Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
Create the 'sweet spot'...Excellence with room for leisure. Prioritize: Adequacy Balanced. 75% tasks. 25% fun. Maintain Efficiency...just short of Perfection.
By Antoni De'Leon2 years ago in Poets
Husky dogs running like the wind Huskies run on snow-clad ground, their joyful barks, a cheerful sound. Strong and sleek, with fur so bright,
By âż V+ Marie381Uk 2 years ago in Poets
She was good at starting a fire, But when it came down to the ashes, She could not put them out. The embers lingered on,
By Chloe Unfiltered2 years ago in Poets
Early Life and Influences Born Edwin John Dove Pratt on February 4, 1882, in Newfoundland, Pratt grew up in an environment deeply connected to the sea. His father was a Methodist minister, and his upbringing was marked by strict religious discipline and exposure to Newfoundlandâs rugged landscapes. These early experiences shaped much of his poetry, particularly his fascination with natureâs power and the human struggle against it.
By Mr Ali2 years ago in Poets
Did you feel the mattress burn? did you see the lines blur? did you think we'd never change? did you taste the bitter rain?â
By Paul Stewart2 years ago in Poets
Canât be tempted when Iâm feeling Low whenever really downâŠ. Need to fight within myself and Get the crown come back aroundâŠ.
By Haychie_Artist2 years ago in Poets
Beauty, once obvious innately Deemed lacking in utility What goodâs a vase used only for visibility? Then shattered prejudicially
By Matthew J. Fromm2 years ago in Poets
Ground Control to Major John Ground control, this is Major John, Iâve touched down, the journeyâs done. I see before me a dusty sea,
Clay Pigeon Shooting The air is still, the fields awake, A crisp blue sky, a perfect stake. With steady hands, the shotgunâs raised,
By MrP2 years ago in Poets
How to survive on vocal.media To survive on Vocal, one must be bold, With words that shimmer, stories told. Craft your tale with care, donât stray,
Whispers of Ice The wind howls through the barren trees, A ghostly breath on frozen seas. The earth is locked in winterâs hold,
To my thoughtsâ Why can't you exist in peace? Why must you fight? Why can't you all just get along? *sigh* Is this fire impossible to cease?
By JM2 years ago in Poets
