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Poets in Motion

We’re celebrating National Poetry Month with our first poetry contest. Submit your most artistic, emotional, or hilarious original poetry inspired by movement—whatever that means to you. Use #VocalNPM to enter.

Wrecked
I feel the flowers blossom through my fingertips dripping with the sweet aroma of prose's perfume. It's pushing through the pain and flowing like blood coming from a wound. Scattered pages in the writer's garden, telling the magical sparrows all of the stories that are being chiseled as a tattoo on my thirsty skin. Etched words in an old book, it has become my oxygen. My lungs gasp for more, shouting into the starry night, give me more of your holy parchment and I promise always to share it. Use me for I am Your blossoming vessel that has been wrecked by poetry.
By Georgina Melendez7 years ago in Poets
Stray Papers
Stray joint papers that never got rolled Take out that was left out in the cold Mixed feelings at this empty sight Stirring in the emotions of- a fight?
By Alisha Schofield7 years ago in Poets
A Crash Course With Life
A crash course with life, Is like birth and death alike. For moments come and moments pass, Their gravity hitting like falling mass.
By Bianca Wargo7 years ago in Poets
My Form
My skin is tight And dry. I feel it stretch As I turn over in bed. My bones straining To break through And escape. Dismantling their host.
By Nick McConville7 years ago in Poets
Move
Move Speaks the drumroll to your heart Beat rhythmic buddump buddump, movements fluid like the synthetics of the blood coursing through you
By Rico Mitchell7 years ago in Poets
Tripping
Tripping Tripping,tripping,fall,fall Trying to catch that crazy ball Because you thought you knew it all Thinking, blinking now your sinking
By Tiffany Harry7 years ago in Poets
The Last
Panoplies of belated perturbation amass to vitiate the fastidious organization of thought, attrition consumes before wrought, as didactic misfortunes become emanations of the sort,
By Adam Hans7 years ago in Poets
Turned to Stone
A year to the day since I began my quest Did I finally concede defeat By the tranquil pool I lay my weary body And acknowledged my failures.
By Dale Hurst7 years ago in Poets
The Beautiful Win
Her entire being is shrouded in Danger. She walks with a sense that would say That she is primed for the beautiful win. Never does she linger too long and stay.
By Skyler Saunders7 years ago in Poets
It's 2:00 PM and I'm Still in Bed
I’m thinking of my mom and what she thinks of me. Am I some fly-ass negro, or is she ashamed of me? It’s funny it’s the first time I’ve thought of this before.
By The Disruptors7 years ago in Poets
Pain Is a Mother
The way a child learns is through an act of pain In such a way the loss is minimum but theres so much to gain They do say pain is after all one of the worlds best instructors
By Matt Rivera7 years ago in Poets
Our Window
Written in the Months of February and March 2019 Moment in Time Does this rose represent my apology? Petals that bleed true–
By Dan Styles7 years ago in Poets