Spoken Corner!

Julian Pena at UW Annual NYC Teen Poetry Slam 08'

Lately, I have been caught up not only with classes but also with poetry. The past 2 weeks ago was the preliminaries of Urban Word's Annual NYC Teen Poetry Slam. They will be having their finals on this spring at the famous Apollo Theater in Harlem (253 WEST 125TH STREET).  Teens of 13-19 get a chance to "spit" (performing spoken poetry) and see if they can advance on the Urban Word Slam Team. The poets chosen in the Slam Team get to go to San Francisco and represent NYC for HBO's Brave New Voices. Sounds crazy?! I am highly excited because I got a chance to spit for the last preliminary at The Point in the Bronx. I met and conversated with a few poets and made a new poet friend. Her name is Takea and I didn't get a chance to actually videotape her performance. However, this Sunday its semi-finals and I am highly excited because I will be videotaping it for another exciting blog post that will give more insight of what is spoken word. So til then, laaater!

Spoken Corner!

Julian Pena at UW Annual NYC Teen Poetry Slam 08'

Lately, I have been caught up not only with classes but also with poetry. The past 2 weeks ago was the preliminaries of Urban Word's Annual NYC Teen Poetry Slam. They will be having their finals on this spring at the famous Apollo Theater in Harlem (253 WEST 125TH STREET).  Teens of 13-19 get a chance to "spit" (performing spoken poetry) and see if they can advance on the Urban Word Slam Team. The poets chosen in the Slam Team get to go to San Francisco and represent NYC for HBO's Brave New Voices. Sounds crazy?! I am highly excited because I got a chance to spit for the last preliminary at The Point in the Bronx. I met and conversated with a few poets and made a new poet friend. Her name is Takea and I didn't get a chance to actually videotape her performance. However, this Sunday its semi-finals and I am highly excited because I will be videotaping it for another exciting blog post that will give more insight of what is spoken word. So til then, laaater!

The Raven (an exerpt) by Edgar Allan Poe

Since, Halloween is right around the corner (really it is). I decided to post an excerpt of one Edgar Allan Poe's famous poems, "The Raven," With no further ado:

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you" — here I opened wide the door; —— Darkness there, and nothing more.    

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"
                                                Merely this, and nothing more.    


Then into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon I heard again a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore —
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
                                    'Tis the wind, and nothing more!"    

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not an instant stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door —
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door —
                                         Perched, and sat, and nothing more.    

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore —
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
                                             Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."    


Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no sublunary being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door —
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
                                               With such name as "Nevermore."    

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered — not a feather then he fluttered —
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before —
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
                                               Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."    


Wondering at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster — so, when Hope he would adjure,
Stern Despair returned, instead of the sweet Hope he dared adjure —
                                               That sad answer, "Nevermore!"

(If you wish to read more, click here to read the whole poem)

The Raven (an exerpt) by Edgar Allan Poe

Since, Halloween is right around the corner (really it is). I decided to post an excerpt of one Edgar Allan Poe's famous poems, "The Raven," With no further ado:

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you" — here I opened wide the door; —— Darkness there, and nothing more.    

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"
                                                Merely this, and nothing more.    


Then into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon I heard again a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore —
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
                                    'Tis the wind, and nothing more!"    

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not an instant stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door —
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door —
                                         Perched, and sat, and nothing more.    

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore —
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
                                             Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."    


Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no sublunary being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door —
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
                                               With such name as "Nevermore."    

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered — not a feather then he fluttered —
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before —
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
                                               Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."    


Wondering at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster — so, when Hope he would adjure,
Stern Despair returned, instead of the sweet Hope he dared adjure —
                                               That sad answer, "Nevermore!"

(If you wish to read more, click here to read the whole poem)