Bronx’s Poetry Fair Rhymes in Pelham Bay

Pelham Bay versed last night with the Bronx’s Poetry Fair, weaving NYC’s spring at a park lot. Poet Jay Patel read ballads as 300 snapped, a $10 ticket fest of stanzas. It’s borough lines—pure BX vibe, pens hot. A kid choked a verse; a pro burned a haiku. ‘Bronx sings—this is it,’ Patel says, passing mics. The stalls turned slam.

The fair’s fresh—March 25’s start, it tripled since RSVPs, packing rows by 6 p.m. Patel’s a Soundview bard; last night’s crowd hit max—claps rang. A latecomer nabbed a spot; beats dropped—NYC grit glowed. Runs one day—verse ruled. #BronxPoetryFair trended; Queens wants a rhyme.

Some griped—’Too raw,’ sniped a shybie, dodging shares. Wind flicked—tents held; flow held. A rival’s pitching a Mott Haven rhyme, splitting lines. Still, 400 stayed—words reigned. Pelham Bay’s never rhymed so bold.

Patel’s teasing a monthly run, maybe a park if spring bites. ‘NYC’s soul—this lifts it,’ he says, packing pages. The fair’s a Bronx win—grit meets grace. It’s a poetry rush; catch the next. Bring a pen—stanzas call.