Travis Watkins knew he was destined to work with verbiage since the third grade. His first memorable piece was “Turkeybot”, a short story about a turkey robot that scolded Americans on Thanksgiving for celebrating genocide. On Feb. 28, Campus Activity Board (C.A.B.) and the Poetry Club brought the 26-year-old slam poet and former Division I football player to the stage in Bryan Auditorium.

Watkins performed several original pieces of poetry that dealt with themes of race, gender, family, love, loss and religion. In addition to explaining the art of slam poetry, Watkins also spoke about working with Teach for America, playing college football, and growing up with his father in prison.

“Slam,” or aggressive spoken-word poetry, is often performed in competitions. During competition, those with the most proficiency in crafting rhymes and metaphors advance to the next round and continue performing. Rap battles are similar to Slam poetry, except in Slam competitions poets do not trade insults back and forth in order to win.

“Slam poetry is like sex, the more you put into it, the more you get out of it,” Watkins said. “Sometimes I cry during competitions, but I always try to keep a positive note to my poems.”

After explaining the art of slam poetry, Watkins began his first piece, “I Apologize.” In this poem Watkins sarcastically apologized for not being an irresponsible and unsuccessful male. “Sorry for living up to expectations,” Watkins said. “Sorry for loving my wife, having two jobs, and hustlin’ poetry.”

Watkins’ next poem, “My Fears for You,” is less about him and more about his football teammates at the University of Kansas. It expressed Watkins’ concern about black athletes’ misconceptions of success and their not graduating college. In one stanza, Watkins accused some of his peers of “trading plantations for Playstations.”

Watkins dedicated his third poem, “For Michael, For Everything,” to his brother. As a biracial male, Watkins expressed how societal conventions concerning race can be both mentally and physically detrimental. Watkins also spoke about how his brother’s racial identity crisis led to nervous breakdowns during middle and high school.

The tone of Watkins’ performance changed when he began his fourth piece, “For the Taking,” dedicated to his son, Reese-Emory. Watkins speculated about the questions his son will ask as he grows up and becomes an adolescent. He encouraged his son to excel and live life successfully. In the final line he said, “I whisper power to my son, the world is yours for the taking.”

Watkins’ fifth poem, “Teach Him Well,” is about a colleague that died from a brain aneurism while working alongside him with Teach for America. Watkins’ colleague left behind her three sons when she passed, and “Teach Him Well” presumably expresses what the boys’ mother would have wanted them to be taught. Watkins concluded the poem by saying, “Lessons aren’t learned they’re lived/Give him the deep end and tell him to swim.”

His final two poems, “In Flight” and “Your Village,” were newer pieces that focused less on rhyme and more on imagery and metaphor.

“Your Village” praised the support he has received from his family members during times of hardship, and “In Flight” showed his devotion to his wife.

After he finished “In Flight,” Watkins received a standing ovation from the audience. Junior C.A.B. representative Danisha Jinnah was pleased with the crowd’s enthusiastic response.

“C.A.B. is looking to do things for the community that are more meaningful than just concerts,” Jinnah said.

First-year John McAllister’s reaction to Watkins’ set pleased C.A.B. representatives.

“The performance was very emotional,” McAllister said. “His themes were universal. Anyone can relate to his poetry.”

Sophomore John Lyons agreed with McAllister on the universality of Watkins’ work. Lyons was also impressed by Watkins’ passion.

After his performance, Watkins encouraged audience members to pursue Slam poetry and other forms of art on their own. He also reassured newcomers to Slam poetry that being nervous about your work is normal.

“I don’t have stage fright, but I think you should always have a little anxiety,” Watkins said, “If you don’t have anxiety then how much do you really care about what you’re doing?