Rules of BMP Poetry Slam 
It's Easy!!
Review carefully the following works from each poet. 

Consider and vote for the Poem you feel is the "Poem Of The Slam".

So vote for your fave !


Vote Poet of the Slam
VOTE Mannie Seafont NZ
VOTE Howell D Person NZ
VOTE Richard Fien USA

Mannie Seafont: 
New Zealand

'The power, and the glory.'

Copyright 2001 Emanuel Seafont.

For valour's what the posters said,

'For valour', sounds like me.

For valour I'll give up this life,

and sail across the seas.

To this land I'd hardly heard of,

to fight for people I don't know.

But this is what I trained so hard for,

and I'll give em all, a bloody show.

These paddy fields, they smell like shit,

not the way that I had pictured it,

but my units here, I'm in good hands.

We'll soon be back on golden sands.

I heard its scream, and felt it hit,

I just hope to God I remember it.

It burns like hell, though there's no pain,

and my brow is cooled by orange rain.

The sky has turned from blue to red,

Lord Jesus tell me I'm not dead.

I promised Mum I'd come home soon.

Fuck it man, it's already June.

Her birthday's only weeks away.

The red is slowly turning grey.

Wake me from this bastard dream.

Give me courage Lord, that I might scream.

Save me Lord. God knows I've tried.

The medic's dead here at my side.

There's a sniper up that fuckin tree.

Please save one bullet. Set me free.

Tell my Mum I love her so.

Dry her tears and let her know,

I was thinking of her at the last.

God, tell me please, the worst has passed.

There's no one round. I cannot hear,

just drumming noises in my ears.

My eyes have gone. No more to see,

Lord God, there's only you and me.

Somehow, I think that's meant to be..........

Howell D Person: New Zealand

Time Lapse.

Windscreen shudder. A dead bird
lying on the road - as ruffled and warm

as a study by Raymond Ching. Next morning
on the frosted tarmac, leg splayed

in the air, austerely rendered
by Andrew Wyeth. Run over

a few times, pressed Soutine-like
into the seal with a palette knife.

To disappear to brittle bone and feather
treaded into tack. Minamalist Miro.

Author. Howell D Person, Hawkes Bay. Unpublished but dedicated 

R Neal: USA
 The Albatross Trilogy

Part 1 - The Chaos...

His mistake had followed 
behind him as faithfully as his shadow. 
Now, lying on his death bed 
watching HER 'make the arrangements', 
he knew his mistake would survive him 
disguised in crocodile grief... 

He wheezed "Rouge? Really dear! 
I thought cologne was more your style." 
"Goodbye Darling..." She smiled, pressed the red button, 
and watched his eyes roll back. 
"It doesn't matter..." he stammered 
"Joshua knows everything! Joshua .. knows..." 

She picked up the phone. 
"Joshua... Honey, I'm sorry to have to tell you... 
but your father just...passed away. 
I know I'm your step-mother, but 
I'm very upset, can you come home? 
Yes, it's quite a shock to me too..."


Part 2 - The Awakening...

He lay shaking in complete regression. 
Drifting from image to shadow... 
"Doctor, is the fire out yet?" 
"No, son, take two and whisper 
there's no place like home, 
there's no place like home." 

And somewhere, SHE waits unattended, 
wondering if Joshua would survive 
her motherly affectations. 
She smiled, dropping 2 stones, 
one at a time, 
into the dark, murky, river water 
listening, while watching stars fall, 
blinking overhead, 
in their 'oh so perfect' trajectories. 

All the while, medical clicking sounds 
filled the room, mixing with the voices 
of strangers, each eager 
to be paid for their services, 
while Joshua learned his lessons alone. 

"Come and sit by me" the man in white said. 
So Joshua sat and listened at length 
but  when the man disappeared, 
the pain began, and Joshua heard HER whisper 
"You cannot leave me now, 

I need to know..." 

And a little boy stood in his backyard 
listening to the music coming 
from windows that never closed. 
He was reaching for his bike when 
he heard his mother call to him 
"Joshua, it's dinner time, come and wash up." 

The people standing in his room 
swear, to this day, 
that they heard him whisper 
"Yes mother, I'm coming." 
and, as the alarms sounded
mixed with medical clicking sounds 
and the voices of strangers, 
each eager to be paid for their services, 
Joshua quietly left the room. 


Part 3 - The Confessional...

SHE sat in the garden, 
among the blooms, 
pulling petals from a rose. 
She wore a black veil, 
concealing smiling red lips 
painted on albescent ice. 
"You were wrong, old man. Joshua 
didn't know anything" she whispered. 

Across town, among tall headstones, 
stood two wooden crosses, 
Testament to a woman scorned

Richard Fien: USA


On this planet absolute zero is found only in a mythical realm.
It's certainly not in Florida where Ponce de Leon 
hacked his way through tangled vines 
trying to find the Fountain of Youth.
Had he really stumbled across his yearned-for myth
and fell face down upon it,
his corneas would have crystallized into ice
and his brittle face would have shattered
after he suffered the searing pain of ultimate cold.
Absolute zero can only be a heartless place,
for no heart could beat there,
because a heartbeat is motion 
and without motion there is no warmth,
and without warmth there is no motion.
Thus at zero degrees Kelvin
all hearts must be ice hard and still.
In complete stillness nothing can change.
And where there is no change 
nothing can age—
eternal youth.
But such youth is lived in deathly silence
for sound is oscillation, 
and oscillation is another form of motion.

Imagine that Ponce de Leon discovered that icy fountain 
and survived the thrill of the first encounter,
picture him afterwards
immersed in his realized dream,
his hands held tight against his ears
trying to deafen the roaring silence,
and his mouth perpetually poised to scream
but eternally frozen shut.