Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
So, my underwear fell down, as I waited in the queue at the store, as I waited likely, my belt buckle broke, as I waited eventually leading to embarrassment, as I waited
By Paul Stewart2 years ago in Poets
Grilled Cheese at midnight with red wine and my diatribes scribbling down all the ins and outs and corkscrews in my mind.
By Ellie Hoovs2 years ago in Poets
I know my abc from my xyz I mind my p's and q's, o.k. but can also be a little c u n -n I n g, ok ok, I say I say I'm d e f the b e s t at
Drips off my bones… like the cause of this leak has root inside generation lies Someone said that historical half-truths don't break down well
By The Dani Writer2 years ago in Poets
If one day you ever have a change of heart, that you don't love my daughter anymore, please don't hurt her, just bring her back to me so she can still be her - the only person she was before you.
By Uncledee'2 years ago in Poets
In the quest for the ebb and flow, In the hammered wheels of agility and the art of being slow. The due course of nature strides in its crafty demeanour,
By Hridya Sharma2 years ago in Poets
She breathes stillness in the early hours of dawn and late hours of dusk listening to my heartbeat elegant and enchanting
Serendipity in the syncopations that stir my soul I rise stronger, unexpected, Like a dove from labber-strewn ashes Ebullient, electric, esoteric
Gaps within tree canopies beckon me to collapse into atoms and relapse into a state of ascension. Perhaps the maps were incorrect and the lapse
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Poets
I chose to smoke it not to sell it I couldn't hide that from my family I can't even order food without getting clammily But do you know what feels good?
By J. K. Anderson2 years ago in Poets
This hauntingly daunting feeling The unreality of watching my dreams unfold before my eyes Watching them rip off their disguise
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
This glass does not shatter on its’ own, Beneath brightened stars and dreams we make, The ceiling was never meant to be stone.
By Rachael MacDonald2 years ago in Poets
