The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Savannah poet Chris Williams is dispelling myths
Award-winning poet emphasizes the craft of spoken word poetry.
Local poet Chris Williams saw a meme, wrote a poem won Grand Champion of Button Poetry’s 2021 Video Contest.
Of course, a lot happened in between, so let’s get into it.
Anyone who knows Williams knows he likes to laugh. It’s a laugh that bursts and fizzes like blue razz Pop Rocks in Coca-Cola. It’s a laugh that reveals a deep connection to his inner child, a trait that serves him well, especially in his job as a site coordinator for the Deep Center’s Young Author Project, a creative writing program for junior youth in Savannah surrounding areas.
It’s this laugh that erupted when he was scrolling on social media one day and came across a post listing various events in pop culture that lasted longer than the Confederacy, that is, longer than
years spanning 1861-65. At first, Williams just thought about making his meme and add
to the fun, but as list got longer, he saw the potential in making it a poem. So, he did. “I wrote it real quick,” Williams says. “I took like an hour, maybe, writing it, and I was like, cool,
you know, just fun.”
He took that fun little piece and performed it at an open mic. Afterward, his co-worker and friend Marquice Williams took him aside and said, “I feel like it has potential to go viral and be popular.”
Having shared creativespaces w ith Marqu ice for around a decade, Williams took his suggestion to heart and took pause when he stumbled across Button Poetry’s video contest announcement. Williams submitted a recording of himself reciting “The Sound of
Surrender” along with the eight dollar application fee and hoped for the best.
A few months later, he was announced Grand Champion on the company’s Instagram.
Still sounda bit magical,a little intangible? Williams says that’s how most people see spoken word, intentionally or not. “A lot of people have an impression of spoken word poetry that’s like a pastiche of Def Poetry Jam from like 2001-2006, a similar set of cadences, subject matters, and ways of entering into topics,” says
Williams. “A lot of people don’t ascribe craft to spoken word.”
More often than not, most people’s interaction with poetry in educational settings doesn’t go beyond thematic analysis.
Most English or Literature courses’ sole objective is to interpret symbolic meanings, rather than reverse-engineer techniques. Poetry and, more specifically, spoken word are considered natural-born talents, especially because of the critical role performance plays in presentation of pieces. This can leave many with the impression that you either got it or ya don’t, you’re either in or you’re not.
While this misconception is common, it’s something Williams would like to see dissipate in the future. He’s already seen a shift in the next generation of poets, namely Shaki, a young artist who’d gone through the Deep Center’s Block by Block and Slam programs.
Two years ago, they performed apoemabout anxiety. “It was just the way that they personified anxiety,” says Williams, awe evident in his tone. “It was very different from the typical spoken word — the cadences, the tone of voice,
way it was structured. It was different because it took risks.”
This keen eye and ear, of course, spills into his own work. Even after winning Grand Champion, he recognizes that “The Sound of Surrender” isn’t a poem performing linguistic backflips with a quill-tipped pen.
“I’m not one of those people that diminishes their art or looks down on it, but I can also recognize it’s not the most literary piece,” says Williams. “It’s really just a list, but it’s done with enough stylistic flair and emphasis that it has an impact.”
Williams explains that most of his poems are lists in disguise, connecting the form to how his brain works through creative problem-solving, jumping from idea to idea. However, this poem was the first time he “stripped away the poetic parts of it and just did [something] almost like a grocery list.”
Despite this simple list translating into national recognition for Williams, he hopes, more than anything, that it makes the young people he teaches proud to share space with him. “It adds some type of weight to your name when a young person steps into either a classroom or workshop space,” Williams says. “They can take some pride and be like, ‘Oh, I’m being taught by someone.’”
For Do Savannah