Slam poetry: that magical mix of rhythm and rhyme.
This is just a free right to try to capture my thoughts They've been flying around space for way too long I've been holding back for way to
By Mr. Poetic5 years ago in Poets
often I am red, alight with anger, no different than the blood on my hands, the same shit flowing down the streets, winding through the grooves,
By ThOT5 years ago in Poets
Indigo paint covers the hood of my skull My inner artist wants to come out and play Drawing figurines and cherry blossom landscapes of whimsical places
By DonJuan Carter-Woodard5 years ago in Poets
If colors described the best words . Which hue would you use to say “I love you “ Or if I gave you everything in the world plus a canvas ,
By Cynthia Mcgee5 years ago in Poets
Windows to the soul buried long; Fingerprints of both vision and memory. Colour - years since set, do not think it to be wrong.
By Lucy Cunningham5 years ago in Poets
Red Saw it before I ran Had to run It wasn't your red It wasn't my red But his crimson red The last thing he ever painted
By Zelia Fogelanger 5 years ago in Poets
I Am Black They say Black is a void it holds no color To this I disagree Black is a color that color is me. I Am Black Jamaica Black
By Pamella Allen5 years ago in Poets
His reflection dances within the rim of her crystal clear bottle, one of which once contained a liquid of coppery red. Though all that is left of the blood colored substance,
By Addisyn Hendrick5 years ago in Poets
On the other side of the rainbow, There is no pot of gold. Just the hope of being accepted, Is what you should behold. But just like the rainbow,
By Aryanna Carter 5 years ago in Poets
I tell people I'm split in half. The polars of this brain. The sexuality of this soul. "Can you tell me how the red feels?" I stop for a second.
By Shaghayegh Ghezelayagh5 years ago in Poets
