performance poetry

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

Burning Skies
Burning Skies A lonely star cut through the black Like hope refusing death While scarlet clouds surrounded it And stole the night’s last breath
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 6 months ago in Poets
Stars In A Dark Distance
Stars In A Dark Distance The night stretched far beyond the earth Wrapped in shades of red Like anger pouring through the sky
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 6 months ago in Poets
First Breath, Last Wish
First Breath, Last Wish The first breath came without asking, a cry into borrowed air, Hands reached in joy, no promise how long I would be here.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 6 months ago in Poets
The Plagiaristic Poet Goes Wilde
The Prompt Write an acrostic using the word DISTRACTION. Read all about it here This is an attempt to fuse the Vocal Acrostic Challenge with the Titles of Stories by Oscar Wilde. There are two that I had to shoehorn in but all these are creations of the great Irish writer.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 6 months ago in Poets
She Spoke With A Deadly Venom
She Spoke With A Deadly Venom She spoke in whispers dipped in midnight flame, A velvet curse that slithered through my veins,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 6 months ago in Poets
In Bed With The Killer
In Bed With The Killer The sheets remember more than I will ever say aloud, They hold the shape of secrets hidden neatly under doubt.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 6 months ago in Poets
Lady of the Night
Lady of the Night Beneath the glow of fractured lamps, She walked the city’s sleepless veins, Through bitter cold and dripping damp,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 6 months ago in Poets
When The Fat Lady Sings
When The Fat Lady Sings There comes a moment when the ending can no longer hide, A final note hanging heavy in the air, Everything leading to this point without pause,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 6 months ago in Poets
Sour
Do you know what it’s like? To have the rug pulled beneath your feet? To fall into a pit of grief and emptiness? To become a pit of grief and emptiness?
By SUEDE the poet6 months ago in Poets
Hunger Like a Compass
The cold came first. Not the weather... the other kind of cold. The kind that starts inside the chest. and works its way out...
By Akiya ღ6 months ago in Poets
The Fruit Trees That Bear No Fruit Anymore
The Fruit Trees That Bear No Fruit Anymore The orchard stands in quiet rows, where laughter used to grow, Branches once heavy with promise now bend with nothing to show,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 6 months ago in Poets
Brief Happiness
1986 Age 15 I had been depressed off an on For 9 years Constantly suicidal For 6 > By this time I thought the condition chronic
By Gene Lass6 months ago in Poets