Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
Do you wish to embark? Are you prepared for your last sunset? By nightfall, the hue of your pupils, will fade to black.
By House September 3 years ago in Poets
Fortitude sought me out today. I have danced with her before, I was consumed by her underneath the starless night. From a distance, I could hear my teardrops.
Flower Flawless In her mind She is far less than goddess ꙮꙮꙮ Shyness Stronger But they thought
By Marie Cadette Pierre-Louis3 years ago in Poets
Wasting the time Having a time Chasing the ghosts Playing with invisible toys ꙲꙲ ꙲꙲ ꙲ ꙲ ꙲ ꙲ ꙲ ꙲ ꙲꙲꙲꙲꙲꙲ ꙲ ꙲ ꙲ ꙲ ꙲꙲꙲꙲ ꙲ ꙲ ꙲ ꙲ ꙲꙲ ꙲ ꙲ ꙲ ꙲ ꙲꙲ ꙲ ꙲꙲ ꙲ ꙲ ꙲ ꙲ ꙲ ꙲
This is my tenth dark poem for Dharrsheena. The music is "Wall of Death" a cover of the Richard Thompson song about the circus attraction, not quite the same as my wall of death, but the title is the same and it is a wonderful song.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 3 years ago in Poets
Start writing...It wasn't my thing, this is ma talking Your father had his heart set on a Florida retirement so I went along
By David Parham3 years ago in Poets
being happy is something I’ve always wanted A constant state of it.. A satisfying feeling of being content and not as fragile as the next person to your right or your left (forever I want that feeling)
By Aubrie Belle 3 years ago in Poets
I asked my coworkers about what they find comfort in I’m not giving up in the last minutes of this challenge just yet, I have to do my best to try to win
By Thavien Yliaster3 years ago in Poets
As always, she leaves as she arrives: without ceremony. Her voice dry and deadpan laments how her hale dwarfed her son’s sickly stamina
By Keith Turnage3 years ago in Poets
The cap in my left hand is the door thrown open held stiff against thick-pressing wind RUSHING to meet my progress.
By P. M. Starr3 years ago in Poets
Today I cried 27 times Once for all of the different categories of my life I’m convinced I’m failing at Please don’t correct my grammar
By Alexandra Sedlak3 years ago in Poets
They ask me why I go Why would one want to stand in long lines Receiving pat downs hiding contraband hidden in their shoes
By Kathryn Wilkinson3 years ago in Poets
