Life is too short, to not take the stage.

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I attended a middle school poetry slam a couple of weeks ago. A large percentage of the MS students participated, which is miraculous, in and of itself, writing their own poems and standing on a stage to recite, deliver, perform, amaze.  I’m an English teacher, so I like to think that I know my way around a poem, but while sitting in the audience, I tried to calculate how long it had been since I had actually written and recited one. 30 years, in fact – when I was forced to do this at school. This event was a completely different world to the one in which we all stood up, in turn, and read our words to a disinterested class all those years ago.

This poetry slam was so much fun and so much courage was found by so many students, you could not help being moved. The photo above was taken while I was riding to school one day across Kawainui Marsh and it seems to capture how it felt, sitting listening to the MS students recite their poetry. There is a specific beauty within that type of courage. Their inspiration allows me to now say, ‘My name is Damian Rentoule and it has been two weeks since I wrote & recited a poem’.  Here it is, with references to the poems of the night – The ‘Wang’ is the name of the auditorium,  the ‘brick wall’ is a paper backdrop which fell during the performances etc. You can just try to guess the rest. Hope you enjoy it.


Dragons & Bottles: The Eggcellent JLA Poets

Enter the Wang,

but beware the brick wall.

Looming behind me,

tempting to fall.

Listeners cheered,

poets all spoke.

Words from the heart,

and of course, the odd joke.

To hear my friends shouting,

as my name is read.

There’s nothing quite like it,

these words in my head.

Beautiful brownies,

all stuck on the floor.

Don’t worry about it,

just go back for more.

Alone on the stage,

yet not really just one.

My friends are all cheering,

they’re making this fun.

Some words are bright,

others just bold.

Desperate or angry,

all truth is told.

These thoughts are so private,

too private to share.

But here on the stage,

my soul is laid bare.

Yet, not nearly as scary,

as I thought it would be.

For this feeling is special,

all eyes are on me.

Their waiting to hear,

the meaning I’ve spun.

Ms Huber, Ms Baxter,

I feel like I’ve won.

Life is too short,

to not take the stage.

To wear a black beret,

recite from my page.

Parents are proud,

you are growing so fast.

We love you dear child,

From now, to the last.

Dragons and Bottles,

That’s who I am.

Bullies and Eggs,

The Poetry Slam.

By Damian Rentoule – an impressed audience member.


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