performance poetry
Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
Standing Ovation
It was always meant to be a tragedy. But your blissful ignorance added unexpected comedic twists. Brava! I never encountered someone who put infinite value into daydreaming, believing it’d come to fruition. I discovered, surprisingly, it only enhanced the build up for when the villain would leave her covered in scars; harsh reality is the only real hero. Reducing dreams to ashes and playing nightmares of what will never be. Huge fan! Fortunately for me, I’m close to the writer, so I can confidently inform you, fairy tales are out of your league. They were never written with you in mind. Unfortunately, for you and your desperate need of a happy ending…well, I don’t want to spoil the ending. I’ll give you two stars, a tip off the hat if you will, to acknowledge your commitment to the role. Pathetic as it may be and wow, sometimes unbearable to watch. Too hypnotized to look away from the car wreck. A wise person would’ve probably tossed in the towel, and accepted their traumatic defeat, but not you. Your blissful ignorance hung by a thread and your unexpected high pain tolerance could’ve been edited out of the script. But then I wouldn’t have felt your torment. I would’ve missed the comic relief as it presented an opportunity for refills and bathroom breaks. I am thankful I had enough to drink and didn’t feel the need to relieve myself. And all of those heartfelt wishes you made on falling stars,crossing your fingers that this time would work, expertly created great appreciation for your many painful disappointments. So much crying; never laughed so hard. Especially since those stars were falling to their deaths, only to then fade into nothing. Cease to exist. Kind of like you, desperately clinging onto your hope, to your faith, only to have them abandon you. What a beautiful scene! I bought front row seats to cheer you on as bits and pieces of you left a trail of blood on stage. Could almost touch it. The curtain fell hard only to shatter what was left of you. Encore! Pity, you thought you could rewrite the script. You’re no Edgar Allen Poe. And now here we are. Take a bow before you crumble. Death is a beautiful comedy. Your ignorance to accept the inevitable deserves a standing ovation.
By Leticia Williams (Tish)4 years ago in Poets
To Whom It May Concern
To the doctor and nurses who delivered me and immediately wrapped me in a pink blanket to lay on my mother’s chest. From the moment I was born, I was assigned the color pink. You assigned me this color to identify me as a girl. I was destined to love pink, Barbies, and unicorns - not because of my nature or because that was what I had chosen, but because that is what girls are supposed to like. Why would we like anything else? Girls must wear cute pink dresses with pink bows in their hair.
By Jessica Klein5 years ago in Poets
The Sound of My Mind
Who am I? I am an actor 🎭, a singer 🎤 , a songwriter , a passionate dreamer. Art is love and love is the heartbeat of life. Art is what keeps me inspired, what gives me life. As an actor, I want to embrace those strong inner messages that live inside a text , a character , a story and be able to communicate them to an audience in the best way possible. I have this gut feeling, this thing, that resonates through my whole body every single time I discover one of them, and then I immediately feel this sense of duty That I have towards them, as if the character itself appears in front of me and tells me “ Please, you have the essence of my soul on the palm of your hand , I can’t express it without you , so take good care of it”.
By Carmine Giangregorio5 years ago in Poets
