Posts Tagged ‘C.R. Avery’

When I Feel Poetry

Posted: April 19, 2010 in Poetry
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Saturday was a great show. At one point during my set I said how lucky I saw, “doing my favourite thing, in my favourite place, opening for my favourite performer.”

It was a good day.

I went up first and opened with 1968 (should be up this week). The crowd was quiet during it, but made up for that with love after. Next I did Used to Be (too new for this blog so far), and dedicated it to Will. I’m not used to getting boos while I perform. 🙂 Then I performed an even newer poem called The Stranger. That was my first full performance of it, and it went great! Just today and am working on a new arrangement of it with my good friend Danielle. It will be awesome! I finished up with Library, which went over really big. It was a blast.

But that was just the start! Amelia Leclair went up and played guitar and djembe and sang. She is really good! Then Brad Morden went up and did a poem and then pulled out the ukelele and Amelia came back and…yeah, wow! Great fun! Free Will was the penultimate performer, joined by his sister Eric for one piece.

Then C.R. Avery went up and did a kickass set! He even did his Boxer returning from Londeon piece, which made me wish I had done Shadow Boxing, since it was inspired my his poem. The highlight may have been his improptu cover of the Beatles’ Blackbird.

CONTEXT: April, 2009

Coming up to the semi-finals, I wrote this piece. I didn’t have time to memorize it for the semis, but I used it for the finals, where it teamed up with another poem (to be posted later), for an amazing confluence on the night.

It started just as a musing about the odd palce I find myself in, sometimes. While I do not consider myself old (At all), I am quite a bit older than many of my peers in the spoken word scene around Ottawa. This poem is a light-hearted look at that.

Though he ended up being about my self-esteem issues… in a way that most people wouldn’t even notice when they hear the poem.

Still, I like the poem. It is fun and fun to perform.

    When I Feel Poetry

When I get up I feel it in my knees.
A dull ache that reminds me of days
Long gone when I could run, jump
And grab life.
My back is stiff and I have this
Knot in my neck that won’t go away.

Then I hear poetry and all my aches
Fall away.
The words flow through like an
Electrical charge to my frontal lobe
Like a reverse lobotomy
That makes things clearer.
Light shoots out my fingers
And the light makes me light
On the tips of my toes
I follow my nose
Because it always knows
Where to sniff out poetry.
I can dance a jig
Dash like Bolt
Or hit a thunderous homerun into the
Upper deck.
I forget my body is a wreck
Because I feel alive
When I hear poetry.

I come to these shows and see people
Flirting with their eyes and smiles.
Harmless fun between 20-somethings
In the prime of youth.
Sexy hardbodies of any gender
Talking with their walk and gaze
In a haze of estrogen and testosterone
And I think back…
Though I was never that guy.
I look at my extra hundred pounds
And vanishing hairline
And envy the ease of physical grace.

Then I feel my poetry and my words
Transform me.
My pounds don’t fall away
Instead I’m your sexy teddy bear,
Filling the stage
As I fill your ears.
A word is worth a thousand pictures
As a hundred mental snapshots
Are saved for later.
Confidence erupts from nowhere
And an ease bubbles under the surface
Igniting a desire out of nothing.
I may not look like Marcus Jameel
But that’s just the man I am –
A super-sized love machine
That sounds like something
You’ve never seen.
Taking lines that will haunt
Your dreams.
When I feel my poetry.

I watch the years tack on
And I feel old.
Out of touch and missing –
Forgetting or never knowing
What it feels like to care for something
So strongly that it erupts from
Your pores.
Sitting on my porch,
Waving my cane
At anyone who crosses my lawn.

Then I spit my poetry
Throwing out truth and wisdom
Tapping into the flow
That all poets feel.
Drinking from the magic
Underground stream
That all poets live on.
I sweep you up in my wake
Until its all you can take
To swim along and find your
Place in my song.
And there is room for everyone
On this wave of passion
And fashion of freedom.
Freedom to think, do and be
Whatever you can dream
Leaving behind what you don’t need
And trailing along – not groupies
But FANS who listen and listen
And hear and feel
Everything my words are drenched with
When I spit my poetry.

And when I am done
And feel the applause
I can almost believe it is real.


Next up is the poem I ALMOST performed at the finals that year…