How to Join Poetry Slam at Alberta Street Pub Portland

Portland, Oregon, has long been celebrated as a cultural crucible for independent art, spoken word, and underground creativity. At the heart of this vibrant scene lies the Alberta Street Pub — a cozy, dimly lit venue tucked into the historic Alberta Arts District that has become a legendary home for poetry slams since the early 2000s. If you’ve ever felt the pull of rhythm in your bones, the urgency in your words, or the need to be heard beyond the page, then joining a poetry slam at Alberta Street Pub isn’t just an event — it’s a rite of passage.

Poetry slams are more than competitions; they’re communal acts of vulnerability, courage, and connection. They transform silence into sound and solitude into solidarity. At Alberta Street Pub, the slam is not curated for elite performers — it’s open to anyone with a story, a voice, or a heartbeat. Whether you’re a seasoned poet, a first-time reader, or simply someone curious about the power of live spoken word, this guide will walk you through every step of joining, preparing for, and thriving in the Alberta Street Pub Poetry Slam.

This tutorial is designed to be your complete, authoritative resource — no fluff, no filler. We’ll cover practical logistics, insider tips, psychological preparation, community norms, and real stories from those who’ve stepped onto that small stage. By the end, you’ll not only know how to join — you’ll understand why it matters, how to stand out, and how to become part of a legacy that has shaped Portland’s literary identity for over two decades.

Step-by-Step Guide

1. Understand the Format and Schedule

The Alberta Street Pub Poetry Slam operates on a consistent weekly schedule, typically held every Thursday night at 8:00 PM. Doors open at 7:30 PM, and the event usually runs until 10:30 PM. The format is simple but powerful: 10–12 open mic slots are filled by sign-ups on a first-come, first-served basis. Two judges (selected randomly from the audience) score each performer on a scale of 0 to 10, with decimal points allowed. The highest and lowest scores are dropped, and the middle three are summed for a final score out of 30.

Each performer has exactly three minutes — with a 10-second grace period. Exceeding this results in point deductions. There are no props, costumes, or musical accompaniment allowed. The stage is bare: one mic, one stool, and the raw power of your voice. This minimalism is intentional — it forces the focus onto the words, the emotion, and the presence of the poet.

2. Arrive Early — Before 7:30 PM

Arriving early is non-negotiable. The venue holds approximately 80 people, and the slam often sells out. Even if you’re not performing, showing up early ensures you get a seat — and more importantly, it gives you time to observe the energy of the room. The sign-up sheet for performers is posted at the bar or near the stage by 7:30 PM sharp. You must be physically present to sign up. No online registration, no phone calls, no exceptions.

If you arrive after 7:45 PM, your chances of securing a slot drop dramatically. The first 10–12 names on the list get to perform. The rest may be placed on a waitlist, but only if someone drops out — which rarely happens. Plan your transportation accordingly. Alberta Street Pub is easily accessible via MAX Light Rail (stop at Alberta Street), bike lanes, or rideshare. Parking is limited, so avoid driving unless you’re prepared to walk a few blocks.

3. Prepare Your Poem — But Don’t Over-Prepare

Many newcomers make the mistake of memorizing their poem word-for-word like a script. While it’s important to know your piece intimately, the most compelling performances are those that feel alive — not rehearsed. Focus on three elements: clarity, emotion, and rhythm.

Choose a poem that resonates with you personally. Slams reward authenticity over technical perfection. A poem about your grandmother’s hands, your first heartbreak, the weight of silence after a loss, or even the absurdity of ordering coffee in a language you don’t speak — these are the stories that linger. Avoid clichés (“I am the storm,” “fire in my soul”) unless you can reinvent them with fresh imagery.

Practice aloud — not in your head. Read your poem to friends, record yourself on your phone, and listen back. Pay attention to where you stumble, where you rush, or where you lose breath. Time yourself. Aim for 2:45 to keep a buffer. If your poem is too long, edit ruthlessly. If it’s too short, deepen the imagery, not the length.

