performance poetry

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

Whispers by the Riverbend
A humble, black-eyed scoundrel...! Shah, an, today too, in the evening, The three of them were coming to the bank. I heard a theatre audience sitting nearby,
By Rohitha Lanka2 years ago in Poets
When Being Alone Feels Right
When you find yourself desiring solitude, It can be beneficial. This indicates that you are on the verge of liberating yourself.
By Rohitha Lanka2 years ago in Poets
Ink Of Vengeance Ink Of Words
Ink Of Vengeance Ink Of Words Never let them de-ink you Writing is your destiny—your star to follow If we catch the poetry thieves
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 2 years ago in Poets
Daffodils
In the hush beneath powerlines, through fractured stones, no gardener knelt to bless them. No springtime choir sang. Still, golden heads rose,
By Ellie Hoovs2 years ago in Poets
Never Follow Trends, Be You
Never Follow Trends, Be You Always Be a leader, never be a fool Don’t twist yourself to fit their rule They’ll smile and cheer, then watch you slip
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 2 years ago in Poets
I Said NO
I Said NO Hello, emergency service, which do you require police ambulance or fire? I couldn’t answer, he’s raped me I said.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 2 years ago in Poets
Spattering
Repairing hearts with broken crayons Blending colors outside the lines Painting new rainbows with our tongues Wanting to feel something inside
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden2 years ago in Poets
To Suffer Does Not Art
We both know, don't we, we've been told and shared, considered and debated, but came to the same conclusion, that sometimes it's impossible
By Paul Stewart2 years ago in Poets
Be Self-Reliant
"Learn to rely on yourself" Learn to rely on yourself Even if no one encourages you When you are young, rely on your parents, it is called "being raised"
By Rohitha Lanka2 years ago in Poets
Bees and Humans
Bees and humans Cell phones are known to be a reason for the short lifespan of bees and the lack of food for humans. Due to the magnetic waves that travel around the world through the cellular technology of cell phones,
By Rohitha Lanka2 years ago in Poets
Our Song Was BAD
Our Song Was BAD He played a song, they played it loud I heard it once, I felt so proud We danced to it, in younger days
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 2 years ago in Poets
Socks, Suds, & the Mysterious Case of the Missing Blue Sock
It’s a bright, sunny Sunday. The clock strikes 10:00 AM as I carry a loaded hamper toward the laundry room. Mom is feeling under the weather, so I’ve taken over this chore to let her relax. I separate the white laundry into a pile and turn to the washing machine. With a twist of the knob, the machine comes to life with a loud WHIR. Feeling oddly triumphant, I lift the white pile and toss it in. Next, I grab the liquid detergent and fabric softener, add them to the mix, and close the lid. With a TING, the washing machine stops. I open the lid, pull out the freshly cleaned laundry, and transfer it to the dryer. Then, I load the colored pile, add detergent and softener, and shut the lid once more. Peering through the little glass window, I watch the clothes swirl in a hypnotic dance. WHIR—WHIR—WHIR—WHIR, The spin cycle kicks in with a purr. Suds and water swirl and flow, Dancing clothes put on a show— Some find joy (though most ignore), For them, it’s just one chore more. The dryer buzzes to a stop. After hanging the first load on the clothesline, I move the now-clean colored pile into the dryer. Once done, I open the lid and pull out the clothes—but wait! One blue sock is missing. Annoyed, I peer into the empty dryer. Nothing. Hmm. The sock monster strikes again. I sift through the pile of clean laundry and—aha!—there it is, clinging to the back of a sand-brown tee. With the laundry basket in hand, I head outside to hang the rest. Letting nature do its work, I retreat to the kitchen for a refreshing drink. As I sip, I pick up my phone and order some chicken broth for Mom—hoping she feels better soon...
By Staringale2 years ago in Poets