Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
The cold, clear breeze pulls me back in Ashen embers beneath an icy sky I never even thought I’d get this far And now in the heart of December,
By Michael Clark4 years ago in Poets
How can I write about coming home when I’m already there? You see I AM home for 2 doves and a raven which fly away each day
By Shirley Twist4 years ago in Poets
Herbie Baby, **Let me speak to you for a moment... **Your matinee-idol-looks brighten my day with the intensity of a 12-year-old boy-band fanatic meeting Justin Bieber for the first time...
By Tiffany Gordon4 years ago in Poets
What if I have no home? Since the age of nine I’ve searched for a place of my own, a refuge that overtime would allow me to retreat from the world.
By Crystal Rivas4 years ago in Poets
Something’s lurking in the woods, waiting with an insatiable hunger and thirst… Check your watch Watch your clock It’s getting closer to the hour
By Stormy Reign Valentine 4 years ago in Poets
Poetry is this page A style that never seems to age Here words may rhyme Or simply be in time Listen to these words
By Raven Diamond4 years ago in Poets
The Ocean beautiful and bright Is such a calming sight The waves crashing against the sand In tune with nature's band
You were there when I nearly drowned in my neighbor's pool when I was five and no one else was around… You were there to calm me down when my nerves got the best of me, and I wet my pants, then fainted during my 5th grade graduation speech…
The feeling is unmistakable, can you hear them calling? From halfway across the world I hear it, the screams of those already falling.
By Jason Ray Morton 4 years ago in Poets
So many miles. So many more. I'm leaving behind What I've left before. I'm looking for something I haven't yet found.
By CL Fisher4 years ago in Poets
Sweet and lilting laughter, that fill four walls of any empty space From outdoors- a little one runs toward you; you scoop them up and clean their dirty face
By Andrea Cummings4 years ago in Poets
My Home I open the door, remove my coat and feel the weight begin to slip I shake it, hang it and remove my hat, almost ready to greet my cat
By Vince Hall4 years ago in Poets
