Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
He left her Blindfolded in the middle of the forest Her hands outstretched searching into nothingness Into emptiness Into darkness
By Dharrsheena Raja Segarran4 years ago in Poets
I swore to let this die with me. I swore to never let anyone else find out the truth behind what really happened between us.
By 'Lissa Stufflestreet4 years ago in Poets
She was always rushing here, there and everywhere And I cannot help but wonder where she rushes too, To the next barrier, the next argument, her next death
By Colleen Millsteed 4 years ago in Poets
Sometimes she feels like furniture. It’s not entirely uncomfortable. It often feels quite necessary. Some days she is the overstuffed armchair that’s been there as long as you can remember. She is where you curl up when you’re sad and cold. You pick absently at the stuffing that is escaping the hole in the arm. It takes your mind from what bothers you. The familiar feel of the fabric on your cheek, catches your tears until you fall asleep and then wake up feeling drained, but warm and better.
By Waldo4 years ago in Poets
I'm not shy, I'm reserved. I'm not shy, I'm hidden. I am not shy, I am actually quiet, I mean quite loud in my head. It is only when it comes to getting it out of my head when it becomes a problem.
By Ash4 years ago in Poets
I have climbed this mountain so long, I can no longer see the ground. The skies seem to far, and yet I can imagine my fingertips in the clouds.
By Josey Pickering4 years ago in Poets
The monsters in my closet are growing cobwebs. They cannot compete with the monsters of my mind. Thoughts so intrusive,
I guess I should get accepted Before taking a chest pic Getting a tat or my arms did For I say or how I've always been Getting disrespected
By Noivad's Meops4 years ago in Poets
When I first started writing for A Poem A Day In February I was all alone then. I would write one rhyme a day. That was my purpose when I was trying to rhyme more. I was interested in writing rap songs. I wanted rhyming to be second nature then.
By Denise E Lindquist4 years ago in Poets
For most the day would start when the alarm clock begins sounding off as well as buzzing; for me I was still awake from the previous nights partying.
By Arthur Walton4 years ago in Poets
Today I feel the need to reach out and become the thing that I am not So to become that which I should be That which I must be
By Novel Allen4 years ago in Poets
Goodnight brain Why am I up again? Who's the better Alfred? Michael Gough or Michael Caine? I don't care Michael Keaton is forever my Bruce Wayne
By Atomic Historian4 years ago in Poets
