Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
Sometimes people will make you feel at home While others times they will make you feel More alone than ever before. On the same page
By Tahlia Hunter4 years ago in Poets
The cracked wall corner that reminds you of moving the sofa in. The exposed drywall tape of that closet you added, but haven’t yet finished.
By Brandy Pigeon4 years ago in Poets
Home is surely where the heart is: in the body yet of the mind. Where lost souls seek and those soul searching, find. There was a time when I thought home was something to be found in the physical,
By Sha'ron Anderson4 years ago in Poets
Take my hand and come with me, I want to teach you about my ADHD. I need you to know, I want to explain, I have a very different brain.
By Dawn Earnshaw4 years ago in Poets
Wandering the streets of the shire, Slinking slightly through lamp light My worldly possessions, my personal effects
By Rhys Toms4 years ago in Poets
Home a place of unconditional love Where worlds meet to help to cultivate a new one Home a place of hope Where two souls meet to provide encouragement and growth
By Cedric Fadero4 years ago in Poets
Cardboard boxes line the walls With old tape marks, tattered and worn A life packed into these empty halls Stacked high within the moving van
By Anna May4 years ago in Poets
hold me as if tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed put aside the greed of letting go and being free we can’t have forever so we cherished today
By Karissa Brown4 years ago in Poets
The Ebb and Flow of Freedom Home is where fair dialogue is allowed. Imagine the below as a dialogue between two people.
By Bhumika Andersen4 years ago in Poets
WARNING: Some content might be disturbing for some readers.. Grasping, CLENCHING the top of the steering wheel, Flashing street lights with broken bulbs-
By Grz Colm4 years ago in Poets
Dumbo’s long ears are the cause of derision, But do you not see, you make the decision? You’re ‘complicit in your own subjugation’ -
This is an honest picture of what it is often like for me to return to where I once was... Hell, I thought as the cabbies
By Kendall Defoe 4 years ago in Poets
