Slam Poetry is a term that many people have heard, but maybe do not understand. It is not the same as regular poetry in that it may sound a lot more like a speech than a poem. Slam poetry may be based on a number of different topics and usually resembles free verse poetry, but may also have a rhyme scheme. The most widely known slam poet is probably Shane Koyczan, a poet from Penticton, B.C. who performed at the 2010 Winter Olympics. Another poet who may not be as famous as Koyczan but equally as talented is Suli Breaks, a slam poet from the U.K. Breaks is best known for his slam poem "I Will Not Let An Exam Result Decide My Fate". Katie Makkai, a medical death examiner from Denver, Colorado, wrote an inspiring poem about the concept of the word "pretty".
Shane Koyczan's poem, "To This Day", is featured around the notion of bullying. Throughout the poem he maintains a very serious, inspiring tone as he encourages people who have been bullied in their youth to ignore the hate that people have bestowed on them and mend their self confidence. Koyczan explains that he too was bullied, but he was "not the only kid who grew up [that] way. Surrounded by people who used to say that rhyme about sticks and stones as if broken bones hurt more than the names [they] were called." He tells the tales of him and other kids he knew who were bullied in his small town, but finishes the poem telling people who have been bullied that if they "can't see anything beautiful about [themselves to] get a better mirror... because there's something inside of [them] that made [them] keep trying despite everyone who told [them] to quit."
The self-explanatory title, "I Will Not Let An Exam Result Decide My Fate", makes it quite clear that Suli Breaks intends to persuade the listener that there is something wrong with the education system. He uses stories of a few different adolescents in a rhythmic manner as he questions the methods of the school board in enforcing exams. "We all have different abilities, thought processes, experiences and genes, so why is a class full of individuals tested by the same means?", he questions the audience. He uses the poem to convince young people that they are not incompetent simply because they did not excel on a certain exam. Breaks is clearly quite confident about the matter and uses irony as well as seriousness to prove his point that one "can't let society tell [them] who [they] are".
Another aspiring slam poet, Katie Makkai, is known for performing a poem dedicated to her future daughter. She uses the poem to indicate how ridiculous it is that females strive to be pretty their entire lives when "pretty" is just a five letter word. The poem, appropriately named "Pretty", tells Makkai's story of putting herself through plastic surgery so that she could be what her and her mother always wanted: a beautiful girl. She goes on to explain that when her future daughter approaches her, "already stung-stayed with insecurity, begging, 'Mom, will I be pretty?'...[she] will... answer no" and instead tell her daughter that she will be "pretty intelligent, pretty creative, pretty amazing, but [she] will never be merely pretty". The moral of this poem is clearly to encourage girls to be less concerned with their outward appearance and more concerned with their personalities.
All three of the poems have positive messages and seem to all be targeted at young people and their insecurities. Slam poetry is a rising trend among teenagers and if they choose to listen to optimistic poems such as these, they could have a beneficial impact on their outlook on themselves and life.
Monday, December 9, 2013
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Worrisome Waiting Room
I grudgingly dragged myself into the cold, dreary hospital waiting room and sat down; I was desperate to hear about my brother. I tapped my foot on the hard linoleum floor as my mind was bombarded with thoughts of serious injury, paralysation and death. To distract myself from the traumatizing thoughts, I closely speculated my surroundings.
Suddenly I was aware of a not too distant wailing that I realized was coming from a woman who sat in the corner. A man was trying to comfort her, but it appeared she would not be consoled. She rocked back and forth on her heels, causing the aged flooring to creak.
I forced my gaze away from the morbid sight and found myself staring into the eyes of a young girl, no older than 4. She looked away shyly, whipping her hair and causing the scent of shampoo and soap to drift my way. The girl went back to playing with the dismal array of toys that were offered and I continued to scan the room for someone: a doctor, a nurse, anyone with the slightest bit of information. I noticed my mother walking down the narrow hallway towards me and ran to her. She was crying.
