Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
I have drank water from something intolerable! The stench is in my throat - daily, I think of what I could do! At first, the person who "fell in love" with me, said - "you're not that bad, and we could help"!
By 365poetry8 days ago in Poets
Administering Characteristically, Reprehensibly ____________________________________________________ A/N: Solidarity. May those who oppress in the name of power find no shelter come winter.
By Matthew J. Fromm8 days ago in Poets
Here comes the train down the track. Here I get on, never to look back. I’m on my way — yes, I’m on my way. Green line, green line, green line train!
By Gabriel Shames8 days ago in Poets
The devil could not tempt me No The devil seized my hand, his voice a hiss of spite. He tried to drag me through the dark,
By Marie381Uk 8 days ago in Poets
I've eaten "Ice-cream" before - AMEN! I've eaten "Ice-scream" before - AMEN! Sometimes it's weird learning how to spell! At first I've learnt that scream is a shout!
By 365poetry9 days ago in Poets
Some of us ladies, aren't great at this thing here; so I'll just tell you what I've been thinking, HERE! Valentines day, 1998 - he said he had a "GIRLFFRIEND".
Dog Slavary On The Rise Stood on a chair like a four legged maid red cap on tight, and my dignity frayed a sponge in paw, suds up to my nose
By Marie381Uk 9 days ago in Poets
George Formby‘s Tune Didn’t need a book to teach him words found him, cheek first in smoke halls and sticky floors where the punchlines rolled
I'm not really into politics But I know politics is really into me Into you and everyone I pass in the street It's in the places where I buy my groceries
By Cadma9 days ago in Poets
on the streets of Tunisia lie amon’ the fracas n' ruckus is a jazz big band, rumblin’, bumpin’, and screamin’,
By Thomas Bryant9 days ago in Poets
Dirty Old Town The streets are thick with soot and rain a child stands waiting, thin with pain her dress is torn, her shoes are weak
Branch-less trees sway in dead gales on the pursed lips of fanged cliffs. Conscious yet breathless sentinels guarding the dark trails of lead veils and red glyphs.
By Kale Sinclair9 days ago in Poets
