performance poetry
Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
Roots of Love
In the garden of life, where seeds of love are sown, Stands the steadfast oak, in winds of time it's grown. With roots so deep, yet branches wide,
India- The food for our soul is love
India is the land of diverse cultures. Where we live submerged in the sweetness of nuanced flavors of customs that make us alive. Lost in a land of fondness, enriched by the tenderness of beliefs we all are different in existing realities, but there is one thing that binds us together-food. To relish the sweetness of life, we often taste the bitter vinegar of adversities. The melodious cacophony of joy radiates on our abode when the hours of plight grind the periphery of our strength.
Hridya SharmaPublished 2 months ago in PoetsDon’t Follow The Crowd
When we go out at night, we feel a freedom that the day cannot copy. When they go out at night, we assume the worst.
Real PoeticPublished 2 months ago in Poetsthe perfect post
he might want me to fix him but he doesn't want to be fixed and i'd do anything to get him to do anything but the same but nothing is going to change
⸘jason alan‽Published 2 months ago in PoetsKeep your head up
Been doin’ a whole lot of thinkin’ ‘Bout people bringin’ me down Sometimes I feel like I'm sinkin’ While the world is just standin’ and watchin’ me drown
The Gentle Beast
From the east he roams Having never found a home of his own Always dragging his stone with him Wherever he goes it goes
Atomic HistorianPublished 2 months ago in PoetsNO!
Let me explain for those that are slow to understand: the meaning of 'NO'. ~ It isn't a temporary hesitation That gets in the way of your satiation.
Judey KalchikPublished 2 months ago in PoetsOcean's Inquiry Poem
Who am I today? Who am I tomorrow? What breaking wave will swallow me whole? What moment of stillness will I try to behold?
just for a day
I decide to be happy - just for today, just a day 24 hours - reminders - I decide to be hopeful - just for -
Paul StewartPublished 2 months ago in Poets- Top Story - March 2024
Petals
I disrobe all of my black clothes at the sun’s close. Then let the moonlight illuminate my brown toes. I allow them to seep deep into the warm soil of the crown rose.
Small
I’m changing, choking, crying, lingering, laughing Am I the laughable laughingstock Am I the one who has been tossed aside, ashore, away, or flat on my back like a whore
Melissa IngoldsbyPublished 2 months ago in PoetsThe Morning Of February 29th
On the cusp of "The Great Escape", I sense a coming dawning, Of paradigm precedent, and slingshot de-loaded; Not for the first time,