The Poetry Olympics

By: Mark Buchanan

On Saturday, May 11th, I attended a poetry competition in Lowell. There we first had workshops where we discussed, and wrote about topics such as: love, perception, identity, and more. After those workshops, we had some time before the competition for open mics. We had about five or so poets come up to deliver their poems. Open mics are intended to be relaxed and are not graded by the judges—and they were. Once all of the poets finished reciting their open mics, the time everyone was waiting for was about to begin—the competition. The competition was divided into four different teams from four different schools, and all had their sights on victory. The judges of the competition were picked randomly the crowd, and would judge from a scale of 0 to 40. Each team had a set of indie poems from individual students and one group. I was to recite this indie poem:

Stars Unto Death

Ghoulish, ghastly they gave us grim.

They came from nature and foul limbs;

Where they crawled from under their hollow souls

To show us our fate without remorse.

And unto the stars whose witness shaped our palms

We ventured. (in search)

Beyond it all but reason and wisdom

Our hearts desired none,

And knew no other than anguish and longing

From finite stars to infinite emptiness.

Constellations divine—patriarchies align—

And now, let our mystic hierarchies shine.

Before us:

Can’t you see, smell, sense that certain

Celestial air

Softly permeating throughout the sweat rejuvenating ether?

For our fathers designed it

With a metallic instrument sharp as arrow.

They called it ruler

For it ruled the dimensions of heaven,

And discerned sinner from saint. (in search)

For we syntactical sons wast borne true by the ethereal arrow; (in search)

We speak with our angelic red lips; (in search)

We aim as arrows unto salvation; (in search)

We pierce the almighty skies with fiery souls; (in search)

We die and die and die

Over and over and over again

Ceaselessly borne back then fired forward;

Ceaselessly aiming then striking the sun so that one day…

The numbers upon the walls will answer our calls.

The cosmos’ sacred physics will open its doors without limits.

The planets will synchronize as we authorize.

The comets will never collide—unless certified.

The earth’s jungles will burn as we discern.

The moons will crystallize under our guise.

And the tides will cease so that we will live in peace.

All the world domesticated; all the world designed.

The western eye sees all—and forgives none…

So that one day all our scars will finally make the chthonic faeries see the stars.

In search…

After all group and indie poems were recited, the results were in. Our team finished in 3rd place and earned $150 for the Poetry Club.