slam poetry
Slam poetry: that magical mix of rhythm and rhyme.
Is Today the Day?
It can be debilitating and demoralizing. It can be overwhelming and constricting. It can be omnipresent and all-consuming.
Dear Big Tech
Dear Big Tech Please let me be I love all you have done for me But why now are you ditching me I am a minority But not the way you see
Anthony TerryPublished 8 months ago in PoetsTiny Love
Tiny Love I don't know why men doesn't find me attractive. Men finds me pretty but not pretty enough to be pursued. To be fair there are men who tried to pursue me but they are just out of my standards.
JUST NICOLEPublished 8 months ago in PoetsStrong
Strong They said your own trauma makes you stronger. No, it did not. It made me weak, fragile, and lost. My trauma is the darkest corner inside my head.
JUST NICOLEPublished 8 months ago in PoetsWalls
Walls Over the years I surrounded myself with tall and thick walls that no man can ever break my walls. I am indeed alone but at least,
JUST NICOLEPublished 8 months ago in PoetsAnxiety
Anxiety I have anxiety, the shortness of breath, the trembling of my fingers, the feeling of numbness, the racing of my heart,
JUST NICOLEPublished 8 months ago in PoetsHatred
Hatred The hatred I feel for myself is rooted in the deepest part of my heart. I drowned myself with hatred that no love can make me un-hate myself.
JUST NICOLEPublished 8 months ago in PoetsHenry David Thoreau
Henry David Thoreau Throws thrones like little stones Where they go No one knows It flies like a bird Into the nose Of all the Fabios
Atomic HistorianPublished 8 months ago in PoetsUnlikeable
Unlikeable Growing up I never see myself as a likable person, I was never pretty, never sexy, never cute,
JUST NICOLEPublished 8 months ago in PoetsIt’s About Time
It’s about time, and times of our lives; we have, good times/bad times, happy times/sad times, day time/nite time; breakfast,
Moe RadosevichPublished 8 months ago in PoetsEnchanted Chronicles: Tales from the Mystical Forest
In a world of wonder, a forest so grand A mystical journey, guided by hand Through emerald trees, whispers of leaves An adventure unfolds, like a dream we believe
Freestyle Number 1
Ever since I was a teen I wanted to light the scene On fire with pyrotechnics With my blazing linguistics * Never been a backstreet brawler
Paul StewartPublished 8 months ago in Poets