slam poetry

Slam poetry: that magical mix of rhythm and rhyme.

Slip up
Slipping, sliding, and spiralling right out of consciousness, Controls gone for a walk, Taking with it all those sensibilities that to us we hold so dear,
By George Dallimore5 years ago in Poets
My Body is a Temple
My body is a temple, my eyes are the door. Watch where you step, there are cracks in my floor. My body is a temple, my soul is the key.
By Brittany Fenwick5 years ago in Poets
My life: Crazy and Beautiful
My mom, God bless her soul. She worked hard to raise me. Baby daddy leaving her six months pregnant. Just to go smoke meth with his friends.
By Madison Busch5 years ago in Poets
Into the land
I don’t know fancy flowing words nor like to pretend to know much. I don’t speak with eloquence or with words of old English.
By KC Taylor5 years ago in Poets
There's No Doubt
There’s no doubt We’re not getting out alive. So, what is this life for? Why are we so vulnerable? There’s no doubt, I don't understand.
By Étienne Massicotte5 years ago in Poets
Anxiety, A Slam Poem
Anxiety, It’s butterflies in your stomach, Heart is beating 1000 miles a minute. Brain, 1000 thoughts. I’m nervous doing simple things,
By Jackson5 years ago in Poets
Moods
It was in a moment that I realized, My mood switched for you. I could be in another world, fighting a war. When you arrived, it was solitude, serenity...
By Christina Cantero5 years ago in Poets
Quarantine Dream Scenes
Stagnant I find myself torn seized in your hold whilst reaching for aims beyond it unsure and trembling I beg of you to step
By Molly Caitlin Long5 years ago in Poets
OMG!
I don't get it! How can it be? What the hell is wrong with me? I worked on that "Challenge" every day! And long through the night.
By Pamela Walsh-Holte5 years ago in Poets
Mourning Routine
Demons live beneath my bed, their dry-rot fingers snatching half formed phrases tumbling from my mouth like snores. Taking half-finished files away before I revise them, to share with goblin cousins living behind bedroom mirrors and sliding closet doors; who snicker at mismatched socks and colors, “Don’t mix black with brown,” they say. As the demons sneak under bed skirts and around clothes hampers to steal interview answers and sketched out canvases stacked in corners, popped like chips into stretched wide lips and black hole gullets to join half-digested research rabbit holes and midnight story scribbles.
By Audrey Larkin5 years ago in Poets
STRUGGLES
Growing up with struggles It left my mind puzzled And now I’m In a tangle By looking from each angle All I need Is a cuddle
By Haychie_Artist5 years ago in Poets
Erase you
if I could have one wish I’d erase you from my memory I am left here Thinking about every possible moment we had together
By Ava Marie5 years ago in Poets