4. Sign Up at the Venue

When you arrive, head straight to the bar or the designated sign-up area. A volunteer (often a regular slam participant or the host) will have a clipboard or notebook. Write your first name only — no last names, no pseudonyms unless you’ve established them in the community. Avoid using stage names like “The Whispering Phoenix” unless you’ve been known by that name for months. The slam thrives on human connection, not personas.

Once you’ve signed up, you’ll be given a number. This determines your order on stage. The host will call names in sequence, usually starting with

1 and ending with the last sign-up. Don’t worry about your position — there’s no advantage to going first or last. The audience responds to presence, not placement.

5. When It’s Your Turn: Step Onstage Confidently

When your number is called, take a breath. Walk to the stage slowly. Don’t rush. The room will fall quiet — not out of judgment, but out of respect. Make eye contact with the audience. Smile if you feel it. Don’t apologize for being nervous. That’s part of the poetry.

Adjust the mic only if needed. Most poets leave it at chest height. Hold your paper if you need to — many do. But if you’ve practiced enough, try to look up at least 60% of the time. The connection with the audience is what transforms words into experience.

When you begin, speak clearly. Don’t shout. Don’t whisper. Find your natural volume — the one that carries without strain. Pause after powerful lines. Let silence breathe. The audience will lean in. They’re waiting to feel something.

When your time is up, the host will give a gentle signal — a hand raise or a soft “thank you.” Stop immediately. Don’t finish a sentence. Don’t add a line. Exit the stage with dignity. Don’t look for applause — it will come. And if it doesn’t? That’s okay too. Not every poem lands. But every voice matters.

6. After Your Performance: Engage, Don’t Disappear

Many first-timers leave immediately after performing, fearing judgment. Don’t. Stay. Sit down. Listen to others. Applaud. Nod. Smile. This is not a competition you win alone — it’s a community you join. The poets who return week after week are the ones who show up as audience members, too.

If someone’s poem moved you, tell them. A simple “That line about your father’s silence — I felt that” means more than any score. You’ll be surprised how many poets are just as nervous as you are. Your kindness becomes part of the culture.

7. Return — Even If You Didn’t Score Well

Scoring is subjective. A poem that scores 21 might be more impactful than one that scores 28. One year, a poet received a 19 for a piece about her mother’s dementia — and it was the most powerful performance of the season. The audience stood. No one clapped. They just cried. That’s the point.

Don’t let a low score discourage you. The Alberta Street Pub Slam is not about winning trophies. It’s about showing up. Many of Portland’s most celebrated poets — including those who’ve performed at the National Poetry Slam — started with a 17 and returned the next week. Your voice doesn’t need to be perfect. It just needs to be yours.

Best Practices

1. Respect the Space — It’s Sacred

Alberta Street Pub is not a bar first and a stage second. It’s a temple of words. No phone usage during performances. No talking while someone is reading. No interruptions. If you need to leave, wait until the end of a poem. The community holds this space with reverence — honor it.

2. Avoid Political or Offensive Content Unless It’s Necessary

While poetry slams welcome raw truth, the Alberta Street Pub crowd values emotional honesty over shock value. Avoid slurs, graphic violence, or hate speech — even if framed as “art.” The slam is not a platform for provocation without purpose. If your poem critiques systems of power, do it with nuance, not anger. Let the audience feel the weight, not the aggression.

3. Don’t Read from Your Phone or Notes

While paper is acceptable, reading from a phone screen is frowned upon. It creates a barrier between you and the audience. If you must use notes, print them in large font and hold them low — not in front of your face. The goal is connection, not distraction.

4. Be Consistent, Not Just Occasional

One-time performers are common. Regulars are legends. The most respected poets at Alberta Street Pub aren’t the highest scorers — they’re the ones who show up every week, rain or shine, whether they’re performing or not. They bring snacks for the host. They help set up chairs. They cheer for newcomers. They become the glue of the community.

