Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
Upon a crust of golden sleep, Where shadows fade and sorrows keep, A quiet fire begins to glow, To heal the heavy heart below.
By Forest Green14 days ago in Poets
Upon a board of floured pine, Where morning sun and shadows twine, A golden circle starts to take The gentle shape of sweet remake.
Upon the counter, cooling in the morn, A quiet symbol of a day newborn, A pastry shell, so humble and so sweet, Awaiting hands to make the table complete.
A crust of gold, like morning’s early light, Pressed in by hand, through shadows into sight. It bakes in warmth, a promise on the tray,
Upon a crust of golden, toasted grace, A quiet patience found its resting place, A hollow shell, once empty to the breeze,
Upon the counter, bathed in morning light, A pastry waiting for the world to wake, A golden crust of flaky, buttery white,
Upon the wooden board, the morning light Awakes to chase the shadows of the night. A sphere of gold, of crisp and autumn air,
Upon the counter, bathed in golden light, Awaiting morning’s sweet and gentle start, Resting in crusts of buttery delight,
A crown of ruby resting on the crest, Arranged by patient hands with tender care, A summer promise laid upon the rest, Dispelling all the chillness in the air.
A pale gold disk upon the porcelain plate, Sunlight captured on a winter’s day, A quiet promise that can compensate For all the heavy clouds that block the gray.
Open the damn door. Come on, I'm serious. Open the fucking door. It's right there, waiting at the dark edge of the room,
By Silver Daux14 days ago in Poets
The Devil's Sweetheart He wore a coat of velvet black, And promised he would soon be back. His eyes were filled with burning fire,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 14 days ago in Poets
