Poetry is when we take one word, and take another word, and put them together because they sound good and they say something. When we introduce ourselves as Magnificent Michael, Clever Clarabel or Metallic Morgan we are at the starting point of poetry. Our words sound good through their rhythm, rhyme and the play of vowels and consonants. They say something because the words we choose say something about us. I might introduce myself as Magnificent Michael because I think I am magnificent, or I'd like to be magnificent, or I'd like you to think I'm magnificent, or maybe just because it's the first word that comes into my head. Whatever the reason, it says something.
Performance poetry is where we take those words and draw out their energy, sharing that energy through our bodies, our faces, our voices. When Metallic Morgan's introduction started taking on robotic movement and voice, he showed that he is a performance poet.
We are all poets and performers. We just need the inspiration. So out we went into the Woods Mill Nature Reserve, a stimulating environment full of life and energy.
Anywhere can be inspiring and it's always a good day for poetry but we were particularly blessed to have a sunny end-of-summer day among the willows and reeds, swirling fish and gaggles of geese. I learned the Eagle eyes game from my friend Rob at www.wildnature.org.uk. The blending in with surroundings, being still, listening carefully and looking intently that the game involves make it perfect for switching on a poet's senses, including that special sixth sense: the imagination. So as we set off for an explore we could see, hear, feel, imagine the wonders of our world and see, hear, feel, imagine the world of Michael Rosen's Going on a Bear Hunt: long, wavy grass... swishy, swashy.
We returned from our exploring, exploding with words and ideas and images to develop into poems. I had Rosenesque notes like buzz-legged summer bug, bzzzt, bzzzt, and blue-bellied carp, gloop, slide. This was what I came up with:
Sliding Light
To the distant hum of the single engine,
To the chanting choir of geese,
To the last hoorah of the buzz-legged bug,
The light is loose and sliding.
To the curling up of fields of lace,
To the blowing away of the thistle,
To the spread of the sky full of shapeshifters,
The light is loose and sliding.
To the last hot breath of the dragonfly,
To the whisper goodbye of the reeds,
To the sinking below of the blue-bellied fish,
The light is loose and sliding.
Now I'm quite used to speaking out loud but not everyone is so we practiced making a racket with our words and big expression with our bodies and voices before taking our poems into the dragon's den of our families. And despite this daunting challenge, the hum of traffic in the background and the rustle of the rising autumn wind, 20 great poems were shared by the poets and I was as proud as a walrus. (Good simile, I reckon.)
I hope the young poets will share some of their work in the comments box. And I'd like to ask a question to improve my practice: It's a big, big challenge to read new work out louder than noisy nature and with the confidence of a big bear. Have you got any ideas how to make it easier, bigger, bolder? I'd love to hear from the young performers, parents, teachers and performing professionals. Walking into the dragon's den, what will help you roar?
Performance poetry is where we take those words and draw out their energy, sharing that energy through our bodies, our faces, our voices. When Metallic Morgan's introduction started taking on robotic movement and voice, he showed that he is a performance poet.
We are all poets and performers. We just need the inspiration. So out we went into the Woods Mill Nature Reserve, a stimulating environment full of life and energy.
Anywhere can be inspiring and it's always a good day for poetry but we were particularly blessed to have a sunny end-of-summer day among the willows and reeds, swirling fish and gaggles of geese. I learned the Eagle eyes game from my friend Rob at www.wildnature.org.uk. The blending in with surroundings, being still, listening carefully and looking intently that the game involves make it perfect for switching on a poet's senses, including that special sixth sense: the imagination. So as we set off for an explore we could see, hear, feel, imagine the wonders of our world and see, hear, feel, imagine the world of Michael Rosen's Going on a Bear Hunt: long, wavy grass... swishy, swashy.
We returned from our exploring, exploding with words and ideas and images to develop into poems. I had Rosenesque notes like buzz-legged summer bug, bzzzt, bzzzt, and blue-bellied carp, gloop, slide. This was what I came up with:
Sliding Light
To the distant hum of the single engine,
To the chanting choir of geese,
To the last hoorah of the buzz-legged bug,
The light is loose and sliding.
To the curling up of fields of lace,
To the blowing away of the thistle,
To the spread of the sky full of shapeshifters,
The light is loose and sliding.
To the last hot breath of the dragonfly,
To the whisper goodbye of the reeds,
To the sinking below of the blue-bellied fish,
The light is loose and sliding.
Now I'm quite used to speaking out loud but not everyone is so we practiced making a racket with our words and big expression with our bodies and voices before taking our poems into the dragon's den of our families. And despite this daunting challenge, the hum of traffic in the background and the rustle of the rising autumn wind, 20 great poems were shared by the poets and I was as proud as a walrus. (Good simile, I reckon.)
I hope the young poets will share some of their work in the comments box. And I'd like to ask a question to improve my practice: It's a big, big challenge to read new work out louder than noisy nature and with the confidence of a big bear. Have you got any ideas how to make it easier, bigger, bolder? I'd love to hear from the young performers, parents, teachers and performing professionals. Walking into the dragon's den, what will help you roar?
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