Two stained glass windows glow green and gold behind the platform stage at the Boheme Bistro, 2900 West St. A lone microphone stands in the center of the dark stage as dry-erase boards are handed out to audience members-turned-judges.

Subjects of 10 modern and eclectic art pieces, looking out to the crowd from their frames on the side and back wall, wait for the show to start. Filtering through overhead speakers, the strains of Radiohead’s “Hail to the Thief” fade, then stop as “slam mistress” Molly Rose steps onto the stage and yells, “Let’s get started!”

Rose shows off her outfit — pink shirt with “Je T’aime” written in black sparkles, black and pink striped skirt, black fishnets and black heels — donated by Liza Kindred, owner of *Zushy, 2406 Lincoln Way. She apologizes for the show starting 25 minutes late.

“We’re on poets’ time,” Rose says, adjusting her black-framed glasses.

Rose, graduate student in English, announces that Thadra Sheridan, a spoken word poet from the Twin Cities, will be tonight’s feature poet.

Sheridan says her poetry is mostly autobiographical, taken from her experiences and her perspective on the world.

“I ignore literary rules,” Sheridan says. “The point is not how many pretty metaphors are in it, the point is people hearing what I’m trying to say.”

Sheridan has been part of the last three Minnesota slam teams, teaches at Twin Cities youth centers and “very occasionally” waits tables.

“Art never quite pays off,” she says, laughing as she ashes her cigarette. “The thing about being a successful performance poet is about being true, being honest. The key to poetry is honesty.”

Jim Coppoc, graduate student in English, says a poetry slam is different from a poetry reading in that a slam is more of a competition.

“A slam has rules: there’s the gimmick of competition,” Coppoc says. “There are tricks you can do to get more points.

“Some people who slam for a long time get into a habit of doing only those tricks, but others don’t. Some people are able to keep being original and creative and just awesome.”

Coppoc has competed in poetry slams for about a year and says he will always want to offer up his poetry to an audience.

“Philosophically, I think poetry should be performed out loud,” he says. “The sound comes alive when you read it out loud … I like the idea of the audience being able to use performance to bring people to poetry who wouldn’t have come to it before.”

Rose says a slam is a kind of battle, and could be compared to the types of rap battles seen in the film “8 Mile.”

“[Although it’s not completely like “8 Mile”] in that it’s not extemporaneous, and it’s prepared work, it has the same, strong energy,” she says. “It’s redefining poetry and bringing it to the masses so students don’t have to think all poetry is Keats and Donne. There’s a lot of swearing and sex, although, hopefully, it will grow away from being just that.”

“Poetry has gotten too academic,” says Sheryl St. Germain, director of English. “Slams promote a certain kind of poetry — loud poetry.”

Seven poets are signed up to slam tonight, and Rose reminds the audience they cannot boo the poets, but they can boo the judges when they think a judge has given an unfair score. The judges score each poet on a scale from one to 10, with 10 being the highest.

After a series of high scores, the last judge gives Coppoc a score of 4.0, to which the audience boos and Rose shouts, “Four-point-oh from the Russian judge in the back!”

The Ames slam was started in March by Laura Vasser, graduate student in English.

Vasser, known as the original Ames slam mistress, says she had been to slams in Des Moines and knew the very same thing could thrive in Ames.

“It’s all about energy from the crowd. This is a show — we aren’t taking ourselves seriously,” she says, stopping to shout, “6.0? — corner group, you suck!”

Laura says she has only written three poems in her life and prefers to be more of a critic than a producer.

Mike Faris, an ISU graduate in English education and now an eighth-grade English teacher, came back to Ames tonight to slam.

“I like to hear what other people have written,” Faris says. “I like to share what I wrote as well, and be in a community of writers.”

Poets who share what they write are taking a bold step, says Neal Bowers, distinguished professor of English.

“It’s kind of frightening sometimes. It’s about the poet making him or herself vulnerable by offering it up,” Bowers says.

Slams are for everyone and make poetry easier to approach, St. Germain says.

“Slams take it out of the classroom and make it accessible,” she says. “It speaks to the everyday experience.”