performance poetry
Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
In Time
Time heals all the wounds you haven't recognized it yet because it's new to you I'm preaching you the truth so listen to me while I'm speakin' to you
Alex AliceaPublished 6 years ago in PoetsHer Wings Could Be Heavy..
"I was born a savior, a friend to the lonely; A saving grace to the lost.. An Empath with no cost... I give never expecting to take. I hold onto things that break. I go after the things left for Heaven's sake...
Brooke CoffellPublished 6 years ago in PoetsThe Thirst
The Thirst- Figurative Like a bottle of water Hidden behind a convenience store fridge glass After a long trek without a drop of hydration
Victim
Mouth dry, Eyes watering. Pupils dilated, Feeling humiliated. Chest burning, Heart yearning. Friends laughing, my demons are crashing.
Michele HastingsPublished 6 years ago in PoetsPandora's Rant
Prometheus chained to rock his liver as bird food on a constant repeat. It's not enough for the Son of Chronos. So here
Me, My Bed, and I
Sure, Being happy feels great, Freeing, and light. But there's something about depression that's incredibly addicting.
Sour TastePublished 6 years ago in PoetsSolo
I am but a quarter Only worth a beat I'm average among the staff With but one leg and no feet. Short and to the point
Ashley HolbrookPublished 6 years ago in PoetsPoem About Friendship
Good friends are really hard to find But I'm so glad that you are a good friend of mine. From our uni days till today
Nabila HussainPublished 6 years ago in PoetsI Am the Sheep That Got Away
I am the sheep that got away Keeping silent is something I lack My neurons work, I have to stray Sorry, I am not coming back
Rajun
I've reached an age, a timeless phase, where I no longer hide my face, but I'm frustrated and in a rage, I know these sound like complaints, but it's quite the opposite, I'm trying to avoid a fit, in this darkness I will sit and wallow, for the truth is a lot harder to swallow, I dream of being crazy, at least then I'd have a reason to be lazy, but I think I'm just too sane, trying to find the evidence to claim, all the evils I explain, I feel I have been tame for far too long, if you're listening to this song, you'll know minds never been wrong, you've been called upon, this wicked ensemble, solemnly swinging my moods, while the world's left spinning, in the right direction, at our own discretion, I've got an obsession, yet don't know the lesson, hoping to lessen the pain, without anything to gain, aside from my freedom, my demons I feed them, with evil secretion, seeping out my pores, there's nothing but closed doors, everywhere I turn, I really only yearn, to learn about my burn this sudden heat that I cannot beat has me glued to my seat and begging for help as I try to yelp but I'm left alone with not even a phone hoping to hone my skills I've swallowed some pills to open my mind but terrors I find in this head of mine there's a demon that laughs as it judges my past trying to loosen its grasp and see what's passed this forked path you do the math and I'll just pass this class with weapons of mass destruction there is no junction I haven't seen my brain is bursting at the seams with all of this anger I need a new anchor as I would like to sail over the horizon while trying to defy them only findin' they were true between me and you my voices are like toys just a bit more serious feeling delirious but they have experience with my surroundings it's quite astounding and emotion shrouding to be desensitized to constant lies.
Seras ShawanaPublished 6 years ago in PoetsThe Undying Man
Sad, lonely, burdened, scorn and empty,lost, helpless, longing, panic, anxiety,anger, hate, self-doubt.Passion, love, sorrow, mistakes,failure, traitor, lazy oath-breaker,I'll know the end before I know it,holding myself guilty,I know no other way,ingrained into me, By the events of life.
Chit WintonPublished 6 years ago in PoetsThe Vase
She is small, thin and fragile. Unlike the inclining curve, sway and depth of the vase. She will never be the Pageant queen, unafraid of collecting dirt in her core bitten nails. While the vase, in comparison, is sheer porcelain, and regal perfection.
Rachel MorettiPublished 6 years ago in Poets