Slam Pieces

For me performance poetry is a new and exciting concept. It is different than my other poetry. The two pieces that follow are the ones I did at my first Slam, back in February.  The rant I had by heart, the one on death I read. I am working on two more performance poems now. The words in bold are to help you read it somewhat as I would have said it.

The Rant I Want

I want to walk arm in arm with you by the river in the autumn leaves

I want to walk arm in arm with you

I want you by the river

I want you in the autumn leaves

I want a different year without disappointment

I want a different year

I want a difference

I want to scale your mountain of priorities and stand on top

I want to scale the mountain

I want new priorities

I want to stand on top

I want love to win over practicalities

I want to overcome the practicalities

I want love to win

I want love

I want you to love me more

I want to love you more

I want you to love me enough to come here where I am alone

I want you to love me enough

I want to love you enough to understand

I want to understand

I want you to understand

I want you to come here

where I am alone by the river

I want you to come here to my mountains

I want you to come

I want you

Radha

introduction: This is what happens in a romance where a long separation has just got longer.

Frustration and anger mount Neediness is the end result

Another Death

Another death on the hospital ward.

Death is part of life. It's part of the job.

No attachment. Professional detachment.

But how do you detach a heart ?

This one died quietly and alone.

The curtains are pulled.

Loved ones have been called.

I ask to know when they arrive, so they don't go in alone.

But work carries on just down the hall. The clock ticks on.

What I don't understand is how the world keeps going

The world should stop – at least for a moment

We need time – time for respect

A being has died, departed, gone ... from this world.

No moment of silence or celebration of life

at least not now.

The clock ticks on. Work carries on.

No prayers, No remembrance, No last respects

Just a body to move.

An empty bed on my team is what it will mean.

A new client there by the end of my shift.

No sign to say ... Somebody died here today

I feel his presence remaining in the room

I talk to his lifeless body

I talk to Him

of his courage in these last days, of his character, of the rest he has earned..

We move him gently zipped in a bag marked with his name.

A cider a day can't hurt, I reason,

but it might be a 2 cider night tonight, after THAT day.

She was only my age and the look of pain in her partners eyes, I'll never forget

his incomprehension of what to do next

A crack in my heart to join other cracks.

What of MY heart? How much more can I take?

Even so ,I am there to help the next family through.

They stand stiff and awkward in the room.

Their mother lies dying , beyond them now.

A raspy breath No voice

Eyes closed, focussed far off.

Put down the siderail I say, sit close, hold her hand.

Say what you need to. Hearing is last to go.

But I need to leave them.

The clock ticks on. Work carries on

Radha