performance poetry
Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
Season 25 Recap
The Main protagonist betrayed by a friend, with disrespect and ignorance. A change of location, A change within his circle,
Trey StevensPublished 7 years ago in PoetsMarriage Vows
You don't love me. Pause. Sigh. Tear. Yea, I hear you when you profess to me when you think I’m sleepin' And I see you every. single. solitary time you text me “my love”
Imam Qadriyyah Mabel-DorothyPublished 7 years ago in PoetsNow I See Why Folx Act Petty
when someone steals from you and you don't have proof you can't make as many moves as you'd like you can only accuse them so many times
Imam Qadriyyah Mabel-DorothyPublished 7 years ago in PoetsA Fight Against Time
“I need food…but not for myself,” Fear was the only emotion the young man felt. He slung on his bow, he picked up his spear,
Reality Check
I can hear it. A woman calls my name A child cries in pain Unknown friends encourage me It's not real. I can see it.
Varian MoyerPublished 7 years ago in PoetsAdvice
The greatest advice that’s ever been given to me was that masks will eventually smother the wearer as if I weren’t already drowning in a sea
Kyle GrangerPublished 7 years ago in PoetsEpisodic Memory
It's a filter, can't you see? Hiding eyes and stealing smiles, I do believe it works, can you tell? Removing thoughts and replacing hearts,
Matthew ReganPublished 7 years ago in PoetsHot Box Tree House
I’ve hidden myself away in a plume of smoke, deep in the crevasse of quantum mechanics. The void in between choice and not. Action and inaction. Behind a shrubbery at the fork in the road. My shell—this burning bush of a womb, I’ve hotboxed myself into a treehouse above my own decisions.
Joke MarfskyPublished 7 years ago in PoetsAbandoned
This house is old It creaks and sings its song Withered and wilting Like roses of long past lovers Echoes with the voices of ghosts
Rauce The-saucePublished 7 years ago in PoetsThe Legend of Two Golden Guns Pedro
Straw wide hat and a thin mustache The charm is emphasized by his evil laugh Flicker a smile with a golden tooth Old worn pistols beside a flute
Alexander CandlinPublished 7 years ago in PoetsI Cut My Hair Today.
There's not a day this month I have not slouched over gazing at the strands of my hair that hang over my shoulders reaching far down to my waist.
Victims
By David S Avner aka Sevasdog Evil deeds heart of man, Soul of a woman I don’t understand What makes us evil What makes us good
David AvnerPublished 7 years ago in Poets