Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
The clock unwinds its gears of rust, And time is baked to golden dust. Upon the shelf where shadows sigh, Spin the rings of the Pecan Pie.
By Forest Green8 days ago in Poets
Upon a porcelain sea of melted pearl, Where lavender clouds in slow geometry swirl, A golden sun slips softly from the sky,
A golden noon begins to melt and spill, Across a floating archipelago of white. The sugar-sculpted clouds stand strangely still,
Upon a table made of violet glass, Where shadow-butterflies and memories pass, A wild-born vision starts to lightly bake:
Upon a plate of spun, meridian glass, Where shadows bend and time forgets to pass, A pastry sleeps in crusts of powdered light,
Upon a plate of spun, forgotten glass, Where liquid amber dreams of turning skies, The shadows of the afternoon will pass
Enter a porcelain shore of dream, Where tea-clouds pour in liquid cream, A crescent moon of fondant white Met chocolate rivers, smooth and bright.
The dawn leaked magenta across the white floor, Where gravity folded and time was no more. A basin of rubies suspended in air,
A velvet midnight spun on silver wire, We baked the crescent moon in amber fire. The crust—a shattered dream of toasted wheat—
Upon a crust of silvered cloud, Where painted skies are dawn-endowed, A fragile saucer lifts the sun— A golden dream just half-begun.
Trouble at the Ball We were invited to a ball Inside a grand old hall With a chandelier above our heads And posh folk wall to wall
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 8 days ago in Poets
Masks and costumes, Old Traditions. Candies and parties And superstitions. Witches and warlocks, Conjuring Magicians Ghosts of old pasts,
By Jebus! 8 days ago in Poets
