Poets in Motion

Poets in Motion

We’re celebrating National Poetry Month with our first poetry contest. Submit your most artistic, emotional, or hilarious original poetry inspired by movement—whatever that means to you. Use #VocalNPM to enter.

Tiffany Harrya month ago
Head Out
Head Out Stars are singeing and falling. Evil is blossoming Animals are dying Soldiers are fighting Values are dead Bad images fill my head World has changed Protestors are screaming While the Preside...
Tiffany Harrya month ago
My War Is Over
Thrashing, crashing, smashing The sound of my head bashing Against the wall by Mr. Know It All You walk away laughing while my Whole worlds crashing. Pumping, thumping, my heart races Leaving bloody t...
SKYLERIZED a month ago
Human Inventiveness
Do you want a miracle? One that makes The custodian CEO and all The patients their own doctors? It would take A small person to become eight feet tall. Grasshoppers could take and offer advice. Giraff...
SKYLERIZED a month ago
Cash Like That
Digital funds flow like shocks that all send Through the Internet. Money rolls through The system when the apps are all friends. The nature of the funds then becomes new. The speed is cash pouring out...
Ellie shaula month ago
Change in the Movement
Like rushing waves crashing on the beige shore, The feelings rush in, I can’t take anymore. Bang, bang, another slammed door. Can’t remember the last time someone stayed. When will this jealousy fade....
Kristin Wilsona month ago
Matrix: Project Disengage
Some days I want to change the world, some days I want to hide away... Detach myself from it all and build a barricade. Up steep mountains I climb, in murky waters I wade... I’m determined to see just...
Donelle Maloneya month ago
The Tides of You
Slight movements create A slight abundance of hate And still the movements concur Gaining momentum You being to stir A flash of pain A flash of ecstasy A flask of love Poured hot on bare skin It burns...
Brent Horlinga month ago
A Life Rewritten
I surrender to the grass that is sharp; to blades that are green I remember days that be long gone; passed youth as a teen Last December; cold times for my life; for my dreams Forgotten pleasure; late...
Brent Horlinga month ago
Stranger to My Skin (Pt. 3)
Locked up without a cause or reason for, I found myself staring out a window. It was a desolate tree and I love that tree. The walls were as white as eggshells and the floor was tiled. Day one I was c...