My Slam Poem

Hi all, after hearing Safwan’s great slam poem about life and death a couple of weeks ago, I thought I’d share my slam poem from when I was in year nine. Hope you enjoy!

we are always asking questions in our life, about our life, how to fix our strife, what we perceive as rife

some questions we see as significant like, does God exist?

others we see as insignificant, like whose cruel idea was it to put an ‘s’ in lisp?

well we ask these questions and sometimes we get answers, other times we get the same responses as how do we cure cancer?

well let me tell you something- while you’re brooding upon these puzzles in contemplation,

half of our Earth’s population is wondering something else

they are wondering, ‘am I going to get dinner tonight?’, ‘or will I starve for a fourth day in a row?’

in this world we live in, everyone is equal

and that is not my opinionated opinion that is a factual fact and that is that

whether you’re a man, woman, white, black, Asian, African, Muslim or Christian, when we are born, we are born the same.

no one of us is superior over a kid living in poverty on the other side of the world, without an education, without food, without shelter.

we are as equal to them as 10 millimetres and 1 centimetre are equal to each other.

so when we get to eat meals every single day and go home to a roof over our head

and be at ease and without a second thought eat our sandwich filled with ham and cheese

do we ever? and I ask you this- do we ever take a moment to stop and say thank you?

do we ever think about people who aren’t as privileged as us and be grateful that we live a happy life?

or do we just convince ourselves that it’s out of our control?

if all people are equal, then why do they suffer like a snipe stuffed in a snuffbox?

they don’t deserve what they are going through

and to be honest, we don’t deserve what we are going through

we deserve worse

and they deserve better

what’s the first thing we like to do when we get into class?

we get on our iPads and check our FaceBook status or how many like we got on that photo on Instagram

no-one thinks about what they have

we like to think about what we don’t have though

those new pair of shoes, that level we’re trying to get through on our game, that piece of food we hate that has the audacity to sit there on our plate

and so when we don’t have something, we become envious. we judge people when they show off those new pair of shoes, or that level they’ve finally gotten through, or a meal with them eating that food we so diligently detest

we accumulate jealousy from all the people we want to be and trap that jealousy inside a jar and hope that those things can somehow come to us.

we never want to appreciate what we have in life

the moment you finish a PE class and run for the water tap and quench what you thing is an unmanageable thirst

some people don’t get a PE class, others don’t get water

it’s difficult to think about that when we spray that water on our friends just for fun

so please

the next time you decide to stare stupidly at your smartphone whilst trying to avoid a conversation- and I do it too

think about where it came from and

please do the person you’re talking to a favour

please do the world a favour

and please do yourself a favour

and say thank you.

 

Poems about the ordinary

After watching Jim Jarmusch’s amazing film Paterson, where the main character writes poems about the ordinary and mundane, I was inspired to have a go at writing my own. Enjoy!

Train
Monday morning
Another week
I’m at the edge of the platform
The tracks dull and still and suddenly
A rumble
A clatter
The rails creak as headlights flood the station
An iron behemoth charges into the station
Full of power
Full of anger
Brakes grind and the beast has stopped
The great behemoth tamed by us
Humans

Road
The road stretches miles and miles
The road erupts like a hose following the bumps and dips of the land
The land which is a garden that blooms and decays
The water splashes and winds until it collides with another stream and then
The hose stops and what has been sprayed is what we walk on.
Sometimes the road is straight
And you know that the gardener had a steady hand
I cross the stream, careful not to get my feet weT

Powerlines
Powerlines strung up between poles
Sagging under the weight of a bird
Or a pair of sneakers
Sometimes when I’m in a car, I watch the powerlines from the window
Sometimes they cross
Sometimes they never cross
Will they?
Won’t they?
But they’re just powerlines. Does it really matter?
I like to think they have something to say about relationships and love

 

Bernard Tso 10H

Who Am I? – A Slam Poem By Declan Saunders

As A Year 9 student, we were asked to write slam poems. This is my first venture into that field.

enjoy.

 

Who am I?

I am the pile of work that greets you when you walk through the door. Even though you wrestle with me every day, I never seem to lessen. You’re close to breaking point, and we both know that when you reach it, you’ll never be able to put yourself back together.

Who am I?

I am the hours you spend forging the perfect text for the perfect girl, the girl who might vbe the one you marry some day. I’m the overwhelming silence after the text is sent, you holding your breath like you’re in water.

And I’m the mocking laughs that echo in your ears the next day after she sent your message to her friends, who sent it to their friends who sent it to their friends and over and over again until everyone at school knows. And when you look at her again?

I’m the barely concealed contempt that’s plastered across her face.

Who am I?

I am the anger, the sadness, the guilt, the rage, the shame that fills you when you get back that test.

You know the one.

The one you spent forever revising for, the one that was the difference between success and failure, the one you wasted every last wish on. The only one that mattered to your parents. To your family. To you. But in the end, it wasn’t even good enough to keep.