5. Don’t Compare Yourself to Others

You’ll hear poets who’ve been doing this for 15 years. You’ll hear teenagers who write like they’ve lived a hundred lifetimes. You’ll hear people who don’t rhyme at all, and others who craft perfect sonnets. None of it matters. Your voice is not a competition. It’s a contribution. Show up as you are.

6. Learn to Receive Feedback Gracefully

After your performance, someone might approach you with feedback — a comment, a suggestion, even a critique. Don’t defend. Don’t explain. Just say, “Thank you.” You’re not obligated to agree. But listening without resistance builds trust. The poets who grow the most are the ones who stay open.

7. Bring a Friend — But Don’t Bring a Crowd

Having one or two supportive friends is wonderful. They can cheer you on and help you feel grounded. But bringing a group of 10 people changes the energy. The slam thrives on intimacy. Large entourages can feel overwhelming. Keep it small. Keep it real.

Tools and Resources

1. The Alberta Street Pub Website and Social Media

While the slam doesn’t have a formal website, the pub maintains an active Instagram account: @albertastreetpub. Here, you’ll find weekly announcements, occasional photo highlights, and sometimes even video clips of standout performances. Follow them. Turn on notifications. They post every Wednesday afternoon with the upcoming week’s theme (if any) and reminders about the event.

2. Portland Poetry Community Facebook Group

Search for “Portland Poetry and Spoken Word.” This private group has over 3,500 members — poets, open mic hosts, workshop leaders, and fans. It’s a place to ask questions, share your work for feedback, and find out about other slams in the city. Many Alberta Street Pub regulars are active here. Don’t post your poem to ask for a score — ask for feedback. The community is generous, but not performative.

3. Local Libraries and Writing Workshops

The Multnomah County Library system offers free poetry workshops every month. The Alberta branch, just two blocks from the pub, hosts a “Poetry in the Park” series on Sundays. These are excellent places to refine your work in a low-pressure environment. Instructors are often former slam poets who know the scene inside and out.

4. Recommended Books for Aspiring Slam Poets

Read these to understand the form, tone, and emotional architecture of slam poetry:

• “The Spoken Word Revolution” by Mark Eleveld — A comprehensive look at slam’s origins and evolution.
• “How to Be a Poet” by Wendell Berry — A quiet, profound guide to authenticity in writing.
• “The Art of the Spoken Word” by Patricia Smith — From a four-time National Poetry Slam champion, this book dissects rhythm, breath, and performance.
• “Citizen: An American Lyric” by Claudia Rankine — Not a slam poem, but essential reading on how language carries trauma and resistance.

5. Audio Resources

Listen to these recordings to train your ear:

• “The Brown Noise” podcast — Features Portland poets and interviews with slam veterans.
• “Def Poetry Jam” (HBO Archive) — Classic performances from the early 2000s that shaped modern slam.
• “Button Poetry” YouTube Channel — Search for “Portland” to find local performers who’ve gained national attention.

6. Journaling for Inspiration

Keep a small notebook with you at all times. Write down overheard conversations, dreams, smells, moments of silence. Slam poetry thrives on specificity. Instead of “I was sad,” write: “I cried in the grocery store because the man in front of me bought the same brand of cereal my mother used to buy — and he didn’t even know why.” That’s the detail that sticks.

Real Examples

Example 1: “The Last Text” — By Maya R. (2022 Winner)

Maya, a 24-year-old barista, signed up on a whim after a breakup. Her poem, “The Last Text,” was 2 minutes and 52 seconds of silence, hesitation, and raw honesty. She didn’t mention her ex’s name. She didn’t blame him. She described the way the blue light from her phone glowed on her ceiling at 3 a.m., how she kept rereading his last message — “I’m fine” — and how she knew it was a lie because he’d always spelled “fine” with an extra “e” when he was lying.

The room was silent for 12 seconds after she finished. Then, a single person stood up. Then another. By the end, the entire audience was on their feet. She scored 29.7 — the highest of the year. But what mattered more was that three people approached her afterward and said, “That was my text too.”

