I held my Slam and it was fantastic!
One of my friends flew down form Penn just to slam and a bunch of kids from my school came and really enjoyed it. Definitely worth doing! It ended with a giant fun read through of everything and anything we could find to read in the bookstore! 7 years ago
I held my Slam and it was fantastic!
It’s my senior project.
I have confirmatoin.
I’m holding workshops
It’s going to happen. 7 years ago
And have received their approval. 8 years ago
Not in the Tampa Bay area… I’m from Atlanta and moving to florida is the craziest thing I’ve every done. I miss Apache!!! But a couple of weeks ago I co-hosted a slam at USF and it was a huge success. Ten poets came out and did their thing and it was mad fly… then a week later I was In my first slam (I’m an open mic kinda girl) and won with a perfect score (totally unexpected)... the slam after that was more competitive and I came in fourth place :( I love poetry and am willing to travel… anyone know of an upcoming event get @ me! 9 years ago
when you carry your gun
by cafegroundzero on Nov 17
(5 views this week at the allpoetry site.)
I found that when you carry your gun
in your waist band, it’s best behind ya.
Then too, one should not have too loose
a pair of trousers, or it’ll fall down.
With an automatic that could be fatal,
or at least an embarrassing discharge,
no pun intended.
Today I learned that although you can
hold the gun in your inside jacket pocket,
it’s not always easy to extricate it quick.
Then the whole premise of having it for defense
is invalidated, and at best you’ll look silly
trying to pull out your piece.
So have it behind ya, tight.
The other day I took off early
and drove to work where it’s against the law
to have any firearms, so I didnt even think
to take it, but on the other hand I hadn’t
put it up where no one could find it,
and I worried for a while that the lad
would find it in the pocket of a jacket.
This evening as three of us sat at a bar
the news suddenly showed a scene
where a woman and her daughter had been
murdered, mysteriously; the print powder
showed black, the crime tape yellow.
The family had not long ago come South
from Chicago; a son even more recently.
I’m thinking they were trying in vain
to get away from something which caught up.
And I wonder sometimes when will death
in its manyfold ways catch up with us.
Will it be on the highway?
Will it be a slow death?
Or one day will I know it’s my time?
I now know much more the value
the inestimable value of life,
the bittersweetness, the mystery,
the many possibilities that it holds.
And I won’t lose it cheap,
nor will I waste a second
nor brook any cheapening of it.
My lad is crying, and I interrupt
this message to see how he’s doing.
As I lay next to him, a story’s played
on cassette, about Cinderella’s love,
how she was blessed to charm the prince,
and I find myself feeling even more bleak.
My own first loves were thwarted.
So I decide to lay me down,
and I decide to brush my teeth first,
I’ve got to take good care of myself,
‘cause I’m the only father they have,
and I couldn’t bear the guilt of denying
them this, though I must slog on through life.
Fight the good fight! Yeh, what HE said. 9 years ago
I came closer last night when I signed up for a slam at the Sentient Bean. These will begin next month.
I read my poetry, one of several poets who preceded “Gypsy O” who came from Atlanta to do her spoken verse performance.
9 years ago
I called the head of the department of literature and writing at Southeastern Tech, our celebrated local vo-tech. Yes, I know it’s a vo-tech, but their our college, and I’ll give them first invite. Second invite goes to Brewton Parker, who are in Montgomery County and maintain a satellite campus here. 9 years ago
It’s a nice word—“hello.”
You hear it on streets,
sunny and green.
It’s spoken in hallways,
bustling and noisy…
sometimes quiet, and romantic,
in its own litle way.
“Hello” is also heard in forests,
shopping centers, ranches, and—yes,
even in nuclear subs…
“Hello” is sometimes a shiny warm brown
like a buckey, polished shoes, or
friendly eyes; a true “hello,” very real,
but being real, can also be green,
dark, wet, and spritely, like a pine;
very noble, and diplomatic.
Sometimes, when one is feeling happy,
it will be a big, bright, solid YELLOW,
beaming onward its cheery infinity.
“Hello La Poema! Hello Benji!”
It’s good to know
that hello can blend, can change,
but also be consistent.
For example, listen to “hello”
when it si blue; steadily
it speaks out its silent reality
dreamily pouring forth
Poem copyright 1978, 2005, by John-Peter Creighton 9 years ago