Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
The pull of a current. The moment when you are suspended in the air on the swing. The adrenaline pumping to the thump, thump, thump --------Tears brim in my eyes as if I drank tea too fast.
By Elliana Culppepper4 years ago in Poets
A time will come when you'll know the real me and not just the shield I put up to be what I wanted to be And when that time comes it'll be for you to decide
By Jason Ray Morton 4 years ago in Poets
I simply wonder briefly does he really love me the way that I love him... My craving for him develops further every day I can not communicate my grief...no one comprehends.
By Nazthekid4 years ago in Poets
Feels like I always follow Dolly’s routine by tumbling out of bed and head to the kitchen in order to pour myself a cup of ambition.
By Deborah Portillo4 years ago in Poets
Trial and error - denial and failure It paints itself across her floor Inadequacy near - she recoils in terror - Enough to leave your mind destroyed.
By Jerald Dean4 years ago in Poets
My Father once told me a story I felt was rather arbitrary When he had left the country to feed his family He spoke to me through the snowy mount we trekked:
By Octovo Libra 4 years ago in Poets
She is credulous and clueless...waiting for affection, needing to be cherished but she's looking through in every one of some unacceptable spots...
I missed you... I strolled past you and you looked longingly I know what you feel for me...I know what you need The grin that rests upon my face when I am with you
Once upon a time there was a royal family. We rappin’ bout these guinea pigs that’s how it’s gonna be. In the land of Old Guinea, the guinea pigs roam.
By Reagan Parker4 years ago in Poets
Do you like my outfit, bro? I wore red, white, and blue to pose in the mirror athletically. My coworker complimented my arms
By Joe Nasta | Seattle foodie poet4 years ago in Poets
Born an addict without a say, holding grief on a pedestal. To consume and be consumed, fed sadness through the womb. Twisted into DNA and engraved on each bone until the gravestone;
By Devon Judd4 years ago in Poets
The feeling was in the air A palpable sensation of terror How had it come so far that one can't remember who they are ***
