The Spoken Word

Recently I was introduced to the spoken word by a friend. It is essentially spoken poetry and though I had my reservations I can say that I am decently surprised and extremely thankful for my friends’ introduction.

I had my reservations because I believe that an artist’s work should not be left to the interpretation of the reader, an aspiring painter or musician. I believe that an artist’s work is the product of their own imagination; the message that they want to convey would be distorted or destroyed if left to the reader. Imagine Shakespeare’s sonnet, sonnet 18 being diced and analyzed, put on the chopping board of our own interpretation, left to our machinations of putting ourselves into others. Emphasis could be placed in areas the poet did not want and his original message could be detracted from and yet we still do it. I find the very idea of literature to be an anathema to be honest. I feel that we should appreciate things the way they are and not put ourselves into it as it is an insult to the artist’s work. Can we say that we know what the artist meant? If not then there is really no point in putting ourselves into it is there? Why overcomplicate things? Why read into things that may or may not be there and leave it mulling in your mind? The world is already such a confusing and complicated place.

Even so, my reservations regarding the spoken word were unfounded and I soon found myself enraptured by it. I loved the way the poet could get their message across, their tone and ideas could never be lost. The way their posture changed in between; a testament to their feelings and the scene. Their meaning was intertwined with their words; their voice was spread and could always be heard. You could hear the pain and the suffering they faced, the joy, happiness and their voice, they interlaced.  The emotion infused gave context to the poem and the sounds that were heard were not alone. They were accompanied with facial expressions, a mirror to the soul and and an honest concession . There was no ambiguity in their words because their soul was bared which for me was a first.

As I’m sure the more perceptive have noticed by now, the above stanza is a rudimentary attempt at poetry. Sadly I cannot be there to “lend” you my voice but rest assured, I meant everything that you have heard. I have to admit that after watching a few videos of spoken word poets I now have a new appreciation for poetry which is ironic as I now see more clearly things I ever saw before. The irony ( to me) lies in that it took a poet who was different to make me appreciate what was the norm , it took their voices for me to appreciate its form. The rhyme and meter now make sense and how they all tie together or coalesce.

This article is not an article to bash literature, in fact if anything it is to show people that literature can be beautiful. Do not be like me, do not let your preconceived notions take over and prevent you from seeing something beautiful which almost happened to me. Perhaps now I can appreciate literature more , accept that people will subjugate it to their own interpretation and live with that. Knowing that though they may not envision what the original poet/author meant but along the lines, someone somewhere will find the right “voice”

I would recommend that everyone watch a Sarah Kay video on youtube or if possible her Tedx video because she is one of the most inspiring spoken poets that I’ve seen thus far.

BY IAN QUAH