Course:Trick or Treat (Slam Poem)
| CRWR 501P 003 |
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| Advanced Writing of Poetry |
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Trick or Treat: 2013 - Brave New Voices (Finals) - Washington D.C. Team Round #4
This source is a slam poem performed at the Brave New Voices Grand Slam, a slam poetry competition, in 2013. The link to the performance can be found here.
When I came across this piece, I was sixteen years old and trying to write a slam poem for my grade eleven Honours English class. I had no idea how I would ever write anything that good. I was astounded by their coordination and by the powerful message they were expressing. Honestly, it was a real low for me: I was struck dumb by the surety that I could never create something that would stand up to this piece, or anything else that was published. How tragic! I think now. A life ambition squelched at sixteen! Things got better when I started actually writing (as things always do), and the piece I created literally changed my life.
Don’t get me wrong: it wasn’t a good piece. I read it now and cringe -- and to think, I read it aloud to my class! But for sixteen, it was decent. And, more importantly, my English teacher convinced me to submit it to Young Authors, a writing competition/conference thing that my school district did. There, I won an Honourable Mention for this poem, and the following year, I wrote a different poem that won the first prize. These successes convinced me that I needed to go into creative writing and, as cheesy as it sounds, follow my dreams. Five years after graduation, here I am, doing exactly that.
In addition to changing my life, this performance has influenced every poem I’ve ever written, even if I didn’t know it. Now, I read every one of my poems aloud dramatically (even if I would never perform the piece), which caused more critical thought about sound-related craft elements, rhythm, and tone. This was especially evident in poetry pre-2020, when I was a bit younger. Below, I've included some excerpts from my older poems, including the one I mention above. I include my age in the citation so you can contextualize these poems as I grow up.
I was told that I could never get my happy ending
And that it was my fault
And I knew then that happy endings were not a concrete thing like I had thought
But they weren’t a paper thing either.
They existed in the stories that I loved,
But I was starting to realize that the idea of a happy ending is just a really shitty way of covering up the fact that everything ends,
And that I’d rather have a mezzo-happy continuation than a happy ending anyhow.
- From “Paper Things”, 2016 (age 16)
Twice a year, I like the stuffing better.
Twice a year, in a sweater that itches and
my mom tells my grandmother that yes, the dog is allowed on the sofa, Susan.
They ask me about school and life and school,
twice a year,
through mouthfuls of brown sugar sweet potatoes,
discreet glances at hands,
and what are your plans for the future?
And I have a staring contest with the gravy
and think maybe
they just want an explanation as to why my hair is bubblegum blue.
- From “Twice a Year”, 2018 (age 18)
I’m having a bad day.
A day where you can’t say which way
things are going to turn next.
Next, maybe sex, maybe flecks
of snot on my face from crying,
lying face down on my floor,
wanting wishing wondering
A nap, on a star, will I ever
sleep again? Maybe
next to my baby in our bed
Hand in hand in hand in hand.
Which way? I can’t say.
I’m having a bad day.
- From “Bad Day”, 2019 (age 19)