Last weekend, Friday 6th October 2023, to be precise, I took part in my first ever Poetry Slam (without really knowing what a poetry slam was!!) . Why did I do that ? Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. When I applied to take part, I was riding high on adrenaline, in anticipation of starting my first week at Derby University to study for an MA in Creative Writing. Just to put that into context for a minute… I have been away from ‘mainstream’ study for literally the lifetime of many of my course cohort. When I applied to take part in the slam, I really didn’t think I would be selected to take part, assuming that only people ‘known’ in the poetry world with some sort of track record, would be selected. So no-one was more surprised (read stunned) when I was in fact invited to take part.
Taking part was a nerve racking new experience which I feel privileged to have been a part of. There were 12 of us ‘slammers’ taking part and there was a good mix of ‘first timers’ like myself and much more experienced writers/poets and performers. I really enjoy spoken word poetry and all of the poems and performances were amazing! I highly recommend attending a poetry slam, if you get the opportunity, even if just to listen, there really is something about an intimate, live performance experience that is hard to replicate. Whether I repeat the experience remains to be seen !
A couple of friends have indicated a ‘no pressure’ curiosity about the two poems I shared, so I decided to share them on here for anyone who might be equally curious.
I hope you enjoy them !
There is an opportunity to leave comments below, which I invite you to do (think kind & constructive thoughts )
Stones
When all you desire s to disappear
How is it that we arrive here
With no-one strong enough
To bear the weight, of this
Our Fragile mental state
A pocket full of stones by the waters edge
To walk the shore line seeking more
A meticulous project
Seeking each one out it turn
Which was the first
Cold, hard and smooth to the touch
Each caressed in turn
Added to the hoard
A dull thud as they meet each other
inside the confines of the pocket
How deep are these pockets, no one knows
How much space inside
What their capacity
When and how was the decision made
That, this, would be the last
That this, was enough
Was there a number in mind
Or was the weight sufficient to the task
Were the pockets full
No more room, no more space, inside
For the weight of more stones
Pockets are so useful
You have to wonder why
They have been gradually eroded from the female wardrobe
Maybe, so that she may not carry the weight
Of too many stones
As to make her a hazard to herself, by the waters edge
No room to accommodate
Weapons of war against herself
No more room
Full
No more space
To breathe
No means to carry
More weight
With pockets full of stones
The Forgetting
She was everywhere
Like the air we breathe, unseen
She was nowhere,
A ghost, hung suspended in time
She lived in the space
Between
Not quite there
Here in this moment
An echo
No-one really knew
If she was there or not there
Yet, a sense, a belief, even
Call it faith
In what
They really did not know
Could not put a name to
Or hold on to, still, knew
Best not to ignore or forget
Easy
Big days and high days
Holidays, celebrations, a remembrance even
Yes
Harder, each moment of every day
When
Like every breath, vital
Carelessly, they let her slip away
Unseen
They let her go
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