"What is it? Where is he? Is he alright?" I scrambled to get the words out as quickly as possible. But she just looked at me and shook her head, tears cascading down her face.
I tried to reach for the door as the taste of bile crept into my mouth, but I didn't make it. Tears and vomit escaped my body at the same moment as I leaned over the trash can and emptied what little food I had in my stomach. The acidic stench lingered in my nose and the salt of my tears mixed with the existing bile in my mouth, making for a horrid concoction. My mother came and softly caressed my shoulders as I let her take me into her warm embrace. This is where I stayed for the next hour, enveloped in my mother's sweet, vanilla scent and her strong, but shaking, arms.
A nurse came to collect us and lead us to the room that contained my brother. The hallway was off-white and smelt of rubbing alcohol and latex, but my thoughts were concentrated on the warmth of my mother's hand in mine. We came to the door and I watched the nurse reach out her hand and grab the handle that would reveal my brother. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply as the door creaked open.
Suddenly I was aware of a not too distant wailing that I realized was coming from a woman who sat in the corner. A man was trying to comfort her, but it appeared she would not be consoled. She rocked back and forth on her heels, causing the aged flooring to creak.
I forced my gaze away from the morbid sight and found myself staring into the eyes of a young girl, no older than 4. She looked away shyly, whipping her hair and causing the scent of shampoo and soap to drift my way. The girl went back to playing with the dismal array of toys that were offered and I continued to scan the room for someone: a doctor, a nurse, anyone with the slightest bit of information. I noticed my mother walking down the narrow hallway towards me and ran to her. She was crying.
"What is it? Where is he? Is he alright?" I scrambled to get the words out as quickly as possible. But she just looked at me and shook her head, tears cascading down her face.
I tried to reach for the door as the taste of bile crept into my mouth, but I didn't make it. Tears and vomit escaped my body at the same moment as I leaned over the trash can and emptied what little food I had in my stomach. The acidic stench lingered in my nose and the salt of my tears mixed with the existing bile in my mouth, making for a horrid concoction. My mother came and softly caressed my shoulders as I let her take me into her warm embrace. This is where I stayed for the next hour, enveloped in my mother's sweet, vanilla scent and her strong, but shaking, arms.
A nurse came to collect us and lead us to the room that contained my brother. The hallway was off-white and smelt of rubbing alcohol and latex, but my thoughts were concentrated on the warmth of my mother's hand in mine. We came to the door and I watched the nurse reach out her hand and grab the handle that would reveal my brother. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply as the door creaked open.
Monday, October 28, 2013
I Have a Dream
I have a dream that one day theatre will not run my life. I have a dream that I will be able to go home at three o'clock sharp with the rest of my peers instead of being stuck in the prison that is Princess Margaret for hours on end. I have a dream that I will not have to suffer the wrath of Mrs. Grant because Grease is not my top priority. That the lines of my character, Marty, will not invade my brain space, taking over my very thoughts. That I will not have to practice redundant dance moves instead of working on my math homework. That I will not have to complete yet another pointless assignment to boost up my theatre troupe average so I can achieve the coveted four credits.
I no longer wish to dedicate my every movement, every thought, every breath to a play. I do not want to memorize every line, every dance move, every note of every song. I long for the day where every costume is fitted, every wig is flattering, every inch of make-up is carefully applied. But alas it cannot be.
For my dream is unreasonable as long as the drama funds are insufficient. My dream is useless as long as the leads remain tone-deaf, uncoordinated nitwits. My dream is ludicrous as long as the play is performed in November because we are unprepared. We are exhausted. We are pressured and worst of all, we aren't even paid!
Yet we will persevere because we love the sound of applause at the end of the show. We will endure the hardships of high school theatre because we love to serenade a crowd. We will pull through because we, unlike paid actors, do it entirely for the happiness it brings us.
