A poetry slam held on Thursday, April 24, from 11 to 1 in the Commons drew over 120 students from area high schools Cameron, Rice Lake, Birchwood, and Cumberland to hear performances of their peers creative writing.
A poetry slam is a competition at which poets read or recite original work and are judged on their performance/interpretation. Poetry slams feature a broad range of voices, styles, cultural traditions, and approaches to writing and performance. Some use traditional theatric devices including shifting voices and tones, while others stretch the boundaries of format, tap-dancing or beatboxing or using highly-choreographed movements.
The UW-BC poetry slam included three rounds in which each participant was awarded 1-10 points by a panel of UW-Barron County creative writing students. The highest-scoring participants advanced to the next round.
All poetry slam participants received free enrollment in UW-Barron County three-day writing and ecology seminar that will be taught by professors Joel Friederich and Alex Bezzerides on June 9-11 along with a copy of “A Pilgrim at Tinker Creek” by Annie Dillard that will be used during the seminar.
For more information or to register in advance, contact Samantha Heathman at samantha.heathman@uwc.edu.
First Place: Drop it
By Bethany R. Stavran
I am not an optimist.
I am not a pessimist.
I do not see the glass half full.
I do not see the glass half empty.
I pick up the glass and chug that refreshing liquid down my throat hole so ferociously that it flows into my nasal passageways and I choke and I gag and I’m going to be absolutely fine… in a minute, but I’m going to make a super-huge deal about my “near-death” experience with that blasted glass!
And surely enough, as I’m gasping for air and my turns puce, somebody watching me looks up and mutters under their breath…
“I hate my life…”
Narcissism.
Criticism.
Dramatization.
Pessimistic.
Ego-centric.
Pity-whore!
Their life is fine—
Your life is fine!
Better than sitting in some drippy cardboard box with a dirt floor and a sack of beans to munch on while you cough up some more asbestos!
So I took Calculus.
Advanced Placement Spanish.
Research Seminar.
It’s hard and I’m sleep-deprived and the teachers are strict, assigning a ten-page research paper the same day as 25 vocabulary words and 40 book problems and I’m sitting in the library ten minutes before class trying to get it all done and someone drags their feet up to my table and dumps their backpack in front of me and groans…
“I hate my classes….”
Downer.
Lame-O.
Indecision.
Poor chooser.
Sore loser.
You chose the classes—
You put it on yourself.
Better than crouching behind a bullet-ridding van that smells like rust and fearing another explosion that will rattle your helmet one more time before you dive back into the battlefield!
I am shopping at Wal-Mart.
I find a sweater—one that is perfect! It’s yellow, with cross-stitching that forms this beautiful little snowflake pattern and it’s soft and not itchy at all and I love it and I want it and it’s mine! Until… it’s too small.
And a skinny little toothpick approaches me with a pair of jogging pants in hand and starts to cry and says…
“I hate my body…”
I have no more words.
I cannot even describe it.
I, as a poet, simply turn to those people and give them a look and roll my eyes and say…
Drop it.
Second Place: The Emo Emu Says...
By Eric Westin
The Emo Emu Says…
I run to my room and become really sad
Even though life ain’t all that bad.
I grab my razor, and I go to town. (Shaving)
I grab my black clothes and dress like a clown. (to go raving)
I play my favorite tune, they scream so gracefully.
I think about how my life’s so bad, and why everyone hates me.
I may be much skinnier than all the other guys.
So I put on my tightest pants, and then I black my eyes.
No one understands me. It’s like I’m in a dark hole.
My life is like a puddle, as shallow as my soul.
The world is out to get me, the world is full of lies.
I wish that I could see the light, but my hair covers my eyes.
Emos need to stand together, so we’ll start a new era.
In the meantime, I need to paint my nails black, can you hand me that mascara?
Third Place: What are you?
By Kaitlin Tschanz
What are you?
You are a jock
No a prep
A punk
A nerd
A hick
A goth
What are you?
I know who you are!
An emo
Say what?
Duh, don’t you know? Drama + Black Eyeliner
=EMO
But I don’t wear it that often
You like dark colors and all that screamo emo
music
Oh don’t make me sick
I listen to country too and let’s not forget jazz
But you have
More factors than these!
Please!
Are you serious? I’m not an emo!
True you don’t have black hair or wear skinny
Jeans and you don’t cut your wrists
Do you even know what an emo is?
No…
Emo=Emotional.
So don’t call me emo, because everyone is a
Little emo, just some are more emo than others
Well then…you have an inner emo
But that still doesn’t tell me what you are
You don’t play sports so you’re not a jock
You are not popular and you for sure don’t have
fashion sense so you’re not a prep
You don’t skateboard and you don’t have a
Mohawk so you’re not a punk
You are smart but you don’t have the nerdy
glasses or the pocket protector…so no nerd-
dom for you
You listen to country music but you don’t get
rip-roaring drunk so you are not a hick
Goth is more romantic than emo…so…
What the hell are you?
Why does it matter?
Why does everyone care soooooo much about
what you are instead of who you are?
Why do we humans feel the hunger, the urge to
create cliques?
To embrace these degrading and moronic
stereotypes?
To categorize each one of us?
To create segregation?
Do we have a common relation?
We are all human! With souls longing for love
and live!
To belong and be held
To share
To cry
To scream
To hate
It’s not too late
For us to change! We need to unite!
You sound like a cheesy movie
That’s groovie
With me
You are totally a hippie
STOP THAT!
I’ll tell you what I am, if it makes you so damn
Happy
I am me
I’m a jock
A prep
A punk
A nerd
A jick
A goth
A hippie
And an emo
I am a mixture of everything
I am unique
I don’t understand why we follow these trends
Because we want to find similar people, who
want to be loved and live
To belong and be held
To share
To cry
To scream
To hate
Maybe you’re right…
We are all human…with comomon relation
We don’t need segregation…we need love and
peace…OMG I sound like you, you hippie!
So what does that make me?
A unique soul
It makes you, you.