Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
Ice Valley (painting byMarie381Uk) A quiet place, so cold, so still, Hiding deep behind the hill. Shining blue, like frozen sky,
By Marie381Uk about a month ago in Poets
I remembered how you smiled The small sparks in your eyes when your soul flicked You didn't know some of those were lies, but you tried it all
By KuroHoshiabout a month ago in Poets
“Hey let me know when you get home” “I’m home.” “Are you safe?” “It’s 2 am and it’s dark out be careful of unmarked cars”
By Cadmaabout a month ago in Poets
The Bay Of Bengal The sun goes down, A bright orange ball. Waves roll in, Gentle and small. Fishermen laugh,
The Clutter in My Mind Why do we hoard the clutter in our heads? Why do we let it crawl inside our hearts, play with our emotions,
The Gallows Wait For Me I sit here on my bed, Ready to face the gallows. For something I never did. Cold-blooded murder? No.
A green cocoon hung from my grandfather’s bicycle. I watched, wide-eyed, as he whispered to me about what was happening in there.
By Mezmurabout a month ago in Poets
Granny’s Ghost Granny’s ghost sits in her chair, Rocking slowly, thin as air. Eyes like whispers, soft and deep, Watching while the children sleep.
We cry differently, some in silence, some out loud, some behind closed doors, some in crowded rooms
By Artical Mediaabout a month ago in Poets
I Left My Name in a Place That Forgot Me I left my name in a place that forgot me. Not all at once, not dramatically, but the way dust settles on furniture no one uses anymore—quiet, patient, inevitable.
By Talhamuhammadabout a month ago in Poets
Today reminded me that being an adult doesn’t always mean being treated like one. I thought adulthood would come with a certain respect
By Foxyabout a month ago in Poets
I used to stare at my hands and wonder if they were meant for anything. Nothing felt like mine, not my smile, not my voice, not even my mornings.
By John Smithabout a month ago in Poets
