Janet McAllister: Let's hear it from the poets

Urban poet Courtney Meredith. Photo / Supplied

Our annual poetry day rolls around next Friday; a day of celebration for our nursery-rhyming toddlers and our learned professors, and possibly only a handful of us in between. Poetry in this country is as splintered as its ragged lines on paper.

This is perhaps as it should be. Poetry is ridiculously eclectic, the only literature form I can think of which encompasses works we're asked to listen to, and others we're asked to look at, as a matter of course. In contrast, plays are designed to be performed. Novels - they can be read out loud (I recommend it for sharing a book), but it's a rare author who writes with that expectation.

But poetry? Two forms are hidden by that misleading sole name: marks on the page and performance on the stage. Very roughly, the two forms attract different communities in New Zealand.

In the page corner - they might occasionally do poetry "readings" but they write about "The Oral Tradition" in the past tense - we have the institutions, the taste-makers, Landfall and the Names. These once-radical Names are now Establishment: Manhire, O'Sullivan, Wedde, Stead.

This writerly tradition has unwritten rules: a very learned and irreverent friend of mine maintains that to get into the annual Best New Zealand Poems collection, you have to stick to three subjects: flora and fauna; overseas experiences; and childhood reminiscences. James K, James K, why hast thou forsaken us?

In the performance corner, slam competitions are all about personal identity struggles, and the live moment, the charisma and audience cheer. They pit poets against each other - hardly conducive to mutual support if it's the only time poets meet. Then there are those waiting their turn - perhaps politely, perhaps not - to perform at Poetry Live on Tuesdays at the Thirsty Dog for an audience who are patiently (or not) waiting for their own turn at the mic.

It would be great to see more overlap between the two worlds (which are splintered in themselves) - both page and performance poets can learn from each other. Former poet laureate Michele Leggott bridges the gap, as does accomplished young Auckland poet Courtney Meredith. Of Samoan, Cook Island and Irish descent, Meredith is published in the Mauri Ola anthology, and has won and judged several poetry slams. Next month, she's performing at Te Papa, then at the Wine Cellar on August 25, before flying off to Berlin to perform with Mau Dance.

An urban poet, yet inspired by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Meredith deliberately separates her writing for performance (about 20 per cent of her oeuvre), from her writing for publication.

In her poems for the page, she muses on "residual epiphanies", and uses obscure words for effect, knowing her reader can return to the poem in reflection.

In her more accessible poems for the stage, she aims to rally a crowd. Performance is always raw and risky - "you can put your soul out there" for an audience who might be hostile, or unaffected, she says.

Meredith's advice to fellow poets is to know your poems off by heart, and end your set with your favourite, "the poem that, if you were a wrestler, would be your theme song".

I would add to this advice: please, dear poets, don't use that special singsong poetry voice. It's dreadful. And now you know, I look forward to phoning for a poem on Friday.