Slam poetry: that magical mix of rhythm and rhyme.
Hugs... from your significant other. I can't remember the last time you held me. I don't even think I can remember the last time you meant it.
By Poetic Bank8 years ago in Poets
As they cut the arteries in my chest they broke my heart for the first time, They cut and stitched and frankensteined my heart together,
By Scratch8 years ago in Poets
The idea master. The conductor of productivity. Just a little manufacturing needed. A, B, C, D AnD even more. Just iDeas AnD then we folD.
By Crissy DXCII8 years ago in Poets
The first time A boy ever told me he loved me and “meant it,” I said “Thanks” He’s babbling on, won’t shut the hell up, and I’m thinking
By Ash Martinez8 years ago in Poets
Her, Him, he, she, them, us, we… Sometimes I wish it wasn't right. Or even meant to be. You see, I been mean While I was asking, “what you mean?"
Do you process easily? I thought about this question Over and over. Questioning. This quest I must get before it… becomes a questioning.
Much can be said about poetry. Structure, rhymes, and play on words. All part of the poetry directory. Much less than calling it direct to me.
Young yes. But, I understand many things in life. Like… relationships, taxes, money, health… Working class, and even being a wife.
He saw his own shadow. It was a continuous reminder of his past. When he looked down, he saw his father, The one he never knew, but was resurrected by Malcolm’s autobiography.
By Naima Bartholomew8 years ago in Poets
Burning inside and it never comes out. I never let it. This is why you all think I am normal. In my head I'm a robot, a tick…
He told me yes, I am beautiful I am as beautiful as God made me. I would look in the mirror counting, 1, 2 and 3 Eyes, nose, lips and skin all wonderful.
We’re all just strangers Trapped in a world of dangers Put behind the pit of the street Just for the rhyme of a beat No, before we were seen
By Michael Ross8 years ago in Poets
