slam poetry
Slam poetry: that magical mix of rhythm and rhyme.
Whispering winds weave
Whispering winds weave Within wistful wonder, Where words wander, willingly, Woven with winsome grace. Wandering worlds wake,
Lawrence Mireku AduPublished about a year ago in PoetsMother’s Day
A day that’s supposed to be about love and appreciation instead fills my mind with anxiety. Wondering what kind of gift to buy and if it will deliver in time is just too stressful entirely. “You didn’t ask me what I wanted” or “ You didn’t tell me Happy Mothers Day” haunts me. This pagan holiday is far too much than it’s gotta be. I can’t speak for all moms, but mine is only lovingly when you’re doing things financially. Her self worth is determined by a swipe of a card instead of the way you treat her when times are hard. Doesn’t matter if you always gave a shoulder to cry on or was always a person that she could rely on. If you didn’t get her what she wanted on Mother’s Day, you were treated as a disappointment who never appreciated her anyway. What’s even the point if in the end I get burned? A mothers love should never have to be earned. I didn’t ask to be here, I owe you nothing. Yet I’m jumping through hoops hoping you’d feel something. Through all the endless tears, I’ve chosen to forgive. Yet you remain the same in the way you live. No growing, accountability, or self awareness in sight. But I dare bring a late Mother’s Day gift and it becomes a fight.
Mya FrancisPublished about a year ago in PoetsSkinwalker
you sleaze your bidding Skin-Walker, lover, my doom Gaslight your image.
Melissa IngoldsbyPublished about a year ago in PoetsWhy must all be taken?
Parables and fables Have lessons that aren't always stable Claiming to teach the right path But little concern for the aftermath
Thavien YliasterPublished about a year ago in PoetsSilence and Its Resonance
In the realm of stillness, where silence resides, A profound resonance, the soul confides. For in the absence of words, a symphony plays,
The Power of Voice
In the silence that pervades, there lies a force, A power that transcends, takes its course. Within the echoes of words that we choose,
The Art of Letting Go
In the realm of the heart, a delicate dance, The art of letting go, a path of chance. For in the release of what no longer serves,
Embracing Vulnerability
In the depths of vulnerability's embrace, Lies a beauty that transcends time and space. Like delicate petals unfurling in the breeze,
Look at me!
Relax! Let your reflexes take the lead, Inhale, exhale: it's air retail— Please, buy in bulk, and use in time, agreed? We're free, e.i. released on bail,
Don’t Waste your time hating your Waist
“What a waste”, they said to me, “just look at your waist”, I simply wish that all of this fat in me could be erased. I waste so much money on junk food, not healthy food,
Diani AlvarengaPublished about a year ago in PoetsI'll Do It When I Have Time.
The laundry is piling like a mountain, My sink is fuller than a fountain, Oh! My desk looks like another mountain! My carpet looks like its been rolling
Carol TownendPublished about a year ago in Poets"Rebel's Respite: Ode to the Last Benchers"
In the realm of last benchers, we reside, Where dreams awaken and spirits collide. Amidst the chaos, we find our own way,
Shilpa RawadePublished about a year ago in Poets