performance poetry
Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
Broken Heart
I cried a silent cry, With no one to hear my voice, Tears flowed down my cheek like a waterfall, I let no sound to be heard,
'Oh My God, Did You Hear?'
"Oh my God, did you hear who she's 'fallen in love with' this year? Her next victim on her rampage of infatuation. Her desperation for the first guy that knows her name. But when she gets hurt, it's him to blame. Because to her, it's all just a big game. How is she not ashamed?"
Faceless InsiderPublished 6 years ago in PoetsA Conversation with My Sister, About What to Write Next...
Talk about how you starved yourself and threw mother's lunchboxes away, talk about how one compliment would be all the food you'd need
abigail josé,Published 6 years ago in PoetsThe Pile
I go with the best intentions to face my pile Knowing the woman that tore this cotton I dread feeling the dirt she made upon it
Jacqueline WallacePublished 6 years ago in PoetsAnxiety
Knock knock Who’s there? Anxiety Anxiety? Yes, I’m here to take over your life Until the day you die Meaning I’ll be here every day along side of you
mornee robinsonPublished 6 years ago in PoetsInsomnia
Reading books, counting stars, naming constellations, or counting sheep, nothing seems to hold onto sleep long enough for it to be reality,
Regan MeadePublished 6 years ago in PoetsParts Unknown
Long after dusk, a girl travelled by train. In the dark lied adventure, But this was not her domain. This path was hidden,
Michae baisdenPublished 6 years ago in Poets- Top Story - November 2017
Immerse
For anyone who wasn’t already aware, I am worth immersing in. And for those who don’t recognize, Who try to drown me In their detached, weary, disheartening,
Ajone AlinaPublished 6 years ago in Poets NDSRBL
It's fine Really For me to expect more would be silly I chase any shining soul that catches my eye with my hand outstretched
Duanyell WilliamsPublished 6 years ago in PoetsTo Whom It May Concern
To Whom It May Concern: Where do I start describing my life? My chaotic haphazard and oddball life, full of unbalanced ideas of how it should go, of how my life
Regan MeadePublished 6 years ago in PoetsA Crack in Space
In my college English class, we had to write an essay on an essay written by Wells Tower titled "Who Wants to Shoot an Elephant?" It’s about people hunting elephants, and trying to come up with ways to justify killing them. In the end, the author concludes that he does not know what the right answer is, to kill or not to kill. Now let’s put aside the reasons they listed for killing them, like how they are destroying the environment by tearing down trees. At the end of the day, these hunters were killing for pleasure, not to make the world a better place. Here’s a quote from Wells Tower, “When an elephant keels over, its friends sometimes break their tusks trying to get it to stand up again. They bury their dead. They bear grudges against people who’ve hurt them, and sometimes go on revenge campaigns. They cry.” These graceful, humanlike animals are roaming the Earth, and there are people that brag about knowing where to put the bullet. But I’m not surprised. I mean, we kill humans, right? We kill our own kind. So of course we will kill something that reminds us of ourselves. The best of all, they take pictures with their trophies, smiling like they were just reunited with an old friend. How weird would it be if we went to funerals and took a selfie with the dead body in the casket? Now what about showing up to the funeral of the person we murdered and taking a picture with them in their casket? “Oh man, instagram is gonna get a kick out of this.”
Sophia MacielPublished 6 years ago in PoetsSeven
What is that? Is that music? I don't need that, I don't need a beat I don't need a metronome, I'd probably just turn to stone
Ezra BerkmanPublished 6 years ago in Poets