Sei sulla pagina 1di 10

Declamation is the delivering of a speech that was written and delivered by another person.

A
competitor may choose any speech that was once delivered in public. NCFL rules call for specific
introductory material and a ten-minute time limit. The NCFL is the largest league in the United
States that offers Declamation as a category for competition; most local and state leagues adhere to
NCFL rules or slight variations on them.
From the official NCFL critique sheet (see link below):
"The speaker should convey the message in a sincere, honest and realistic attempt to recreate
the spirit of the original presentation. Although the style of delivery chosen by the speaker
should be judged in light of the purpose of the speech, artificiality is to be discredited. The
message should conveyed credibly and convincingly as if the words were the speaker’s own.
This event is an interpretation, not an impersonation."

Therefore, the purpose of the category is not to give an impersonation of the original speaker; it is
to interpret their words in an interesting and convincing manner that fits the individual competitor.
The competitor is only required to recreate the general "feel" of the original delivery, not mimic it.
"The introduction must name the work and author, provide necessary background
information and establish the mood."

"The speaker should be physically open to the audience and use body language that
invites the audience into the world of the declaimer. The speaker should vary facial
expression to
accentuate the natural flow of thoughts and feelings. The speaker should make eye contact
with the
audience. The speaker’s stance should be erect and controlled, without distracting
movements. Movement,
if used, should be motivated by transitions in thought or mood. Gestures should be visible,
effectively
used for emphasis, and varied."

Declamation Piece: The Spider and the Fly


Will you walk into my parlor?”
Said the spider to the fly.”
‘This the prettiest little parlor
That you ever spy.
“The way into my parlor
Is up at a winding stair
And I have many curious things
To show when you are there.”
“Oh, no, no!” said the fly
“To ask me is in vain;
For who goes up your winding stair.
Can never come down again .”
“Sweet creature,” said the spider.
“You’re witty and you’re wise;
How handsome are your gauzy wings;
How brilliant are your eyes!”
“I have a little looking glass
Upon my parlor shelf;
If you’ll step in one moment, dear,
You shall behold yourself”
“I thank you, gentle, sir,” she said,
“For what you’re pleased to say,
And bidding you good morning now,
I’ll call another day.”
The spider turned round about,
And went into his den
For well he knew the silly fly
Would soon be back again.
So he wove a subtle thread
In a little concern sly
And set his table ready
To dine upon the fly.
He went upon to his door again
And mercily did sing
“Come hither, hither pretty fly,
With the pearl and silver wings.
Your robes are green and purple
There’s a crest upon your head
Your eyes are like the diamond bright
But mine as dull as lead.”
Alas! Alas! How very soon
This silly little fly
Hearing his wily, flattering words
Came slowly flitting by.
With buzzing wings he hung aloft
Then near and nearer drew –
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes
And the green and purple hue.
Thinking only of her crested head –
Poor foolish thing! At last
Up jumped the cunning spider
And fiercely held her fast.
He dragged her up his winding stair.
Into his dismal den
Within his little parlor –
And the fly never came out again!
Declamation Piece “The Song of the Shirt”
By Lhenn on Sep 20, 2009 with Comments 0

With fingers weary and worn,


With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat, in unwomanly rags,
Plying her needle and thread–
Stitch! stitch! stitch!
In poverty, hunger, and dirt,
And still with a voice of dolorous pitch
She sang the "Song of the Shirt."

"Work! work! work!


While the cock is crowing aloof!
And work — work — work,
Till the stars shine through the roof!
It’s Oh! to be a slave
Along with the barbarous Turk,
Where woman has never a soul to save,
If this is Christian work!

"Work — work — work


Till the brain begins to swim;
Work — work — work
Till the eyes are heavy and dim!
Seam, and gusset, and band,
Band, and gusset, and seam,
Till over the buttons I fall asleep,
And sew them on in a dream!

"Oh, Men, with Sisters dear!


