Poetry Slam - Reading Week

Pathological Liar - by Najla Abdo (2018 winner)
He was a pathological liar
Stuck in self denial
between me and his affirmations,
most of which were inappropriate invitations


He would play me like it was  a poker game:
Each round a different bet,
And each card a different story to tell,
with no continuation at all,
And for his tactics I fell


His body was tangible,
Unlike his mind and sentiments
Not even a worthy gypsy
Could revive his resentments


He would utilise my friend as a mailman,
Except the letters were always the same,
Sometimes I even wonder;
Does he even know my name?


Despite the theme of the letters being constant,
One thing would remain unknown :
Why would he lie to himself?
I was the audience to his repetitive show.


The Giant Man - by Sofia Costa Franca
He was a wall,
As tall as a building
His shoulders were broad and
His figure, bulky
His tangled, unkempt hair fluttered around
His face was dull, stitched, sunken  
And weather beaten
His clothes were small, tearing and ragged
His large eyes pierced into me
He looked as if he could
Easily tear me apart,  
As if I was a twig
I feared him,  
He beckoned me to come closer,
I hesitated, but soon gave in
We walked along
Through the night,
And I cowered behind him,
Engulfed by his towering shadow.



Surrealist Poem - By Laura Maksoud

Roses are red
My name is Dan
I have a gun
Get in my van

Roses are red
My name is not dave
This poem makes no sense
Microwave

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I hate rhyming
Vacum, Noodles, Hobo

The Lion and the Gazelle – By Heather Watson
A measure of our worth is how we treat those without power
Do we offer up our hand?
Or do we look down from lofty towers?
Do we voice some words of hope to those outside oursel’es
To use our gifts of power for those who are gazelles
Running from the lions who were born to be the kings
Who eat up those gazelles while they drinking at they springs?


Do we examine ourselves as lions?
What we can do with wealth and privilege?
Or do we make the world our hunting grounds
To sack and loot and pillage?
Do we examine the basis of our privileged births on Earth?
To ask what purpose do we serve?  What’s the basis of our worth?
Or do we look around and say that we deserve it
Because we were born lions, the gazelles were born to serve us
To offer up themselves in service to our Highness
While we pursue self-serving goals with a fervour that is mindless?
Are we grateful for opportunities to have the best there is?
Or do we think that it’s our right because we have riches?


The Earth is but a single place and all within it have value
The difference is who lives wild and who lives in a vaccuum
Insulated from the struggle of those who work with less
Born with equal talents but fewer chances for success
To those who must work harder to get a step ahead
Whose goals are not to sustain their rule but to earn their daily bread.
Gazelles, whose only asset is how fast they can move their feet
To stay ahead of all the lions who wish to feast upon their meat


Born into a class of privilege, lions think themselves the best
But what if the same advantages had been given to the rest?
How would the lion do on a playing field that’s levelled
If resources were fairly shared instead of just embezzled?
If the gazelle was freely given claws and fangs and muscle
Instead of menialities to labour, sweat and hustle?


The lions who were born with much should be mindful of their privilege
To come down from their castles and create a global village
A place where all have something to contribute,
Talents to develop and gifts to distribute
Because if the lion does not share in the power
There will come a time when it’s close to the hour
The gazelles will realize that they not here just to serve
They have their own inherent power which they rightfully deserve
Power that’s shared and resources too
Benefit all and not just the few
But if the lion wants to bask in the sun
And use its might for ego and fun,
The gazelle might just one day come back with a gun.