performance poetry
Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
Shifting Tides
I'm watching so many echoes shatter, where laughter once danced like fireflies, shadows stretch longer than the twilight, and memories rustle in the winds of change. Once, colors dripped from skies with joy— a canvas splashed with youth’s delight, but now the hues drip gray and cautious, like hesitant brushes on a wilting bloom. Streets hum a different tune today, each note tinged with the whisper of loss; we tread lightly on this brittle ground, where dreams once sprouted like wildflowers. Time is a sculptor carving unfamiliar faces— we wear them like masks at a fading masquerade; familiar hands turn to strangers’ embrace, the warmth dissolving in the chill of uncertainty. Yet in this kaleidoscope of changed designs, there flickers a spark—a stubborn flame; beneath the rubble of what we knew lies gold— resilience blooms even through cracked concrete. So let us gather these pieces anew, crafting mosaics from fragments of what was; for in difference lies not just despair— but an invitation to dance with tomorrow's dawn.
By Forest Green28 days ago in Poets
Lure of Shadows
The small dusk where whispers curl, a path diverged beneath the trees, we danced on edges, heartbeats chime, lured by shadows' softest tease. Each step a question—will we fall? Beneath the boughs a trap was set, with roots like fingers grasping tight, and echoes of our past regret. The ground was ripe with tangled dreams, a siren’s call in every leaf; yet laughter lingered like the breeze, as we wove through doubt and disbelief. A flicker caught—a glimpse of light! We turned away from danger’s grin; the thorns that whispered sweetly now— their velvet lies could not draw us in. With every breath we carved a truth, in twilight's arms our courage swayed; for freedom dances on the knife— and love is never meant to fade. So here we stand—a radiant choice— beyond the trap where dark things tread; together bound by woven fate, our hearts alight with what we've said.
By Forest Green29 days ago in Poets
Quiet Resolve
The heart of a village, where whispers reside, A woman named Clara walked softly outside. Her hands, worn and weathered, told tales of her toil, Each wrinkle a story, each scar from the soil. She rose with the dawn, as the sun kissed the earth, With quiet resolve that revealed her true worth. The fields stretched before her in hues of gold green, Yet few could perceive what lay silently seen. For shadows danced near her; they clung to her feet— Memories of sorrow she faced with defeat. An unkind husband who left without word, A child who departed—so swiftly unheard. But there by the brook where wildflowers swayed, Clara knelt gently and offered up prayers. The soft sighing breeze carried wishes untold— Of strength in each heartbeat and warmth in the cold. Her neighbors would pass with their laughter and cheer; They saw not her struggle nor felt all her fear. Yet she bore it with grace like a tree in a storm— Rooted deep in resolve while its branches stay warm. And when evening fell like a blanket of night, She’d gaze at the stars—a reminder of light. Though silence enveloped her world like a shroud, In stillness she stood tall; not broken but proud. Years rolled on gently like waves on a shore; The village grew older yet Clara bore more— With each whispered hardship that tested her soul, She learned how to carry both burden and whole. So when folks gathered round for stories anew, They marveled at Clara—the things she could do— With hands steady clasped ‘neath an old oak so grand; Quiet resolve held firm—a testament planned.
By Forest Green29 days ago in Poets
Dimming Light
As the bulb clutch, lights weave, Beneath the thinning veil of day— A whispered sigh from branches grieve, As light retreats, it turns to gray. Crimson embers on the horizon bled, Fleeting warmth like a lover's hand, Each heartbeat pressed where dreams have tread, Beneath the stars' cold reprimand. Once vibrant hues now fade to dust, Echoes of laughter in twilight’s breath; Life’s canvas brushed with fading trust, A melody dulled by encroaching death. Yet within this dimming glow we find, The beauty wrapped in farewell's kiss; In silence deepens a truth unconfined— That endings cradle beginnings in abyss. So linger not in fear of night; Embrace the soft descent of gloom— For even lost are fireflies bright, Their flicker still ignites the room.
By Forest Green29 days ago in Poets
What We Both See
Whispered dreams entwine our hearts, Holding hands beneath the stars, All the world fades, as love imparts, Tender glances, like sweet guitars. Waves of passion rise and fall, Every moment, a cherished sigh. Boundless whispers echo in the hall, Overcome by love’s soft lullaby. Time stands still when your eyes meet mine, Hearts dance in sync, a rhythm divine. Silken threads of fate we weave, Each glance a promise we believe. Endless is this journey we share, In the tapestry of love laid bare.
By Forest Green29 days ago in Poets
Small Shadows
In the soft light of a fading day, Where the sun dips low and colors sway, A child runs wild in fields of gold, Chasing dreams that never grow old. Her laughter dances on the breeze, Echoing through the whispering trees; But soon her joy will take to flight, As shadows stretch into the night. Beneath the boughs where secrets lie, She finds a nest where small birds cry— The world around her slows and bends, In these small shadows where magic blends. Each shadow tells of tales long gone, Of gentle giants and quiet dawns; The stories woven in twilight’s loom, Where whispers gather in the gloaming gloom. "Come play with me," she calls out loud, To figures hidden within the shroud; Yet only silence meets her plea— Just small shadows that dance with glee. As dusk unfolds its velvet drape, She gathers dreams in a fragile shape— Not all who wander are lost from sight; Some linger softly till morning light. When dawn arrives with golden rays, The shadows shrink and fade away; But memories linger like scents of spring— In small shadows lies everything.
By Forest Green29 days ago in Poets
Subtle Strength
This is the place where strength dwell, A strength unfolds that few can tell. With roots entwined in earth's embrace, The silent oak holds steadfast grace. Though storms may rage and winds may howl, It stands its ground with solemn scowl. Each branch a tale of battles fought, Yet calm within is all it’s taught. The gentle sway of leaves at play, A dance of peace that won’t betray. For though the world may twist and bend, Its quiet heart will never end. In subtle ways it offers shade, Where weary souls might seek cascade. No grand display or boastful fight, Just humble strength in soft twilight. So let us learn from this old tree, That strength can flow so quietly. With every storm we face anew, We find our roots and hold them true.
By Forest Green29 days ago in Poets
