Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
My Green Eyes by Donna Magnani-Convertino Ten thousand trees ten thousand more Not caught my eyes til furthermore Blanket of green, blades of grass Life slips us by while we are crass
By Donna Magnani-Convertino5 years ago in Poets
Tumbling through the red and into the light, a baby is born, a screaming delight, and at this starting point, we all do arrive
By Mel Sharpe 5 years ago in Poets
My favorite feature are my lips. They’re big and full and leave men transfixed as their minds wander to other lands… Travel with me…close your eyes and visualize
By Taishiana Tyson5 years ago in Poets
I am not pink on the outside. I am light blue like the color of the first pillow my mother gave me that I took to preschool
By Starchild (he/they)5 years ago in Poets
I love my wide nose My wide African nose No, it is not straight like an arrow Big Black African Nose It reminds me that I come from a land of diamonds and gold.
By Kemi Solanke5 years ago in Poets
Starting at a young age, I found something that made me go hmm. It was the thrill of reading poetry an being transported to other places seeing the imagery written by other people.
By Kia T Cooper-Erbst5 years ago in Poets
Iam yellow, bursting with energy and warmth, new and unassuming of lifes challenges. I am yellow, murky and muted, like wilted sunflowers seen through a dirty window, echoes of what used to be.
By Lily Mae Ryder 5 years ago in Poets
Yellow I love yellow. Yellow is me. My yellow though not mellow. It shines through me. Its radiant waves flows from the sun
By Lone Wolf 5 years ago in Poets
Don’t put me in your colour coded category. I live in a world that is free to blend and mix and move, to shape and contour the lines of my existence.
By Kimran Mahal 5 years ago in Poets
In the morning I am a soft yellow, With gleams of gold trying to shine out. A world of black pulling me back to sleep. During the day I am lilac.
By Sara Biro5 years ago in Poets
I am a kaleidoscope of colour - An ever changing Shape shifting spectrum. I am the violent violet of my fresh bruises
By Claire Tedstone5 years ago in Poets
I used to listen to the wind as I’d sit outside under the trees Instead of a scream or a fight and flee from the grasp of another day in my life.
By Amara Briony W. 5 years ago in Poets
