Thursday evening at The Roasting Shed reminded me why I both love and fear reading aloud. Standing there with my pages, facing an audience that actually listened, I felt that familiar mix of vulnerability and exhilaration that only live poetry can create.
The space itself helped – industrial but warm, with people genuinely engaged rather than scrolling phones or checking watches. The organizers weren’t lying about the inclusive atmosphere. Writers of completely different styles and experience levels shared the same microphone without anyone feeling out of place.
Patrizia Longhitano’s headlining set was impressive. Her background as Latinx immigrant poet resonated with my own experience of navigating cultural boundaries through language. Watching her command the microphone reminded me that poetry performance is its own craft, separate from writing itself.
My own reading revealed things about my work I hadn’t noticed on the page. Some lines that felt powerful in silence fell flat when spoken. Others gained unexpected weight through vocal emphasis. The immediate feedback from live audience – even just their breathing patterns – taught me more about rhythm than months of silent revision.
What surprised me most was discovering I actually enjoyed the nervousness. That slight tremor in your hands, the hyper-awareness of every word choice – it sharpened the entire experience. Reading poetry aloud strips away all pretense and forces genuine connection.
The evening confirmed something I’d suspected about London’s poetry community. Events like this create space for authentic exchange rather than academic posturing. People came to hear poetry, not to network or compete.
Sometimes you need the microphone to truly hear your own voice.
— Writer Anastasia Dubinina