performance poetry

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

She Walk's In Beauty
She walks in beauty, soft and clear, Through whispered worlds, both far and near. With grace as light as morning’s sigh, She drifts like stars across the sky. Her steps are verses, deep and slow, A rhythm soft, a gentle flow. With every glance, the earth stands still, Time bending to her quiet will. Her eyes, a twilight’s quiet gleam, Are secrets caught within a dream. No sun could paint so fine a shade, As the light her laughter made. The night unfolds beneath her feet, As stars within her presence meet. The moon, a silver ghost on high, Dips low to glimpse her passing by. In every shadow, every sound, There’s something rare, a beauty found. She moves as though the world is small, And hers to wander, hers to call. A mystery in the midnight’s veil, A whispered tale, a nightingale. She holds the dark, she spins the light, A dawn awaiting each new night. With every step, with every breath, She dances on the edge of death. Yet in her gaze, a warmth remains, A spark untouched by winter rains. She walks in beauty, soft and free, A fleeting song, a melody. Through shadowed lands, through soft-spun air, Her beauty lingers everywhere.
By zulfi bux2 years ago in Poets
Clouds of Ire
clouds of ire gather in their anger, nature's army stands above me she gives a signal, and their storm falls from the sky‐
By JM2 years ago in Poets
Graveyard Blues
These tattoos on my skin have seeped deep into my bones. If I melted into a skeleton tonight, you could use the ink to carve my name
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Poets
Sky's Last Veil
Broke through sky’s last veil No oxygen, I stiffen Died for their high hopes Author's Notes This was written for Vocal's Sky-ku Challenge . Sometimes, we tend to lose ourselves trying to fulfil people's sky-high expectations of us. Even if we exit the atmosphere, it still wouldn't be enough for them.
By Dharrsheena Raja Segarran2 years ago in Poets
You Don't Know Jack
Abandoned by God and The Devil, both Between is my scene; the earth, my dwelling Carrying coal in turnip or pumpkin Deranged grins are carved on my vessels bright
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
Happy Halloween
Hope your candy bites Your wicked pumpkins spawn bats And ghosts haunt your sleep +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Trick or treat...ha ha ha ha ha ha ha...Treat!
By Antoni De'Leon2 years ago in Poets
The Rickshaw Driver
In the heart of the bustling street, Where chaos dances to a rhythmic beat, A rickshaw driver, weathered and wise, Navigates life beneath the endless skies. With a smile that greets both young and old, His stories of journeys are quietly told. Worn hands grip the steering wheel tight, Guiding dreams through the day and night. He weaves through the traffic, a master of flow, Amidst the honks and the shouts, he moves slow, Each passenger carries a world in their gaze, Their hopes and their worries in a fleeting phase. Through crowded markets and quiet lanes, He knows the paths where joy remains. With every turn, a new tale unfolds, In the tapestry of life, his spirit bold. Children laugh as they bounce in delight, While lovers whisper beneath the city lights. In the rickshaw’s embrace, strangers unite, For a brief moment, their burdens take flight. As the sun dips low, painting skies aglow, He parks by the corner, where the soft breezes blow. Counting the coins, he dreams of the day When the wheels of his rickshaw lead him away. Yet, here he remains, with heart open wide, A beacon of hope, a humble guide. In every ride, a journey anew, The rickshaw driver, a spirit so true.
By zulfi bux2 years ago in Poets
A Mythic Quest for Curiosity and Courage
In a quiet village nestled between ancient forests and mountains, there lived a scrappy, curious cat named Finn. Finn was not the type to sleep the day away on sunny rocks like the other cats. He was a questioner, a seeker, forever nosing around places he didn’t belong, and always with the faintest glimmer of something mischievous in his green eyes.
By Honey Singh2 years ago in Poets
To the ones who told me that I was too much
To the ones who told me that I was too much Radiance in its mirth smiles in the abundance of glee, In its glory, it holds the light that sets your darkness free.
By Hridya Sharma2 years ago in Poets
Weather Balloons and Other Dark Plots (Did We All Forget?)
Did we all forget? The lengths the corrupt go to, When hiding bad deeds?
By Jackie Barrows2 years ago in Poets
Chiroptera
Blood contains echoes They make the loud map you know How do our lives sound?
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
Lift your Voices
People be not afraid People be not distraught Lift your voices People walk upright People talk straight Lift your voices
By Distinguished Honorary Alumni Dr. Matthew Primous2 years ago in Poets