Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
No One’s Boy: The Passed Around Child He was dressed in neat things, shoes that shone, jumpers pressed, fed at the right time,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
Introduction This is for Ellie Hoovs' July Poetry Prompt Contest (day 6) “Revolution, Reckoning, and the Poetry of Uprising”, which you can find more about here:
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred about a year ago in Poets
"So what did you two idiots do with the body...I hope there is no trail back to here...I don't want to have to dirty my hands getting rid of you".
By Novel Allenabout a year ago in Poets
When I die, Carry me to the brink of a pond And lay my body under a Weeping Willow. Gouge a hole into the earth And wrap English Ivy around my limbs.
By Kristinaabout a year ago in Poets
At two, Bartholomew’s bakery opens With his burly hands he motions His innumerable patrons inside Many thus far have since complied
By A. D. Myersabout a year ago in Poets
The silence held them first, those precious things, Arranged with care on shelves of polished oak, Or velvet-lined within small, satin rings.
By Jacky Kapadiaabout a year ago in Poets
I was born of earth and light, Where soil and sun in secret write The name of all who walk the land, Molded by dust, shaped by hand.
The Man Who Painted With No Eyes He held the brush without a glance no sight to shape the colors there yet still he moved with steady hands
Who Needs Diamonds, This Is How He Touches Me He doesn’t need stones to mark his love. His hands speak louder than rings ever could.
An Open Letter to My Body You, with your aching knees, and belly soft soft from years of looking after everyone else, I see you.
The Closed Book I don’t say much, I never did there’s strength in knowing what to rid Let others talk and bare their soul
The Open Book I speak my mind, I don’t pretend what starts in me comes out the end No secret corners, no locked-up shelf