I’m that feeling that creeps up on you when you lay in bed. The feeling that you’re falling, sinking lower and lower, drowning in an all-consuming darkness, the feeling that you will never again dance in the sun, or hold someone close in a quiet room, the only sound the beat of your hearts.

I’m the scars that you hide under fake laughs and fake smiles, the scars that no one else can see. I adorn you, decorate you like pines on a Christmas tree. I scorch like fire and burn like ice. You strive to hide me from the public eye, your shame like a fountain ready to burst at any moment.

Who am I?

I’m the one who’s never letting go.

 

Death’s Grasp (Slam Poem)

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(Photo: Mat Collishaw , Burning Flowers , ca. 2010-2013)

 

Humans,

We are volatile temporary beings,

We are not immortal,

We are not omnipotent,

We come to this earth with a purpose,

A purpose to live, to love,

But the grasp of death is never far,

And that’s what makes us who we are,

 

We fear death,

For existence is all we have known,

Though life we take our initial breath,

But with every breath we step closer to death,

And as we approach death,

We lose all of our breath,

And collapse into a respite,

Which we may never wake from,

 

Our life is a sweet summer marigold,

Its buds bloom into a series of colourful petals during the summer,

Its beauty vivid and enchanting,

But evanescent in the end.

As the cold of the winter approaches,

That flower loses its petals,

And like us, collapses into a deep slumber,

Which it may never wake from,

 

Death deprives us of our loved ones,

It leaves us in solitude,

It reaps the souls of our sons,

And leaves us subdued.

We preserve ourselves,

We try to distance ourselves from the inexorable,

But the knowledge of our eventual demise,

Lingers deep down inside of our minds,

 

You may say that you wish to live forever,

That you wish to die never,

But our eventual passing is what gives our life it’s merit,

The looming presence of death is what motivates us to get out of bed each morning,

Because we may not always have a tomorrow,

The looming presence of death is what lets us perceive the true beauty of our lives,                                           

The looming presence of death is what gives our life its momentum,

It is not the vindictive venom we make it out to be,

Can’t you see? 

Death is what coerces us to be alive, 

We may blame death for our sorrows,

But rather, we should thank it for the happiness that it gives to our lives,

 

So ask yourselves again,

Do you want to live forever?

Do you want to live an endless reality of immortality?

Do you want to live a life with no motivation,

a life with no purpose,

a life where you can always adjourn your dreams for tomorrow?

Because I don’t,

I want to live a complete life,

A life where I can say that I have truly lived,

Because when I die,

I want to be satisfied with the life I have lived on this Earth,

 

Humans,

We are not immortal,

We are not omnipotent,

We come to this Earth with a purpose,

A purpose to live, to love,

But the grasp of death is never far,

And that’s what makes us who we are,

Beautiful new words to describe obscure emotions – TED talk by John Koenig

John Koenig writes The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows. 

Here are some of the words he’s created to express certain emotions:

Morii: the desire to capture a fleeting experience

Zenosyne: The sense that time keeps going faster

Let’s think about complex emotions that don’t have words to express them, and then create words for these emotions.

Here are some emotions identified by John Koenig:

  • a glimpse of what may have been
  • the moment a conversation becomes real and alive
  • feature of modern society that suddenly strikes you as absurd and grotesque
  • the frustration of being stuck in just one body, that inhabits only one place at a time
  • the tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it
  • the awareness of how little of the world you’ll experience
  • the desire that memory could flow backward
  • the fear that everything has already been done
  • Sometimes it feels like your life is flashing before your eyes, but it’s actually the opposite: you’re thinking forward, to all the things you haven’t done, the places you intend to visit, the goals you’ll get around to…
  • the awareness of the smallness of your perspective
  • a kind of melancholic trance in which you become absorbed in vivid sensory details
  • the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable
  • the realisation that the plot of your life doesn’t make sense any more
  • the desire to care less about things—to loosen your grip on your life, to stop glancing behind you every few steps, afraid that someone will snatch it from you before you reach the end zone

During our meeting we had a go at creating our own words for different emotions.

Declan Saunders:

  • Aralia: The imprint of a forgotten memory
  • Burrin: The comfort of being alone
  • Droldent: Being cold on the inside even though you are warm on the outside (when you step inside from the cold)

Jenzen Yau, Haotian Yang, Julien Finti:

  • Jeon: Post holiday depression

David Ly:

Fain : The awareness of how little of the world you will experience

Alex Cheriyan and Bernard Tso:

  • Jekus – The feeling of trying to convey a meaning or feeling that does not have a word
  • Valare – The desire to step out of your life for a period of time and have somebody else take over
  • Falatious – The feeling of thinking that nothing you do will have much of an impact in this world
  • Nillatts – The feeling that you think you will die with no one loving you

Edward Jin:

  • Nilia: A state of intense concentration, where you are aware of nothing except for the task at hand

Thanks everyone, for giving this a go. Looks like you enjoyed the challenge – and the doughnuts.

 

The Official blog for Melbourne High Writing Interest Group (WIG)

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