Slam poetry: that magical mix of rhythm and rhyme.
School morning Before the cocks crocks in the morning Before the sun arises in the morning When seprated from bed by the alarm of Azaan
By Shizza5 years ago in Poets
Foulest brute that stinks below, Why in this brown dost thou appear? For wouldst thou make a fouler show,
By Maiya Devi Dahal5 years ago in Poets
feet sinking in skips ripping out objects of interest when mike king and I were one person rocks in tube televisions
By Alastair Davie5 years ago in Poets
Cards, and swords, and a lady's love, That is a tale worth reading, An insult veiled, a downcast glove, And rapiers leap unheeding.
By prashant sapkota5 years ago in Poets
Not all disgraced, in that Italian town, The imperial German cowered beneath thine hand, Alone indeed imperial Hildebrand,
By shyam sapkota5 years ago in Poets
Phenomenal Woman by Pretty women wonder where my secret lies. I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
By Lubna Khan5 years ago in Poets
*Don't take the wrong turn* You might have a lot of *regrets* It might be very hard to *forget* You regret commiting those *mistakes*
By Muhammad Iqbal5 years ago in Poets
you want all that money rolling in waves, dime a dozen chill and can't wait for more, work from dawn till dusk to dig shallow graves
By Jillian Spiridon5 years ago in Poets
People should wear warning signs, you don’t get what you see A hey, “I’m a sack of messy shit, you’d do well to let me be.
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden5 years ago in Poets
Shock, illusion shattered. Guess friendship never mattered. You wove such a convincing tale, Hiding hatred behind a veil.
By Dee Meinville5 years ago in Poets
Patty’s Charcoal Drive-In by First job. In tight black shorts and a white bowling shirt, red lipstick and bouncing ponytail, I present
The Sleeper by At midnight, in the month of June, I stand beneath the mystic moon. An opiate vapor, dewy, dim, Exhales from out her golden rim,
