Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
played from within a single note i always have to explain the joke because i am still the funniest guy i know layered like the scramble
By ⸘jason alan‽about a year ago in Poets
Separated six years before, the annual coming together of all four meant more to us than any of us would care to admit, having never mentioned the split or the shit, we’d take each other in, our heads in a spin, full of laughter and joy,
By Jess Boyesabout a year ago in Poets
The moon glows, gentle on the quiet street, Soft light weaving gold on tangled sheets, We lie side by side, but worlds apart,
By Ameliaabout a year ago in Poets
I saw you once, and time stood still, A glance, a smile—I felt the thrill. The world grew quiet, soft and wide, With you, my heart had found its guide.
The Bee, the Fly and the Moth The bee wore boots and a pilot’s hat, He fancied himself a diplomat, Buzzed in a bar all full of cheer,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
The Train That Took Him Away The train that took him away howled at the dawn like a curse steam biting the wind, metal grinding the dirt from its path.
In shadows deep, where sorrow dwells,A boy treads soft through private hells.Yet in his heart, a spark takes flight,Words weave his armor, fierce and bright.Though storms may rage, he’ll rise, he’ll mend,A poet’s soul, where dreams transcend.
By Am@n Khan about a year ago in Poets
We gather not with placards or parades, but with pens, syllables, and spirit— in the ink-soaked silence of notebooks, where protest bleeds not in fire,
By Jacky Kapadiaabout a year ago in Poets
***if you are in immediate danger, call 911. for confidential support and resources, you may contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1.800.799.7233(SAFE)***
Barefoot Sand hot, searing white, like my skin, which had been kissed by a fierce fiery sun that mistook me for his lover.
By Ellie Hoovsabout a year ago in Poets
Lightning flashed then hit his grave too soon after he emerged to carry on his haunting nights with boots still wet from shifting earth
I heard something that stuck in my head, as so many things do Among the useless and trivial, the line that stood out to me
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Poets
