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.
The Unfolding of a Heartbeat
It was an open invitation for something more to come. It never stopped as it changed the tempo of the drum,that kept giving it new partners to dance with.
Noel WillettPublished 5 years ago in PoetsScratching the Itch
There’s an itch I can’t scratch. I’m actually starting to think it’s inside my brain. You know that type of itch that your fingers can’t reach well enough to make it go away.
Skye MariePublished 5 years ago in PoetsVerbal Diarrhea
It’s only for a bit of fun, So I hope you pardon my pun. I have a slight issue, you see, unfortunately involving my tongue.
Isaac ChallisPublished 5 years ago in PoetsBroken Pieces
Broken pieces, Broken pieces, She looks to the ground and just leaves them, She once was an angel, but now more like a demon,
J. J. TaylorPublished 5 years ago in PoetsThe eMotional Ride
How is possible to have a feeling like this? The type of feeling that keeps moving with time. A timeless feeling that never seems to end.
Joaquin LeePublished 5 years ago in PoetsMusic to Kill Yourself to on a Bright Sunny Day
April 21st, 2019—Still Alive Still here, I guess, still alive, I woke up today, went outside, stretched. I took a deep breath in.
Jason GiecekPublished 5 years ago in PoetsPointing Fingers
I didn’t break their hearts I didn’t cheat I didn’t lie I didn’t deceive I didn’t break promises I didn’t leave I didn’t do any of those things to you
Cheryl ChastainPublished 5 years ago in PoetsState of My Head
Invested in the mission, the future I envision. Irreplaceable memories and many life lessons. Isn’t that why we’re here?
Candice RosePublished 5 years ago in PoetsA Lack of Lactose in Me
Growing up, I didn't grow much. Physically, I mean. As a 5'1" Southeast Asian-Canadian, I've dealt with many comparisons made by my parents. These comparisons were about my appearance; I was shorter than many of my Caucasian peers. This makes sense of course, as people will often remind me that Asian women are very petite... typically.
Lenora HuỳnhPublished 5 years ago in PoetsIn Motion in December
I sat alone on a snowy, high bank of the river one cold winter night beneath a panoply of stars, pondering if I could make happen what seemed impossible,
Theresa McGarryPublished 5 years ago in PoetsMy Own Civil War
I am certainly moving; whether forward or back, I am entirely uncertain But, I am being moved I was here awhile ago remembering the pain;
Keegan RoembkePublished 5 years ago in PoetsEarly Sun Run
I'm returning with September holding my left hand. Running into this same house that's held a door-bulging emptiness since I last opened it. You smell like the warmest light and my Christmas stocking and you sound a lot like my sister's sobbing bed, the winter I learned the meaning of the word, "matchstick." You feel like newness with an old soul and like nostalgia shaking hands with someone it has never met
Megan SandicoPublished 5 years ago in Poets