Rivals slam...

Holly through the final of a National poetry competition, from five thousand to final fifteen as it turned out. She did really well. As they said the standard of those teenage poets was so very high. She didn’t win, but the attention from the audience was stunning as she spoke her poem - softly yet harsh and simply. The winner was the last to perform and from the moment she started rapping and dancing the whole room seemed to know that the game was up. Yes, she was good – but Holly was better. Well, I would say that, but I'll ask her if I can post it.

Meantime and anyway between the poetry I thought. Poetry’s like that; it makes you think. Here are my thoughts brought into line by what I was listening to.

Slamin stylee… one

Bringing sugar, laughter, loss, and hope
From all over to Peterborough the poets came
Wording rhyme and reason, rap and punch,
So caught up in that hurricane,
They really were a diverse bunch.
And all of this was after lunch - you understand.
From everywhere, everwhat, it seemed,
All kinds of kids with different thoughts
Reading, speaking, pulling out of air
Dressed in hats and skirts and jeans and shorts.
The words flew scattering everywhere.
Whilst the Harley bikers drank downstair – you understand.

Slamin stylee… two

It was hard to sit still, so hard to sit still, sittin still was an ill like no ill, it can’t be helped by no little pill. And when I say ill I mean sick. Sick like a night out, bein chased by the Bill, taking that upliftin pill, looking for somebody to fill, somebody to kill. Yeah sick, sick in the head. Right? We all knows them kinda nights, where there ain’t no lights, an the darkness bites, when your sight ain’t right. Still… I - ain’t - sittin – still… Still, what else is to do around here?

Slamin stylee… three

She stood like a flame,
Bright and bold and beautiful,
Spitting her words to the world
Like a word machine gun.
Rat-a-tat-tat
Did I get you?
I think I did.
Roll-over and die, play dead.
Stop living.
Don’t breathe.
Shuffle off that mortal coil thing.
Laugh aloud
And then be dead.
Rat-a-tat-tat
Did I get you?
Yes, I thought I did.