Poetry Live Slam!

After climbing Mount Rangitoto, I was sunburnt and exhausted. But also inspired.

I had just enough time to hop on a bus and get home, take a quick shower, scarf down dinner and return to the downtown district. When I arrived, I was greeted by Christian, his girlfriend Emily and Renee, all of whom gave me big hugs and smiles. I love poets.

I signed up on the slam list with some hesitation. Although I had been exposed to some spoken word two days prior to the slam, I knew very well there was a difference between “spoken word” and “slam”. Although the spoken word poets were political and articulate, I didn’t know what to expect from the slam poets. They could’ve been political and articulate too, or brash and drunk, or academic and boring. I was pleasantly placated when, poet after poet, took the stage with incredible confidence and stature. It was great for the documentary… very not great for my nerves, for these people I was admiring were also my competition (in the very silly non-competative aspect of a poetry slam). How would I measure up? Would they be able to understand my accent? Would they think my poetry style was weird (because although they were all quite talented, I still felt like my style stood out a bit… It could’ve just been paranoia though). I’ve gotten used to the hushed silence the audience gives after my name is announced at a poetry slam, the shuffling and craning of necks to see “who is this new person, and why haven’t we seen her before?” It used to unnerve me. But I’ve grown kind of fond of it. And it seemed like Auckland grew fond of me as well, because as the night wore on, with each round the polite applause after my name grew louder and louder. It was a good feeling, knowing I could connect with complete strangers.

One thing that I found quite distinguishing about the poetry slam in Auckland was the sheer diversity of the poets and the crowd, as well as the poetry itself. I hate to compare poetry scenes, but I really did feel a bit like I was in new york- the poets ranged in ages from 22 (I was no doubt the youngest), to late 50’s. Different ethnicities, different genders, different nationalities, topics and styles filled the room with their words. I loved every moment of it. Yes, there was some bad poetry. But the bad poetry is equally valid and almost more valuable, in my opinion, because it inspires the audience members to write. A friend I was sitting with (it was his first exposure to spoken word) talked to me about it during the ride home. I could see the gears turning in his mind, the very familiar thoughts of “I could do that” or “I could beat those guys” that always hits people, even just for a brief moment, during a poetry slam. I encouraged him to start writing poetry. That’s how all slam poets got started: they went to a slam, wrote a poem, went to the next slam and just put it out there.

So the night ended well. My friend was inspired (and apparently so were the boys at the table behind us. One of them recited a poem he had written on a napkin to my camera during one of the breaks). Poetry slam had done it’s job, and done it well. And as for me, I had the pleasure of competing one on one with a very talented poet from Auckland. As the last round is audience vote, I was surprised to find the majority voted for me. But as always with a slam, who won didn’t really make that much of a difference in the relationships between us poets, and he and I had a great interview afterwards.

I won 15 bucks. Which I promptly spent on food.

But it was my first win, and I was happy to see the balance in my life beginning to return. I love auckland poetry, and auckland poetry loves me.

I perform again next Tuesday, as a feature poet for Poetry Live. It’s my first time featuring. I’ve come a long way from that shy camera girl in Canada who wouldn’t call herself a poet, let alone compete in a slam.