Example 2: “The Grocery Store” — By James T. (First-Time Performer, 2023)

James, a 68-year-old retired teacher, had never read poetry in public. He came because his granddaughter said, “You should tell your story.” He wrote about the first time he bought groceries after his wife died. He couldn’t find the bread she liked. He stood in the aisle for 20 minutes. He didn’t cry. He just whispered, “I’m sorry, I forgot.”

He scored 22.3 — not high. But the host hugged him. The barista brought him a free coffee. A woman in the front row wrote him a letter and mailed it to his home. He returned the next week — not to perform, but to listen. He now sits in the same seat every Thursday. He says it’s the only place he feels her still.

Example 3: “I’m Not a Poet” — By Dev (Non-Binary Student, 2024)

Dev, a college sophomore, wrote a poem titled “I’m Not a Poet” — a self-deprecating piece about feeling unworthy of the stage. But halfway through, they shifted tone: “But I’m here. And I’m breathing. And I’m saying this out loud. So maybe I am.” The poem ended with them asking the audience: “Who here has ever felt like they didn’t belong?” Every hand in the room went up.

They scored 25.1. But the real win? The next day, they received 17 DMs from strangers saying, “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

FAQs

Do I need to have published poetry to join?

No. Absolutely not. The Alberta Street Pub Slam was founded on the belief that poetry belongs to everyone — not just those with degrees, publications, or accolades. Many of the most memorable performances come from people who’ve never written a poem before.

Can I perform a song or rap instead of poetry?

Slam poetry is strictly spoken word. Music, instruments, and beats are not allowed. If you want to perform music, check out the open mic nights at the Doug Fir Lounge or Mississippi Studios. But for Alberta Street Pub, it’s words — nothing more.

Is there an age limit?

No. Minors are welcome with parental consent. The youngest performer on record was 11 years old. The oldest was 82. Age is irrelevant. Presence is everything.

Can I perform the same poem twice?

Technically, yes — but it’s discouraged. The community values new work. If you’ve performed a poem before, wait at least three months before bringing it back. And if you do, change something — a line, a rhythm, a pause — so it feels fresh.

What if I’m too nervous to go on stage?

You’re not alone. Everyone is nervous. The first time I performed, I forgot my entire poem and just stood there for 30 seconds. I didn’t score well. But I got a hug from the host. And I came back. And the next week, I remembered every word. Nervousness isn’t a barrier — it’s proof you care.

Do I have to pay to perform?

No. There is no fee to sign up or perform. The pub asks for a $5–$10 suggested donation at the door, which goes toward the venue, the host, and occasional guest poets. But no one is turned away for lack of funds.

Can I bring my own poetry book to sell?

Not during the slam. But after the event, if you’re a regular, you can ask the host if you can leave a stack of chapbooks on the bookshelf near the entrance. Many local poets do this. It’s a quiet, organic way to share your work.

What if I don’t like the judges’ scores?

Scoring is subjective by design. One judge might love rhythm; another might value vulnerability. There’s no right or wrong. Don’t argue with the judges. Don’t complain. If you feel the scoring was unfair, write a better poem next week. That’s the only response that matters.

Conclusion

Joining the poetry slam at Alberta Street Pub isn’t about winning. It’s not about scoring high or getting noticed. It’s about showing up — trembling, uncertain, hopeful — and saying something true in a world that often asks us to stay quiet.

This is not a performance. It’s a conversation. One poem at a time, in a dimly lit pub in Portland, people are remembering what it means to be human. To grieve. To laugh. To love. To be afraid. To be brave.

If you’ve read this far, you’re already on the path. You don’t need permission. You don’t need to be perfect. You don’t need to know all the rules. You just need to show up.

Go to Alberta Street Pub on a Thursday night. Arrive early. Sign your name. Breathe. Walk to the mic. Speak your truth.

The stage is waiting.