performance poetry
Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
I Am Out of Ideas
I am officially out of things to write. I have such a block in my mind. I cannot think of anything, even with all my might. I've written things of each kind. Sometimes, I don't think they're good enough to publish. Sometimes, my opinion isn't something I should establish. People don't understand how hard it is. It's difficult being in the author biz. "Write about anything!" I'm told. On some topics, though, I'm not THAT bold. I hate feeling this way. My creativeness doesn’t sway. I know I have talent. Even though it's not prevalent. I just need practice. Because if I stop writing like this, it's something I'll surely miss.
By Savana Verret6 years ago in Poets
Tube
Tube Stuck. Warm. My arm extends above in an awkward salute to the transport gods. Headphones press uncomfortably against my neck. My only comfort switched off. We are Over-populated today. Everyday? You spit at me with your words. I cannot move. Move me if you want, that’s the only way we’ll get to a different point.
By Emily Sara Andrews6 years ago in Poets
Repeat
Repeat It just repeats. It always repeats. It’s not a surprise. It will always repeat. You get drawn in. And it repeats. You get drawn in. And it just repeats. You get drawn in again. And it just repeats. It just repeats. It’s not new news. It just repeats. It’s a cycle. It’s a cycle. It’s something that always happens to you. He bleats. You repeat. He bleats. You repeat. And you repeat the cycle. And you repeat the cycle. And you kill the cycle. You kill the cycle. You kill the repeat. Until the next. And then you repeat. And then we repeat. And then I kill the cycle. And then we repeat. And then I repeat. And then we do what’s natural. We repeat. It just repeats. And it just repeats. It’s not new news. And when the repeating has killed us. And it will. The repeat moves on.
By Emily Sara Andrews6 years ago in Poets