Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
Fasted hands waiver in the decay. Bruised purple pools beneath it's skin. The expanse lifts me from my waist to witness it’s fantastical horror.
By Louise R.5 years ago in Poets
Bow String Pull Rosined string tickled to taut expectation waiting to glide against silent steel; contact coaxing magical metallic voices
By Gay Writing Quill5 years ago in Poets
You have to move forward in the world Because no one else will Keep pushing yourself or time will remain still Make efforts to get where you want to be
By WriteOutLOud5 years ago in Poets
I am an artist, a writer, a poet, sometimes a performer when the world condones it. I write, because poetry is the only healthy way emotions seem to process for me.
By Lucy Perrin5 years ago in Poets
I often find myself thinking lots of different thoughts From who and what and how and pure luck that I was able to get up
By Dog5 years ago in Poets
Poems are a piece of art A picture painted with words Created in the readers mind A poem takes the reader places
By Maria Kalafatis5 years ago in Poets
There once was a girl named Ginger who enter the world to see what she could do life was thrown at her she learned her lessons and knew
By Karen 5 years ago in Poets
To many loves have been lost Say we won but what a cost Different time in a different place Peace and love is what we need to chace
By Marty West5 years ago in Poets
A poem begins with a single thought whispered in the ear Of a poet small In a place remote In a voice serene and clear.
By Linda Rivenbark5 years ago in Poets
Use two hands for this ride I can take BIG DIC (Deliberately Intriguing Conversation) but only if you can handle Wet PUS (Phenomenal Undivided Sentiment). I want to come to a unanimous understanding of the minds and reach a point of climax without even being near you. There’s a depth in conversation I desire to reach that I need to ride in a particular manner. Understanding I have to start slow not to go too fast that an eruption occurs prematurely. Taking note to keep quiet so I can hear each breath and connect to each stroke of this BIG DIC. Careful to know when to switch positions for a deeper profound insight to where this deliberate intriguing conversation is taking me. DAMN BIG DIC you feel so good but it’s a rarity and often not used correctly….so I must admit I’m scared. Hard to find someone that wants to get out of shallow waters with you and not mind coming out soaking wet. I have something special to give that I’m just not willing to share with anyone. It’s this WET PUS! It’s phenomenal and unique, given to one not all, and comes with sentiment aka love. WET PUS can’t be found just anywhere but once you have it you are sure not to let it go to waste. Now go clean up you have something on your face.
By JNSQ5 years ago in Poets
Swept the morn gentle rays. Chill of stone, crisp cold, wooden house creek. Gentle crash of soothing wave, seek home top misty sky.
By Dan5 years ago in Poets
A hidden depth. Seeking stable ground. 'Twas a locked and hidden gem. It so frail broke its twine wood cage. Like bird new upon wind, found foot
