Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
There was a road that no one knew it went, As long as your eyes can see. The road stretched for miles on end, You are driving at full speed.
By Carla SofiiLove Garcia 5 years ago in Poets
Color? What do you mean by color? Do you mean growing up with the constant confusion of being called too white by my black family and too black for my white?
By Naomi Walker5 years ago in Poets
When I play my guitar I write in Harmonics, all to reverb and resonate To produce a spectrum of the inward eye to illustrate
By memoirs of A moustache5 years ago in Poets
I look at you, so vibrant and beautiful Colorful like a rainbow with a personality that lights up an entire room. Your smile strobes brightly everywhere you walk.
By Claire Sully5 years ago in Poets
The canvas awaits for the colours to choose. Gems of all the beautiful colours, nothing to loose. The brush paints a melody, portraying me.
By Cathy Deslippe5 years ago in Poets
Youâre only as important as going viral. The only thing Iâve spread, are my tendencies to spiral. Iâm infected with blue. A color that carries with it many hues.
By Anna Guist5 years ago in Poets
Parent to Child. Child of light crowned in splendour, glowing with ever-present glory, darkness now shades your lamp & you dwell within a world of shadows.
By ROSLYN WILLIAMS5 years ago in Poets
Hey Dad, how you doing? Thought I would check in & say âHappy Fatherâs Dayâ to be. I know it is not my time to be here yet, on the outside, but saw you & mum spying on me from out there looking at how I am doing.
My desire, My intensity, Could really fire up your destiny, if you just let me in. Being vulnerably close, is where we begin.
By Quinlin Kennedy 5 years ago in Poets
I sit at my table âŠâŠ alone. I sip the warmth from my late night cup, alone. I wait for your presence to sit next to me, but you donât arrive,
Refraction On sunny days, It's the first thing you see. It's the light held in the harp strings. It's the red, the blue, the clear.
By Vicki Rempel5 years ago in Poets
BEAUTY WITHIN THE BEAST It was inhabited. It had been for years. There were many rooms, some full of light.
