performance poetry
Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
Anxiety
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 7 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 7 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 7 years ago in PoetsImmerse
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 7 years ago in PoetsNDSRBL
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 7 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 7 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 7 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 7 years ago in PoetsDrinking Demons
Isn't it ironic? The things that make us who we are, the things that make our souls beautiful, can actually be hideous, terrifying and evil?
Destyni SchmuckalPublished 7 years ago in PoetsSoul Staring
Poetry Is more than just words on a page. It comes with a sense of pleasure, To the carefully listening ear. The sheer physical, sensual, arousing feeling
Screw You Anxiety
I have this friend. Let’s be honest, she’s not my friend but another half of me called anxiety. She’s always there making me second guess my decisions.
Jessica ElizabethPublished 7 years ago in PoetsAlone
its just me walls closing in screams after screams no one hears me. its just me stuck in this place I can't escape
Marquan NesbittPublished 7 years ago in Poets