Oh, Men, with Mothers and Wives!
It is not linen you’re wearing out,
But human creatures’ lives!
Stitch — stitch — stitch,
In poverty, hunger, and dirt,
Sewing at once with a double thread,
A Shroud as well as a Shirt.

But why do I talk of Death?


That Phantom of grisly bone,
I hardly fear its terrible shape,
It seems so like my own —
It seems so like my own,
Because of the fasts I keep;
Oh, God! that bread should be so dear,
And flesh and blood so cheap!
"Work — work — work!
My Labour never flags;
And what are its wages? A bed of straw,
A crust of bread — and rags.
That shatter’d roof — and this naked floor —
A table — a broken chair —
And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank
For sometimes falling there!

"Work — work — work!


From weary chime to chime,
Work — work — work!
As prisoners work for crime!
Band, and gusset, and seam,
Seam, and gusset, and band,
Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumb’d,
As well as the weary hand.

"Work — work — work,


In the dull December light,
And work — work — work,
When the weather is warm and bright —
While underneath the eaves
The brooding swallows cling
As if to show me their sunny backs
And twit me with the spring.

Oh! but to breathe the breath


Of the cowslip and primrose sweet —
With the sky above my head,
And the grass beneath my feet
For only one short hour
To feel as I used to feel,
Before I knew the woes of want
And the walk that costs a meal!

Oh! but for one short hour!


A respite however brief!
No blessed leisure for Love or Hope,
But only time for Grief!
A little weeping would ease my heart,
But in their briny bed
My tears must stop, for every drop
Hinders needle and thread!"

With fingers weary and worn,


With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat in unwomanly rags,
Plying her needle and thread —
Stitch! stitch! stitch!
In poverty, hunger, and dirt,
And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, —
Would that its tone could reach the Rich! —
She sang this "Song of the Shirt!"

Declamation Piece “The Rich Man and the


Poor Man”
By Lhenn on Sep 12, 2009 with Comments 7

Food and money I give to you,


Why do you shout so mercily
When I give you your part?”
queried the rich man.
The poor man replied:
“Your question you cannot answer
For from pain and agony you are free,
But I have suffered and borne
The situation that I don’t like to be in.”
“That I couldn’t understand
Because Life for me is easy;
I take this and take that,
And life is just what I want it to be.”
consented the rich man.
“Comfort your mind, rich man,
with realities of death.
Your wealth I do not envy
For you can not buy
eternity with money.
If to live happily
is to live in hypocrisy,
Then I prefer to be silly
so I would be holy.
Life you love so much you will lose
And only then will you understand
What agony is,” the poor man shouted.
“Ha! Ha! Ha! You say so
For you desire this place of mine.
Indulgence you have clouded with reason
But I understand because of your situation.”
boastfully the rich man said.
Outraged the poor man answered:
“How pitiful the person blinded with pleasure;
No, you don’t care of our journey
That you have created through your greediness.
Come now, man of weak soul!
Your days are numbered for you to face
The Man of Love.
You may not cry now but later you will
When the chilling reality of the last judgment
Comes across your way;
Yes, then you will pity, but not for me.
Not for anybody else.
But for yourself only!
Yes, eat, drink, and be merry.
For tomorrow you shall die!

Declamation “Their Only Son”


