Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
Energy wafting Transforming streets Baron Oozing Colors Painting Those Who walk After Floats Lit up Lamp posts Steeling back
By Bella Baba Perogies4 years ago in Poets
Put down your gun There’s no need to run The world is an ugly place And that’s something that we can escape We don’t know who to trust anymore
By Pierce Mead4 years ago in Poets
Life. Pt I. it is a tuesday at 3:30 thought: the 2-12-19. it is a plot twist that you don’t see coming. it is the anticlimax
By Mira Goldstein4 years ago in Poets
YOU WERE SURROUNDED AS IF UNSAFE AND GUARDED AS PRECIOUS GOLD, YOUR INVITATION WAS CLEAR, AS BRIGHT AS THE SUN AND BOLD. A SLOW WINK OF A GLANCE AND OUR WORLDS INSTANTLY COLLIDE.
By V.4 years ago in Poets
A very smart man went for a walk and stopped in front of the not-so-subtle-puddle and asked, "Puddle, Puddle on the ground, am I the smartest man to be found?"
By Rowan Finley 4 years ago in Poets
Old Man Winston sat on a wall He taunted the children who walked by Their parents often heard them call He always escaped as he was so sly
By Dharrsheena Raja Segarran4 years ago in Poets
Would it be enough if I held all the truth? The knower of lies Is that the salve my soul seeks? Would that quiet me down and make me feel contentment inside?
By Brett Hamilton 4 years ago in Poets
They call me Momma These two kids But, Oh! They make me crazy— I’m hungry I’m thirsty Look at me Look— The toys are on the floor but who is gonna
By Maegan Heil4 years ago in Poets
I dare not dare you to wonder if your decision was right I dare not dare you to admit your slights I dare not to inquire your preferences
By Jeffrey Sparks4 years ago in Poets
Jonny Evans Bruised Rouge Rouge stained bruises reject the mask of squared shoulders deep voices strained as conformity smoulders
By Jonny Evans4 years ago in Poets
When I was born, the nurse took me to the back room. My father followed, a man in hot pursuit. He wanted to bathe me, as I was purely new.
By Thavien Yliaster4 years ago in Poets
what happens after the parade None through this flesh like her spirit made. Both smile and trouble in her eye, Shake her beauty with debate and sigh.
By Mashal Haroon4 years ago in Poets
