Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
His Last Wishes I watched the last fire fading tonight, its quiet light drifting softly through air, and it felt like the world learning to end,
By Marie381Uk 3 months ago in Poets
Changing Times The morning changes softly now, the light moves calm across my room, the world shifts gently under me, and time breathes quiet at my side.
Don’t Be Sorry Be You Do not shrink down to fit their hands, do not apologise for breath, you were not made to dim your light,
dear halo of hers, did she let her hair down tonight? is her duvet still grey? do her eyebrows still tell on her? i guess what i'm trying to say to you is that you see her in ways i don't anymore. you hover above her city the way you do mine, with pale indifference. you are the impartial witness to how her name still quivers in my mouth.
By Daniel K3 months ago in Poets
Dearest Moon, You who wear silver wisdom upon your skin, You who pull the tides and cradle the secrets of women I write to you with reverence,
By Cadma3 months ago in Poets
I am tired in ways the sun can never warm, bones humming like streetlights that never turn off. They call it resilience and strength
When Love Died When love died the room fell still, a quiet settled on the walls, and every breath felt heavy then, as if the air was learning grief.
The Matron (Voice of Authority) — The one who recalls the act of sealing. The Chorus of Daughters (Many Voices/Stars) — The echo of those who flow in rhythm with the Moon.
By Kristen Keenon Fisher3 months ago in Poets
The Man That Was Spooky as Can Be He walked the lanes when night was near, His eyes like glass, his voice unclear. A hat pulled low, his coat too wide,
The Hollow Who Mistook Care for Weakness A Mythic Protest OUTSTAGES CAFÉ PRODUCTION ADOBE FIREFLY He came with a smile and a borrowed book,
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 3 months ago in Poets
Ophelia my orchard What a beauty to behold I could look at you forever And it would never grow old. 🥀🥀 💗💗 🥀🥀
By Calvin London3 months ago in Poets
The Child Who Whispered to the Moon The child stood, bare feet on cold earth. Moonlight touched his face, silver and quiet.