By Lhenn on Sep 17, 2009 with Comments 2

you’re a hell of a cow-man, you are! You, and your yaller shoes!
How would you look a-straddle of a Roman-nosed cayuse !
Where would you be in a round-up, or a mix with the
Greasers, say ?
Where is the boy I loved – the feller I sent away?
He had some style about him! He was a boy! All through !
But he went away to college – and the college has sent back you !
I should have brung you a go-cart, not a real hoss to ride !
I reckon you’re God’s rebuke for me totin’ too damn much pride.
For I was plumb proud of you- I grieved when you went away;
I couldn’t say half the things I had in my heart to say;
And-What is that thing you’re wearin’? A wrist watch! Holy cats!
And what are them white things on you? What is it you call ‘em, spats .
And why are your pants so tight? And why don’t they reach your shoes ?
Gee ! But you would play hell on the back of a wild cayuse !
And when your poor mother sees you-Climb onto your hoss and ride !
Don’t you see the town-folks lookin’ ? Come on an’ let’s get outside !
If we’d a-stayed there much longer someone would have
laughed, and then
I’d had to have started something I couldn’t undo again;
For you are my son-God help me! – and no one may laugh at you
And not have your father call him. This place we are comin’ to
Is where that there young school teacher was caught by that
Greaser band-
Oh, well, we won’t talk about that. I reckon you can’t understand
How a real he-man gets feelin’-Hold up! What is that ahead?
It’s the same band! Ridin’ for us! God! Look at ‘em ride and spread!
Your hoss hasn’t had no rider-he’s fresh as he started out!
Don’t ever take time to look when you get him turned about,
But ride him like hell to town, and get out the posse–quick.
Tell them to make the river and head off the band! I’ll stick.
My hoss couldn’t make the distance ahead of that rush no how-
And I never turned back on a Greaser! And I ain’t beginnin’ now!
When it’s safe and the fight is over, come back where I am, and by
The Greasers I’ve sent to hell you’ll see how a man can die.
Tell your mother I thought about her-And give him the spurs and ride!
Don’t you see them cut tin’ around us? Oh, God! With a he-man I’d
Go through ‘em like hell a-poppin’! Go on! Make your get-away!
What’s that you are sayin’ to me? Made up your mind to stay?
You have ? Shoot your hoss then! Shoot him! Here! Let me !
That’s the how!
That’s it, get down behind him! Now for my own hoss! Now!
What’s that you are handlin’ that way, and boldin’ so tight- my son?
That one of them automatics? I’ve beard of that kind of gun!
I wonder if you can use it-Hi-golly! You got that cuss !
I wish that your ma could see us! You bet she’d be proud of us!
I’m strong for the old six-gun, son-Sho! That went a little high!
I guess they have got your father-feels like a broken thigh-
You got that one’s hoss that time! And I got the rider – dead!
Say! We will go ridin’ bell-ward with half of that band ahead!
And if your poor ma could see us-You got ‘im! You got ‘im! She
When they have found us I reckon will be proud of her boy and me!
What’s that? We ain’t got ‘em running’? The posse! And just in time!
I reckon they’ll have to tote me; I ain’t in no shape to climb
On a hoss; but, son, ride by me, I’m proud of the way you done!
And your mother will be proud of you. The lord bas give us a son!
And if the spats you are wearin’ and the pants you have on suit you
I’m for ‘em! From bell to breakfast! And I’m for the wrist watch too !
And the boys that’s riding’ for us bas got to outfit like that,
With spats and skin-tight britches, and wrist-watch and dinky hat!

Declamation Piece: It Is Raining


By Lhenn on Dec 07, 2009 with Comments 3

It is raining.
Where would you like to be in the rain?
Where would you like to be?
I’d like to be on a city street
Where the rain comes driving down
Trying to make things neat
As it washes the houses, roof and wall
The taxis, buses, cars, and all.
That’s where I’d like to be in the rain
That’s where I’d like to be.
It is raining.
Where would you like to be in the rain?
Where would you like to be?
I’d like to be in a tall tree top
Where the rain comes dripping drop, drop, drop, drop,
Around on every side –
where it wets the farmers, the barns, the pig.
the cows, the chickens, both little and big.
Where it batters and beats on a field of grain.
And makes the little birds hide from the rain.
That’s where I’d like to be in the rain.
That’s where I’d like to be.
It is raining.
Where would you like to be in the rain?
Where would you like to be?
I’d like to be on a ship at sea
Where everything’s wet as can be
And the waves are rolling high
Where sailors are pulling the ropes and singing
And winds in the rigging and salt’s sprays stinging
And round us sea gulls cry
On a dipping, skimming ship at sea.
That’s where I’d like to be in the rain.
That’s where I’d like to be.

