Thursday, November 10, 2011

Poetry slams + poetry


I can't believe I haven't blogged this yet. I know the blog is called "Noveljutsu", but it's a writing blog, so I will post about poetry in here.

Thanks to Ali Jacs (Alina Siegfried - Wellington poetry slam regional champion, and New Zealand national finalist going to Melbourne to represent New Zealand next year), I went to my first poetry presentation on August 24th, 2011. Since then, my brain has been hooked on poetry. Weird, since I'd managed to spend decades thinking it was mostly boring. I was clearly wrong!

Because of her suggestion and then the encouragement of friends, I presented original poetry (recently written - I didn't have any laying around) to a group of strangers on two separate occasions.

Poetry slam, Wellington Heat #1, where I presented this:


The first time I saw her
I checked my mouth for spittle
I raised my eyebrows and
shook my head a little
A look I reserve only
for the very prettiest girls
I think she's out of my league
I wouldn't know what to do with her
Even if I had her
She is smouldering, hot and stylish
Her curves are machined - perfect
She’s electric, bright, beautiful
I know it's just evolution talking
Biological urges - nothing more
But then, I reason to myself,
Surely billions of years of evolution can't be wrong?
Maybe the urge is there for a reason?
So... despite my doubts
I ask around from a few people who know her
The message is - she's yours if you have the cash
"She's not really like that surely?" I ask
"They're all like that mate.", says a callous friend
It's not right, but instead of running away
I pinch my pennies to eventually impress her
Sure enough, when it's all in hand,
I slap my card down on the counter
The amount I quote gets her attention
I walk out with her a few minutes later
I know it can't last, but for now
I hug her close and whisper
"I love you... Macbook pro."

In the regional final, I presented this:

The poem is told from the position of a soldier on the losing side of a battle in the early days of cannon warefare. It's called:

The Soldier

He stands tall with his brothers
Soldiers, uniform and ramrod straight
All in neat rows to his sides
His enemies gather, causal, dismissive
Taking aim, taking aim
The assault comes, a cannon ball
Sweeping and scattering his brothers into the air
Battered, tumbled, humbled, wounded
Any left standing are targeted again
If they all fall, it's to thunderous applause
By their enemies, who take joy in the carnage
It's just a bit of fun to them
His wounded pride, his wounded brothers

Now, a little lighter. This second poem is about a bowling pin, sitting at the end of the bowling alley, awaiting his fate. It's called:

The Soldier

He stands tall with his brothers
Soldiers, uniform and ramrod straight
All in neat rows to his sides
His enemies gather, causal, dismissive
Taking aim, taking aim
The assault comes, a cannon ball
Sweeping and scattering his brothers into the air
Battered, tumbled, humbled, wounded
Any left standing are targeted again
If they all fall, it's to thunderous applause
By their enemies, who take joy in the carnage
It's just a bit of fun to them
His wounded pride, his wounded brothers


On the suggestion of one of the Wellington top presenters, I have since re-written this point into a single poem with two stanzas and the introductions are also merged into the poem. The overall poem is still called "The Soldier".

And I am now writing more poems pretty much all the time - a phrase here or there sends me down cool or interesting ways to say things, hopefully eventually making their way into a poem. I have a lot of partially done ones that I want to finish, but it's harder than writing prose and sometimes, you have to sleep on them for a week or more.

Not sure if this is a life-long passion, but it's currently the most interesting thing I'm doing. I will continue for as long as possible!


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