performance poetry
Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
Jump
The day I went back to the place I once felt so happy. The place that filled me with happiness and laughter. Even to this day it does the exact same, but things are different now. The air is different, the smell, the sounds; it’s all wrong. I just don’t know how to fix this, I’m frozen with it running through my mind at high speed, I can’t capture a thought long enough to use it. I realize time doesn’t heal a thing, we just simply live with it. We’re given second chances but things are different this time around, It’s not the same as it once was. I stand on the edge wondering what went so wrong within that time? I feel the breeze against my face, I glance down to realize there’s nowhere left to go. Who knows what’s down there, not you. Not me. If I don’t take my chance now I’ll never know. I take one more look around the place I once felt so safe and take a deep breath, close my eyes and jump.
By Hannah-jo Marks8 years ago in Poets
Whirlpool
I often sit and wonder what it would be like now, but I instantly rush to push that thought aside. I’m sat with a million waves crashing through my brain and I’m allowing myself to drown, I lay my head back and just get caught in the drift and now I have no clue where I've ended up, I've just accepted it. This is how it is now. Constantly trying to grasp on to the only thing I have which is collapsing between my fingers, so transparent. Breathing in intoxicating myself with every thought, losing my mind with the same tune playing over and over telling me how to blackout, but I just can’t I’m frozen in time, whirlpooling around and around with no particular direction, I gaze amongst the stars and feel such peace so I choose to stay a little longer.
By Hannah-jo Marks8 years ago in Poets
The Truth
The azure colored sky melts into a sea green grass which is under my brown bare feet. A rainbow of life seems to encircle us with a void of brilliance engulf all, but the nothing, which is our sorrow. Wisdom is not black or white, but is a greyed eyed beast that learns from trial and error. To be blind is a blessing for one can see the true colors of the soul which reveals nothing but the truth.
By Charlie Salinas8 years ago in Poets
