performance poetry
Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
Poetry
You know, poetry isn’t just another one of those things. Well. . . Maybe it is. Maybe it’s like that freshly brewed coffee at the start of your morning or maybe it’s like the rain that almost flooded your house last night. Yeah, there’s a bunch of maybes and if you couldn’t tell, they’re good and they’re bad, pretty and ugly. But that’s what poetry is; a jumbled mess of things that might not always make sense but come to light and click inside your brain. The gears will turn and there will always be parts that just stick with you like super glue on your fingertips. Now, what I’ve said in this tiny little thing might not even make any sense because there are just things we don’t understand and that’s okay. What I do know for a fact though is that’s why we have poetry; it’s to make sense of what we don’t know in our own ways or to know that we’re not alone and to get things out in one way or the other in the one way we know how.
By Jadelynn Onckelet8 years ago in Poets
I Pray to Myself 5 Minutes a Day
Mm, sometimes, I tell myself good things I struggle to believe or forget to keep in mind. Other times, I simply focus on my breathing and cycle through poses that center me. I've been doing it 5 minutes at a time; maybe that's all I'm good for. I burn a tea light to remind myself that serenity is not mindlessness so please, Ricky, please don't fall asleep, ha. I like to keep the old matches up to a certain point to show myself how well I've been doing: sticking to the schedule of giving praise to myself; to the temple my soul, my consciousness, inhabits.
By Ricky R.R.8 years ago in Poets
Jump
The day I went back to the place I once felt so happy. The place that filled me with happiness and laughter. Even to this day it does the exact same, but things are different now. The air is different, the smell, the sounds; it’s all wrong. I just don’t know how to fix this, I’m frozen with it running through my mind at high speed, I can’t capture a thought long enough to use it. I realize time doesn’t heal a thing, we just simply live with it. We’re given second chances but things are different this time around, It’s not the same as it once was. I stand on the edge wondering what went so wrong within that time? I feel the breeze against my face, I glance down to realize there’s nowhere left to go. Who knows what’s down there, not you. Not me. If I don’t take my chance now I’ll never know. I take one more look around the place I once felt so safe and take a deep breath, close my eyes and jump.
By Hannah-jo Marks8 years ago in Poets
Whirlpool
I often sit and wonder what it would be like now, but I instantly rush to push that thought aside. I’m sat with a million waves crashing through my brain and I’m allowing myself to drown, I lay my head back and just get caught in the drift and now I have no clue where I've ended up, I've just accepted it. This is how it is now. Constantly trying to grasp on to the only thing I have which is collapsing between my fingers, so transparent. Breathing in intoxicating myself with every thought, losing my mind with the same tune playing over and over telling me how to blackout, but I just can’t I’m frozen in time, whirlpooling around and around with no particular direction, I gaze amongst the stars and feel such peace so I choose to stay a little longer.
By Hannah-jo Marks8 years ago in Poets
