time.

This week’s poetry connection poem comes from Port Hueneme’s Lori Anaya.

Mama Gives Death the Finger

Lori Anaya

Death smiles, a clattering hoof-rattle smile

He comes for her. -Oh yeah-. Drum clatter clink.

“You hold on a minute,” she says from bed

Takes a breath, closes her eyes, “Mind if I eat first?”

Another day, a week, a year…Death waits.

“I’ve ordered a chocolate shake.” Rattle, crackle, lungs

Trap a bit of breath, “My daughter’s coming to sing.”

-Oh, yeah?-

Death snuggles next to dementia, lodges in her throat. 

She inhales the shake. Lungs rattle-roar. Coughs. 

A fit of coughing. She wags a finger, gathers her wits

breath, heartbeat. “You, and I have some talking to do.” 

-You’re running out of minutes. –

She gives Death the finger.

- I do so like watching you- he exhales

“Don’t rush me.”

-Eighty-eight is a good run-

“Nooo, I’m not that old.” 

A glint in her eyes, “Want to dance?”

-Your final request? –

She waves him off. He hovers.

“Don’t get your hopes up 

Just because I move a little slow these days.”

-You have nice eyes-

“Haven’t heard that in a long time.”

She faces him. With a smile, she reaches out.

Lori Anaya, poet, teacher, writer, Macondista-Sandra Cisneros Writing Group Fellow, and SCWriP Fellow. Her poetry is published in literary journals, Women Who Write Blog Series, August 4, 2025, and Labloga.blogspot.com, April 28, 2023. She lives and works in the traditional and contemporary land of Chumash people. When not working, she rides her horse into conservancy land where nature overlooks the fact that she is human.

 

*this post was previously published in the Santa Barbara Independent 

Closing out Poetry Month with Lori Anaya

Lori Anaya

 

Letter to My Face 

Lori Anaya 

Eyes, 

I never liked how you were almond shaped 

A perfect blend of blue to green and flecks of gold, but 

Different from the rest 

Not as beautiful as my mother’s, 

Passed out on the table 

Day after day oozing innocent sleep 

And hate 

Instead of dinner 

Eyes, if only you could be dark 

Sharp-clawed 

Midnight 

Like Attila 

Or cafecito, morenito, abuelitos brown 

Guarding past, future, 

Now, guarding my tears 

Even those that do not fall 

Eyes, you watched 

Four sisters disappear 

To the house on the hill 

Without me 

Eyes, you turned away 

From sticker fields 

Fist fights and kick fights, 

From planting trees and beautiful things 

To the nowhere and the nothing 

Of searching for sweet crumbs 

Eyes, you left me to mend decades, and 

Places where the bears once fought. 

I’ve grown to love you, Eyes, 

Lizard hunting days 

Orange-pink dawns in soft sand 

Drawing horses 

And cloud portraits 

Watercolor dreams 

I’ve grown to love your place in my life 

On the mask that is my face 

Above the nose I didn’t want 

Nose, 

Even though you are perfect 

Smooth 

Sloped in a straight line like my father’s 

And not the beautiful strong nose of my mother 

You are the nose of stink and silences 

Of dank dungeon, unwanted 

Of people who claim to be family, 

Of refrigerated vodka, no ice cubes needed. 

I’ve grown to love how you smell sweetness 

Outside the door of childhood 

How you smell the young skin of Nephew’s daughter 

How you smell calmness and strength 

How you smell dead animal, pine trees, even rain 

Or fear... 

You fit perfectly in the oval face 

That is my mask 

Lips, hiding so many words 

Lies and truths unspoken 

And some you’ve had the courage to bring forth 

You are full and beautiful 

You are language 

And translations 

Intonations 

Catholic incantations 

Spanish trills 

Tewa hills 

Pragmatic 

English, Spanish 

Even problematic, sometimes, but 

You call forth words 

Help me greet the world 

And share my heart 

Eyes, Nose, Lips 

You were the unwanted face, of 

The unwanted daughter 

The unwanted words rang out 

When my father said he never loved my mother 

You make me glad you were a mask, 

Lone sentinel 

I never realized 

I could love you 

PS 

Dear Heart 

 Lori Anaya is a bilingual teacher, poet, writer, presenter, and one of five sisters. She is a Southcoast Writing Project Fellow and Young Writer’s Academy instructor. Published in short story and poetry: the Santa Barbara Literary Journal, Avalon Literary Review, and lunareview.com. She is an active member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators, a Summer Conference grant winner for middle grade, and picture book creator. When not writing, she rides a paint mare into The Land Conservancy where nature overlooks the fact that she is human.