Declamation “The Champion”


By Lhenn on Sep 17, 2009 with Comments 2

In the vast expanse of a timeless place


Where Silence ruled the outer space
Ominously towering it stood
The symbol of a spirit war
Between the one named Lucifer, and the Morningstar, the ultimate of good.
Enveloped by a trillion planets
Clean as lightning, and hard as granite
A cosmic coliseum would host the end,
Of the war between the lord of sin and death
And the omnipotent creator of man’s first breath
Who will decide, who forever will be…..
The audience for the fight of the ages was assembled and in place.
The angels came in splendor from a star.
The saints that had gone before were there, Jeremiah, Enoch, Job.
They were singing the song of Zion on David’s harp.
The demons arived, offensive and vile, cursing and blaspheming God
Followed by their trophies dead and gone.
Hitler, Napoleon, Pharoh, Capone, tormented, vexed, and grieved
And waiting for their judgment from the throne.
Then a chill swept through the mammoth crowd
And the demons squealed with glee
As a sorid, vulgar, repulsive essence was felt.
Arrogantly prancing, hands held high, draped in a sparkling shroud,
Trolled by demons, Satan ascended from Hell.
Then Satan cringed, the sinners groaned, the demons reeled in pain
As as swell of power like silent thunder rolled.
With a surge of light beyond intense illuminating the universe,
In resplendent glory appeared the Son of God.
Then a persona, yes, extraordinaire appeared in center ring.
God the Father will oversee the duel.
Opening the Book of Life, each grand stand hushed in awe
As majestically he said, “Now, here’s the rules:
He’ll be wounded for their transgressions, bruised for iniquities.”
When he said, “By His stripes they’re healed,” the devil shook.
He said, “Sickness is my specialty – I hate that healing junk.”
God said, “You shut your face – I wrote the book.”
Then the Father looked at His only son and said,
“You know the rules. Your blood will cleanse their sin and calm their fears.”
Then he pointed His finger at Satan and said,
“And I know you know the rules,
You’ve been twisting them to deceive my people for years.”
Satan cried, “I’ll kill you Christ! You will never win this fight.”
The demons wheezed, “That’s right, there ain’t no way.”
Satan jeered, “You’re dead meat Jesus, I’m gonna bust you up tonight.”
Jesus said, “Go ahead, make my day!”
The bell, the crowd, the fight was on, and the Devil leaped in fury.
With all his evil tricks he came undone.
He threw his jabs of hate and lust, a stab of pride and envy,
But the hands that knew no sin blocked every one.
Forty days and nights they fought and Satan couldn’t touch Him.
Now the final blow saved for the final round.
Prophetically Christ’s hands came down and Satan struck in vengeance.
The blow of death fell Jesus to the ground.
The devils roared in victory, the saints shocked and perplexed
As wounds appeared upon His hands and feet.
The Satan kicked Him in His side and blood and water flowed
And they waited for the ten count of defeat.
God the Father turned His head. His tears announcing Christ was dead.
The ten count would proclaim the battle’s end.
The Satan trembled through his sweat in unexpected horror yet,
As God started the count by saying, “…10…”
Hey wait a minute God,
“…9…”
Stop, you’re counting wrong,
“…8…”
His eyes are moving…
“…7…”
His fingers are twitching…
“…6…”
Where’s all this light coming from…
“…5…”
He’s alive
“…4…”
Oh no…
“…3…2…”
Oh yes
He has won!
He has won!
He’s alive forevermore, He is risen, He is Lord.
He has won!
He has won!
He’s alive forevermore, He has risen, He is Lord.
Proclaim the news in every tongue, through endless ages and beyond.
Let it be voiced from mountains loud and strong,
Captivity has been set free, salvation bought for you and me,
Cause Satan is defeated and Jesus is THE CHAMPION!

Potrebbero piacerti anche