Poets in Motion
We’re celebrating National Poetry Month with our first poetry contest. Submit your most artistic, emotional, or hilarious original poetry inspired by movement—whatever that means to you. Use #VocalNPM to enter.
Shades of Blue
see i don't want to be your shades of blue i want to be the whole rainbow each color making you feel like the sun is exploding inside of you
Sober
This poem was a really hard one to write the last section for. I'd found the first two parts on one of my online accounts the other day and, knowing who it's about and what really happened, I decided to add to the original two sections I'd written almost two years ago now. The shift in thought is the particular focus I had in mind when writing this–a sort of growing up and moving on, realizing that yes, he could have chosen not to do what he did, but some choices I made gave him that opportunity to begin with. In some ways that very last line represents that. Reading it in context, I do mean to convey that he was sober at the time, but I also mean that I sobered up from the sort of daydream-like feelings I convinced myself I had at the time.
Bianca WargoPublished 5 years ago in PoetsAlways Remember
Searching through the files cabinet of my mind for the memories that I need to archive. The people and places I made them with- I’m leaving them behind and I’m going far away. I don’t know if I should let go and move on or hold on and be pried off. Standing there in a pool of tears surrounded by the cracking and crumbling tiles of pain and sorrow. Cloudy tears, intermixed with depression and bittersweet joy. Do I want to leave and begin again though I know remaining would be easy? A skirmish in my mind. I have no voice in the matter. My hands still clenching my beloved amidst the tugging to forget. It is inevitable. Will I return and remember. Should I risk pulling the hangnail off my tender, pulsating thumb? Is it worth it? To them, I would give all. Already have I carved out my beating heart and given it away to my beloved; what else would I lose. Back and forth in my tormented mind, searching through those files for the cause of this misfortune. Was it written in the stars? Is it destiny to be scraped off a car windshield when life crashes O so hard? My hand and feet have been tied together. I can only hope that I’m not forgotten. Distance is only a disadvantage for the weak. I must move on for how can one live with one foot there and the other here. Life is sorrow and bittersweet. New things will come and time will go on but I will always remember; there is no power anywhere that could cause me to forget.
Champion's Motion
Away from the problems you run? Really that's not how battles are won If you want to overcome Then you first must come There's no formula or potions
Bryceon DavisPublished 5 years ago in PoetsWhen the Gates of Dawn Open
I want to be there on the day, The gates of dawn open for me. I want to see the sunlight Flood into the sea. I want the earth to behold
Carson StonePublished 5 years ago in PoetsName
Important to some, the mystical realm opening conversations, shutting down rejections. What's in a name? Shakespeare wasn't worried, didn't want to know, besides a rose by any other name would smell
Treva CarterPublished 5 years ago in PoetsFoggy
This fog is I know it's early So I apologize It's hard to hold back Eyes so pearly In the sunrise The dawn begins to crack
Art CreepsPublished 5 years ago in PoetsFairy, Fairy!
Silly! Silly! Child of the night! Playful sprite, mischievous dart of the sleeping slumber! Tear apart the fabrication of reality, torn asunder!
Jordan ZunigaPublished 5 years ago in PoetsThe Movement of Life
Steam rises from a dusty street A microphone squawks The call to prayer rising through the heat Dawn breaks and the day begins.
Jenny BeckPublished 5 years ago in PoetsJohn and Yoko, or (Lennon's Last Hit Is the Life I Lead)
It was fabulous In the beginning Only there was One instead of four So to pass through The threshold of hell I had been summoned
Michael E.Published 5 years ago in PoetsNever Again
Never again, she swore to herself, never again She wouldn’t cry; she wouldn’t cower. Anger seeded in her heart, growing into a
Who I Am
I hate haters that hate all that is different without any remorse or shame Haters hate has created a movement and a plight that has gained the greatest of game.
Bobbi SimmonsPublished 5 years ago in Poets