Real and wry - Amy Baker's Poetry Rings True.

The strikingly talented Amy Baker graced our open mic as October's Guest Poet. Reading from her debut collection of poetry, 'Love Machine' (both written and illustrated by Amy) she took us through the maze that is learning to love - others and herself - but with humour and insight that was at once captivating and and as if she'd got her ideas from your diary. Exploring the 'programming' that women have in the pursuit of love, her collection takes us through the astounding and oh too familiar situations that a modern woman finds herself in. 'Your hot little bot, here to make you feel brand new'. From face cream to bread, the relatable underbelly of womanhood is as endearing as it is hilarious.

We sympathise wholeheartedly with the Love Machine's endeavours and celebrate her self reflection 'When did I become this ravishing? I thought it'd be more gruelling.' and her keen observations and navigations of modern womanhood. 'I'm on my way to meet my latest squeeze [...] klaxons sounding their moans and beeps.'

We were entertained and gripped by Amy's flawless delivery with her rhythmic and tonally familiar inflections keeping us on the edge of our seats as if a good friend was confiding their experience to us directly.

Without doubt, a collection of poems embracing a feminine perspective that every woman should have on hand and in her mind - along with the mantra, 'It's not just you.'

The evening had a plethora of other shining jewels in our open mic-ers: Amanda read her NPD entry 'In Flanders Fields' and told of her 'sun palace' self constructed in her garden. Denis, a newcomer to Poetry Cafe, turned a little darker with his 'Contract Killing' - a tale of evicting bees. David 'settled the bar bill for once' in his poem 'Clean Slate', Jazzy with his reliable energy and conviction told us that 'The can'ts are out to get me.' and recited a poem of 'passion and lust'. Keith Willson had us fearful with his poems 'consider the catch up man' and 'Vanity, thy name is implant'. Di Hills continued the nearly Halloween feeling with a poem about Dame Garson, a witch with the capacity to shapeshift into a hare 'the cottage of men's bones' . She also gave us 'Dating Agency' featuring the 'Adonis of Bumble' . Nicki gave us a spattering of limericks inspired by her trip to the Fringe at Edinburgh and also gave us the comic vision of her walking out with 'Rollers in my hair, people began to stare'

Mr John's challenge this month was a tricky prompt of: 'Plenty of Scope for a little Hope and a Little Piece of Peace.

Second half was just as glittering with Sylvie told of her mother who at 93 hadn't taken even so much as an asprin. She'd noticed the way women treat their older mothers, 'the meanness emanating from them.' Adam, another first time open mic-er at the Poetry Cafe, told us of the 'verbal boxing match' of a breakup that was 'propaganda of the heart'. He also told of 'those moments that lasted for ever' remembering moments with a now lost father. Peter W got us all nostalgic, reading poems of Autumn 'The Language of Trees' had 'the gathering wind chances and dances' Zara's poetry struck a chord of determination with 'I'm done waiting, Done with fear' and a poem on how the modern artificial life of plastic and screens has eroded if not eliminated our own natural 'Instinct'. Steven another newcomer to the Poetry Cafe, remarked how his comfortable life in Tunbridge Wells barred him from the more gritty genres of city living Manchester that John Cooper Clarke embodies, so 'Don't mention Lidl if your class is middle' and had us pondering what it's be like if Evry delivered babies! Christine also took us on a flight of fancy - or at least a stroll - with the Long Man of Wilmington taking a trip back to her house for a spell. Charles howled a supernatural poem of a 'She Wolf' 'although her face had changed , her eyes were just the same [...] torn between sweet flesh and the tide.' JJ gave us a taster of his marvellously eloquent and erudite dog named 'Barkolemew'. JC had us looking into the fire's flames 'a breach of tender curls , a cascading heart' and a short poem of 'Tickling'.

Mike L finished the evening with with a poem about a friend who was run down 'to lose a game of chicken with a bike.' Mike then completed the evening with his song transformation of Fiddler on the Roof into a commentary of the sad state of our current government, lamenting, 'We had it all with Harold Wilson'

I think we can safely say that poetry is thriving in Eastbourne at the moment - join us to keep the momentum going - next month on the 11th, we have the wonderful Seamus Fox.