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Outsports Clubhouse: Membership For Gay Sports Fans And Athletes
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Winning the Silver in Poetry Slam
 By Andrew Peterson
I?d heard the Games were coming to Sydney and naturally, I looked up the Web site post-haste. While browsing through the events listing, I noticed that a ?Poetry Slam? was being held as part of the Gay Games VI Cultural Festival. Further reading led me to understand that it was a competition of hard and fast performance poetry, something I had never seen, let alone done. Nonetheless, I decided that this was the event for me.
I am a 24 year-old poet, living in Stanmore in Sydney?s inner-west. I have been writing poetry from a very early age, as I have found it a fascinating and therapeutic means of expression. I work in the corporate sector during the week, but my love of nature and scientific mind have resulted in a weekend job with aquatic animals. It doesn?t leave me much time to pursue my hobbies, but it keeps me out of trouble (well, almost).
Back to the competition. Rules were set and unbreakable ? Pieces must be performed in one minute or less (judges would deduct a point per second for pieces running overtime). Props are allowed, but not if we couldn?t enter or exit the stage with them, etc. It was daunting, but then, what?s a competition without challenges?
The judging panel changed each night and consisted of professional performance poets and authors from Australia and abroad. Judges themselves performed pieces for us throughout the evening, to whet our curiosity as to ?how to do it.? Acclaimed New York author and performance poet, Felice Picano, was one such celebrity judge.
On the night of my heat, I chose to perform ?Lamenting Matthew Shepard.? This poem is about an issue very dear to my heart ? overcoming hate and adversity. Matthew Shepard was not the first gay hate crime victim and will certainly not be the last, but his is a well-known event that made new across the world. His is a true story that victims can relate to and I have a voice on the subject that I wanted heard. It was well received and I made it through to the finals.
The night of the finals was wonderful! First, entrants had to perform an original piece, different to the one that afforded them a place in the finals. Later, pieces used in the heat were performed for the second time. For my new piece, I chose ?The Gaboon Viper?, which is an ode to one of my favourite species of animal. Props were allowed, so I used one--my live pet Australian Carpet Python. What better to use than a real snake for a poem about snakes?? OK, I got gimmicky, but it must have worked.
Medal-winners were announced from Bronze, up.
?Our Bronze winner iiiiiis Karen Eastwood!? I clapped, cheered and carried on my conversation with an audience member, not ever expecting to hear my name.
?And the Silver goes to Andrew Peterson!? I was ecstatic! Elated! I made my way to the stage and took a place next to Karen, who I was sure would beat me with her memorable pieces.
?Our Gold Medallist iiiiiis Louis Ceci!? came the announcement. This was fantastic! I had Louis picked for Gold because of his flawlessly performed piece on why he ?Should be disqualified from the Poetry Slam.? ?
Having won Silver in my first-ever performance poetry competition has brought such an excellent high to my life. To be part of the Gay Games VI experience was nothing short of awesome and the feeling of togetherness was stronger than I?ve ever known. Regular contact has been kept between myself and other entrants, and who knows ? we may all be pitched against each other again in Montreal.
Andrew Peterson's Winning Poems
Lamenting Matthew Shepard
I die this day, I live no more,
For everything I'm fighting for
Has turned to dust before my eyes
Within this world of wicked lies.
Still me now, I cannot rest.
I close my eyes in vain, at best,
For, my back turned, the pigs come in,
Working well their putrid sin.
Heaven's hounds gnaw at my bone,
Uproot the very seed I've sown;
Ignoring so, their God's decree,
And plotting riddance for mine and me.
They justify the death of him,
Who would not cater to their whim.
Self-righteously, they cry aloud,
That all like him must wear the shroud.
Yet, what is dark, shall be made light;
Their wretched ways, their evil spite.
At which point they condemn and judge,
Their God will, all their deeds, begrudge.
Matthew Shepard, as thee rest,
We shall see to end this quest.
Your torch, we will, forever bear,
Of our hearts, you will have your share.
Goodnight.
The Gaboon Viper
Behold her precious, snow-white fangs,
Look into lidless eyes;
This face so many shudder at
Is not one to despise.
Of poison, she has plenty,
Yet, of evil, none to find;
She lives and breathes without a thought
Of malice on her mind.
If left alone, she?s harmless,
If aroused, she will defend;
On venom as her arsenal,
Her very life depends.
Watch her forked tongue flicker,
As she?s stalking tracks of prey;
So effortlessly striking,
She disrupts the mammal?s play.
Appreciate her grandeur,
Beware her lack of mirth;
She loves no one, yet hates no one.
Award her spanning berth.
Her camouflage and splendour,
Efficient speed and skill,
All stole my interest long ago
And hold me captive, still.
Photo of Andrew Peterson with his silver medal By Brent Mullins / Outsports.com. |
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