performance poetry

Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.

The Honey Trap
The thing of which We never speak Shared glances Sitting too close Hugs a bit too long And too tight < Messages at midnight
By Gene Lassabout a year ago in Poets
She Is the Devil’s Daughter
She Is the Devil’s Daughter She walks like silence cut from glass no footsteps, only aftermath a breath too cold, a smile too wide
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
Alive Again
I was dead for so long Today I am alive < Thinner Maybe wiser < I went a lot of days Not knowing When, how, or what
By Gene Lassabout a year ago in Poets
A Leopard Never Changes His Ways
A Leopard Never Changes His Ways He smiled like sin and smelled of charm a velvet grip, a crooked arm he told me truths in twisted lines
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
Gospel According to The Anti-Sycophant
While the World Burns (We're Arguing About the Spelling) Hear ye, Hear ye Ferocity and anti-sycophancy have been gifted to me
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Poets
It Comes Once
“Don’t let the pain of the past the worries of tomorrow take away the joy you have today.” It comes once. Not twice. Not again. The moment you're living in right now this breath, this sky, this little piece of time it won't return. But we waste it, don’t we? We look back. At the people who hurt us. The words that shattered us. The chapters we wish we could rewrite. We look ahead. Worried if we’ll make it. If we’ll be loved, if we’ll succeed, if life will finally feel kind. And in between all that looking we forget to live. I was guilty of that. Every smile I had came with a shadow. Every peaceful hour ruined by a loud memory, or a loud fear of what might come next. But one day, I sat in silence. No phone. No people. Just me and time. And I realized something: This moment? It’s mine. Raw. Real. Unrepeated.
By Hazrat Usman Usmanabout a year ago in Poets
Fare Thee Well, Beloved Sycamore
Introduction This week, the iconic three-hundred-year-old Sycamore Gap Tree was vandalised and chopped down by a sixteen-year-old vandal.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred about a year ago in Poets
Love in 8 Messages — And One Left Unsent
1. Drafted on: January 12, 2021 — 10:02 PM Hey, Elina. I know it’s been a while. I wasn’t sure if I should even message you. But today, I walked past the bookstore where you slipped your number into the back of that Murakami novel. I still have the receipt you doodled your smiley face on. Weird, right? I stared at it for a long time. Thought about how excited I was when I found it. Thought about you. Anyway… I hope you’re good.
By Musawir Shahabout a year ago in Poets
The Firefly Fleet
A flickering light... A humble candle against the night sky, travels in a pattern all its own—burning bright, carried weightlessly... on a soft breeze whispering by.
By Wings of Time about a year ago in Poets
Blood.. Content Warning.
Bleed for me, sickly and sweet. The crimson sticking to my vile hands as i dig at you. Your stained form and flesh becoming slick to the touch.
By KatStokerabout a year ago in Poets
The Things She Didn’t Forget
The Things She Didn’t Forget She didn’t forget the crack in the floor where rain slipped through in winter storms or how her mother’s hands would shake
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
A Silent Retreat
I cry, I cry in the shadows of light, I cry in the pouring rain at night, I don't feel alright, I don't like to cry, Yet I want to cry out loud,
By Parvathi Jabout a year ago in Poets