The Complexities of Choral Speaking "I know, our PTA toilet project!

"

Oh help... That particular time of the year "Uh-ah" "World War Three?"

Has inevitably arrived - "How about banning Choral Speaking

forever!"
It's Choral Speaking time again.
Finally,
Choral Speaking?
After many hours of brain wracking
The very word
And hair tearing sessions,
Sends chills down our spines.
Our self-proclaimed geniuses
Librarians in the city
Complete their royal assignment
Are naturally mystified
But, the heartache is far from over
Over the sudden popularity
As up crops a totally new problem -
Of their poetry books
How exactly do we pronounce
As we comb and rummage
All these lip twisting
Through them in our zeal.
Tongue rolling

After days and days And mind boggling words?

Of searching, reading and rejecting poems, Everyone has their own version

We come to the conclusion Of how the poem should be recited

That no one has yet to produce "...this way...."

A poem striking enough "...no, that way..."

To suit our sophisticated tastes. Insults are thrown

Having no alternatives, Egos are bashed

We turn to our class' budding writers Reducing our poor Choral Speakers

And beg, cajole and even threaten them Into nothing but "Quarrel" speakers

To produce a top notch poem Amidst the catastrophe

In exactly 24 hours, A star is born - our conductor.

No matter how empty or void See her face twist

They claim their heads to be. See her hands fly here and there.

Having secured our Tennysons and Kiplings, She calms our frayed nerves

We now struggle to choose a prize winning And reassures us that

topic.
We do not sound as terrible
"What shall we speak on this year?"
As everyone says we do.
"Nothing"
Yet, it is she who tortures us

With countless hours of practice

Turning our lovely, harmonious voices

Into miserable, pathetic croaks.

After what seems to be

An eternity of voice projection,

We are forced to go on stage.

Behind the shaking knees,

Cold fingers and chattering teeth,

One comforting thought

Remains in our hearts -

For we know that

If we never pull through to the semi-finals,

The 38 of us overworked, underpraised

Angels in Bata shoes

Need never, ever go through

The complexities of Choral Speaking again.