Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
Insane, membrane, brain barrier, Fall over and feel, The grass pressing softly, sharply, Until you can walk, not reel.
By Colin Hope9 years ago in Poets
Spare the rod, and spoil the run- look into my eyes, and fall- entranced from staring at the sun, we burned the writing
By Ron Walker9 years ago in Poets
These words won't get Me high at night, But I'm a poet- I can fly... I guide the hook into the blues, And fish for feelings
I do not like the dark. Hypothetically speaking No one likes the dark, the dark embodies everything That which is sent to destroy us, our souls, our
By A. Rose9 years ago in Poets
Hello! I'm awkward. I say too much, feel too much, drink too much to make up for my shitty social skills. I'm socially inept. Sometimes I become paralyzed at the thought of conversation. So much so, my tongue trips over words I clumsily try to place like bad feng shui in an overly crowded, darkened house. Maybe all I am is sweaty palms and impromptu leaving too soons.
By V H9 years ago in Poets
This life is a darkroom, In which we immerse our negatives, Only to develop delusions, We suppress with sedatives. Weak in the knees for any escape,
By Bray Maelzer9 years ago in Poets
Tough Truckin’ As the Puritans dried up the alcohol And the influenza virus waned, As another anniversary of Red summer came around
By Terri Lyons9 years ago in Poets
Blood, Sweat, and Fire The Wonderful World of Disney gave us a Sunday evening rest, We anticipated Ed Sullivan’s line up of guests
Happiness is not a place. Happiness is a feeling. It can be present in the darkest ghetto. And absent in the largest mansion.
By Amanda Zylstra9 years ago in Poets
A Soldier Stepping out of the shadows of death Re-entering the life that I once knew A Soldier returning home from war
By Pearl Allen9 years ago in Poets
He looked at her like she was the moon as she looked at him like he was a divine, ethereal being. Even though she was fine being hidden
By Amber Crocker9 years ago in Poets
I remember when my mom looked at me in the eyes and told me that I looked depressed.... I looked her right back into her eyes and lied that I wasn't stressed...
By Tongwa Ngu9 years ago in Poets