I know that one day it will finally be our last performance. I know that one day my friends and I will be the ones performing the grad skit at the cast party. I know that that day is November 23, 2013 and I know that it will break my heart. For all the grief it brings me, for all the endless rehearsals, lectures and arguments about who is in the wrong place, who said the wrong line, who forgot a simple dance move, theatre is the one thing I truly love; and I have a dream that I will be lucky enough to go through the trauma of being in a musical many more times.
Yet we will persevere because we love the sound of applause at the end of the show. We will endure the hardships of high school theatre because we love to serenade a crowd. We will pull through because we, unlike paid actors, do it entirely for the happiness it brings us.
I know that one day it will finally be our last performance. I know that one day my friends and I will be the ones performing the grad skit at the cast party. I know that that day is November 23, 2013 and I know that it will break my heart. For all the grief it brings me, for all the endless rehearsals, lectures and arguments about who is in the wrong place, who said the wrong line, who forgot a simple dance move, theatre is the one thing I truly love; and I have a dream that I will be lucky enough to go through the trauma of being in a musical many more times.
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
A Sticky Situation
George looked up from shoeing the horse to see the outline of Curley's wife in the doorway of the barn. They were alone.
"You seen Curley?" She drawled as she batted her eyelashes at him. "I've been looking high and low an' I can't seem to fin' him anywhere."
"I'm sure you looked real hard. Pro'ly too busy givin' e'ryone the eye."
"Now what you mean by that? I'm sure I'm as loyal as a dog." She strolled further into the room and took a seat on one of the empty bushels of hay. "Now why you always givin' me the shoulder? I ain't done you no wrong."
"No, but I'm sure ya mean to. Yer always sniffin' around here, lookin' to stir up trouble no doubt."
"Can't nobody blame a gal for talkin'. You know, there's plenty of fish in the sea, George. I don't need to talk to ya. I just thought it might be nice that's all." Suddenly, she stood and turned, looking over her shoulder at George. "I'll just leave ya to it then George." she huffed as she started towards the door.
"Ah hell, I didn't mean to push your buttons." George grumbled.
"Well it's too late for that now. Dontcha know loose lips sink ships?" With that, she fled the scene.
"Talk about a damsel in distress." George rolled his eyes and went back to business as usual.
"You seen Curley?" She drawled as she batted her eyelashes at him. "I've been looking high and low an' I can't seem to fin' him anywhere."
"I'm sure you looked real hard. Pro'ly too busy givin' e'ryone the eye."
"Now what you mean by that? I'm sure I'm as loyal as a dog." She strolled further into the room and took a seat on one of the empty bushels of hay. "Now why you always givin' me the shoulder? I ain't done you no wrong."
"No, but I'm sure ya mean to. Yer always sniffin' around here, lookin' to stir up trouble no doubt."
"Can't nobody blame a gal for talkin'. You know, there's plenty of fish in the sea, George. I don't need to talk to ya. I just thought it might be nice that's all." Suddenly, she stood and turned, looking over her shoulder at George. "I'll just leave ya to it then George." she huffed as she started towards the door.
"Ah hell, I didn't mean to push your buttons." George grumbled.
"Well it's too late for that now. Dontcha know loose lips sink ships?" With that, she fled the scene.
"Talk about a damsel in distress." George rolled his eyes and went back to business as usual.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
The Tale of a Young Artist
Growing up, Lauren always loved to sing and dance, or really get attention in any way possible. She joined Penticton School of Dance at the young age of three and that is where she really began to shine. As soon as she hit the stage for the first time, Lauren hatched out of her cocoon like a magnificent butterfly, determined to show off her wings. She became a fireball. After that, Lauren was enthralled with the arts and made it her mission to join any play, dance class or singing group that she could find. Today, Lauren is a part of her school musical, Grease, where she plays one of the female leads. She is a proud member of the Princess Margaret Secondary School graduating class of 2014 and strives to achieve a university degree in Humanities and teach Social Studies or follow in her mother's footsteps in becoming an elementary school teacher one day. She takes great pride in her acting ability, vocal talent and academic prowess and hopes that one day they will lead her to a career that makes her happy.
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