slam poetry
Slam poetry: that magical mix of rhythm and rhyme.
The Hero
Heroes aren’t made overnight but they’re born everyday. Thinking to myself who’s going to save the hero if she’s fighting this way. Does love save the multitude that’s still scattered in the field. The angels are in the outfield, does victory even feel. The hero wants the best no matter the connection, maybe because she feels like everybody has a destiny in heaven. Her enemies are those she draws near too without weapons of armory. Fully unbalanced hoping and blinded at the weighted harmonies. She knows that she shouldn’t fight this way so instead she prays. Sometimes the poison is seen a mile away, but she knows that running is just the thrill of a chase. Maybe because she’s use to things being this way. Fighting a battle as if a disease was swarming in her face. We live, we trace to become conquers of the conqueror hidden in space. The hero just needs strength each day. Even the hero gets tired but chooses to live each day. The tears, the battles, the changes, the channels, the dignity, the light, the ambiguity from her master. Divine touches placed in the torches of hell, she’s rescued and saved only to find she’s the only one there. Never living in fear, never worried about where life takes her because she knows how to love and for the hero beauty is the covering from above. Inside and out day in and day out she sacrifices, she gives, she enlightens, she uplifts. She sets examples because no one set them for her the ones that were never shown love knows love when they choose to grow. The knowledge is only applicable when you seek him in his words. I know I can’t get to heaven only by good works. Only God can rescue his angels. She takes up that oath, no cape, just tennis shoes, some jeans and her cloak. They tried to take away her power but she’ll forever use words. Changes and challenges come to strengthen her soul. The dark palaces that was placed in her world written on a map that created the girl. Transformation of a transplantation through the evaluation of selfless determination the evolution of evolving into the Woman gods creating. Seeking forgiveness for generations the hero only generates what given and irreplaceable. The life savior, the life changer. No EMT but the creditability of a life saver. She wouldn’t dare let anyone change her. So the hero fights even without a cape. Come dressed in disguise as who else can relate.
Charelle LandersPublished 6 months ago in PoetsSymphony of Smooth
Smooth. It's the echo of a midnight sigh – a whisper in the silence. STOP. It's a canvas painted with the strokes of a velvet touch,
Kevin NewtonPublished 6 months ago in PoetsYou Never Loved Me
You stole the sparkle from my eyes; Destroyed my beautiful personality, And made me cry. You told me I was useless, Worthless,
Carol TownendPublished 6 months ago in PoetsDrowsy Clouds
My peripheral vision is slowly being consumed by dark, slithering shadows with monstrous beast-like claws, resembling scaly, serpent-headed men
The Wizard Of Odd
Disturbing - flying monkeys and witches on fire A heartless, oil-can junkie and brainless scarecrow, for hire A lion, with no courage
Kelli Sheckler-AmsdenPublished 6 months ago in Poetssugar and spice and everything nice. OW.
butterfly wings shuddering in my peripheral vision the knock of a throbbing vein cascades my overworked brain why does everything have to go wrong?
Out Of My Mind On Dope And Speed
Introduction I have not been feeling good this week and added to all the drugs I normally take I have had to take a hell of a lot more, and it brought to mind this Julian Cope song. I love Julian Cope and this is an excuse for a villanelle. By the way, I am absolutely fine.
Mike Singleton - MikeydredPublished 6 months ago in PoetsGym Senryu
TW: ...Offensive Language! Said "bitch be humble"... Would that man stop to bumble? He used all the weights!
Why Would You?
Circling like vultures, not strong enough to kill your prey; Waiting for the right moment to strike, praying for my rot and decay.
Jollyoddbod PoetryPublished 6 months ago in PoetsSmooth like a Voice
Words dripping slowly like honey Sweet Sweet are the words I want to hear Words weaving silken promises like holy Prophecies, cunning
I Am a Christmas Card
I’m sent towards the end of the year, to aid in spreading Christmas cheer. Tattoo me with an address, it’s my delight, I must confess.
Rowan FinleyPublished 6 months ago in PoetsJust PB&J’S From Now On
As smooth as Skippy The type of man I’m drawn to Stupid pick-up lines
Kelli Sheckler-AmsdenPublished 6 months ago in Poets