BY PAUL BOWERS
INK
contributor
At
one end of the Summerville High School cafeteria stood a lone microphone stand.
Festively colored decorations covered the tables, and music played softly as
students trickled in through the doors. Soon the room would be filled with the
sounds of heartfelt poetry.
On March 4,
many teenagers chose to spend their Friday night at the Roc da Mic Poetry Slam,
a showcase for young poets attending Summerville High School. For a price of $5
at the door or $3 in advance, they got the opportunity to experience the rhymes
and styles of a dozen student artists.
Being a
writer, I figured it couldn't hurt to enter the contest, so I scribbled down a
few lines and showed up for an audition. After Ebony Summers-Fogle, the teacher
who headed up the event, approved of my poem, I rehearsed a few times in front
of my friends to work out the rhythm. By Friday, I was pumped and ready to
perform.
Eleven other
students signed up to go on stage, which was a decent turnout considering that
many students hate to read, much less to write. Summers-Fogle pointed out that,
while athletes show their skills on the field and musicians strut their stuff
in the marching band, the poets of Summerville High rarely get a moment in the
spotlight. So, in an attempt at cultural enrichment, she and the Umoja Club,
which she sponsors, set up the event.
The Umoja Club
is a service group that evolved out of the African-American Studies Club. Its
name comes from the Swahili word for "unity," which is a major tenet
of Kwanzaa.
When the music
died down and the crowd hushed, teacher Jade Howard, who helped organize the
event, presented an opening meditation, "Thank God for Poetry." She
was followed by a stunning poem from School Resource Officer Sandy Williams.
Then, the student performers took the stage one by one.
The diversity
of poetry was astounding. Some poems were thoughtful, some were angry, and
others took a less serious approach. The poets wrote for different reasons
ranging from catharsis to sheer boredom, but we were united in a common love of
writing.
Hannah-Elise
Johnson, a sophomore, performed an untitled poem about the pressures of being a
teenager. She describes her poetry as "a way to keep from going
insane." A fan of Emily Dickinson and Josh Groban, she expressed real
emotions as she delivered her work.
Sophomore
Jennifer Lamprecht presented a poem titled "Insanity." The title
seemed fitting as she belted out the lines, building up to a frightening
climax, but she says the words are about "what a lot of people go through,
and they don't realize it."
Another
contestant was sophomore Nicole Luckey, whose poem "No Name" described
the emotional toll of infatuation from a distance. She enjoys artists such as
India Arie and Floetry and claims that poetry "helps you to explain
unexplainable stuff."
L.B. Goodwine
composed his piece when he was bored and wrote it about "the thing I
cherish the most." The poem took on a sensual tone, coming dangerously
close to Barry White material before L.B., a sophomore, announced what he loved
so much: hot, smoked ham.
When my name
was called, I felt like a lame version of Eminem stepping up to the microphone.
My poem definitely fell into the category of "less serious." It was
about Amish people and how they might be making a valid point about the evils
of technology. When the final line rolled off my tongue, I didn't know what to
expect, but the applause was reassuring.
Every
performer showed refined poetic talent, and the audience responded
enthusiastically. It takes nerve to go up onstage and let it all out.
While the
judges decided on the winners, the SHS Unity Soul Steppers took over. Stepping
is the art of stomping, clapping and snapping to make a unified beat. They
amazed us with their teamwork and coordination. Freshman Levi Roberts says he
enjoys being on the step team because "it has been something in the
African culture for a long time."
After the step
team wrapped up, there was a brief karaoke session, with the musically gifted
and the tone deaf alike singing along to favorites such as Destiny's Child's
"Say My Name."
Right when I
was about to reach for my earplugs, the judges made their decision. Nicole took
third place, and first place went to Hannah-Elise. Oh yeah, and I got second.
My friends were dumbfounded to say the least, but I was honored.
In the end,
the Poetry Slam was a success. This was only the second year the Umoja Club had
put it together, and there was a substantial audience present. Summers-Fogle
says she doubts the ticket sales made the club any profit after the expenses of
sound system setup and renting the cafeteria. But that's not what it was about.
It was about highlighting some excellent up-and-coming poets.
I enjoyed
presenting my poem and feeling the rush of onstage performance, and I'm sure
all the other poets and steppers felt the same. As for the audience, I think
they got their five buck's worth.
WINNERS
The following
poems took the two top slots at the Roc da Mic Poetry Slam at Summerville High
School earlier this month.
FIRST-PLACE
POEM,
UNTITLED
BY
HANNAH-ELISE JOHNSON
I look out the
window
the birds are
chirping
the sun's
shining
but inside I
am dying
so overwhelmed
so much stress
too many
questions
What am I to
do?
My family says
they know
My friends
tell me don't let it show
too many
opinions
too much
experience
too little
time
SECOND-PLACE
POEM
"WHY I
WANT TO GO AMISH"
BY PAUL
BOWERS
Cell phone
Ringing in my
ears
Bursting my
eardrums
Awakening
fears,
Will it give
me a tumor?
Will it drop
my call?
Will it get me
in trouble?
Will it spread
another rumor?
Television
Hammering my
senses
Day on and day
off,
No escape from
"The Simpsons"
And MTV and
BET and ABC,
What will I
see?
Hear? Feel?
Will it suck
out my brain?
Will it make
me go blind?
Will it
suction cup my butt to the couch?
Think I'm
losing my mind.
Automobile
Guzzling
gasoline,
Quenching its
thirst,
Belching
clouds of smog,
Blanketing the
sun.
I hit the gas
pedal and expect the worst.
Will it kill
the trees?
Will I hit a
phone pole?
Will the tires
squeal like a pig
When I slam
the brakes?
Will the
highway take its deadly toll?
Computer
Downloading
files,
Clogging up
the hard drive.
Surfing the
net
'Til I fall
off my board
Drowning,
How can I
survive?
Will my inbox
fill with junk mail?
Will I catch a
killer virus?
Will power
blip and erase my project?
No, I don't
want to fail.
Wish I was
Amish,
Cruisin'
around in my horse-drawn ride.
They don't
play Nintendo,
They don't
microwave their food,
And all along
they've testified
That
electricity's evil
And
technology's a distraction,
I guess it
gets in the way
Of human
interaction,
So if I move
to Pennsylvania,
You know where
I'll be.
The Amish
life,
The simple
life,
That's the
life for me.