Slam poetry: that magical mix of rhythm and rhyme.
When I make memories I don’t worry about preserving them, Making something tangible out of them; mementos. I feel as if it takes you away from the moment itself.
By Ayesha Javed8 years ago in Poets
Who the fuck am I??? What the FUCK, am I supposed to be doing?! INTERROBANG!!!!! I like the weirdest shit. I do the weirdest shit.
By Haley Ward8 years ago in Poets
It was dawn, And all Fruit were Loops, And the Cookies were Crisp. The silly rabbit knew Trix were for kids, And knives were not to be played with.
By Valerie Holt8 years ago in Poets
College Students College students are weird. They start studying when the days draw near; Literally two days before the final day,
By Zvikomborero Mareesa8 years ago in Poets
Inside of me is a light undimmable, untamable, untouchable. Outside me is a fight and, they have brought their best men. They are trying to capture me, to confuse me and use me;
the monarch butterflies in my stomach have migrated for the winter fluttering about and keeping me warm while distance keeps us apart
By Kolyah Shoni8 years ago in Poets
Another day I walk home; Alone in the dark All of my worries transpire from under the shadows, and reveal themselves My whole way home:
By Lyrical Adam8 years ago in Poets
Troubled past, dark shadows loom on the horizon like overcast I'm going back but not without letting go of what I've learned last
By Chris Johnson8 years ago in Poets
The things we believe at 17 especially when they come from cute boys with green eyes their words we get hypnotized. Knowing most likely at the end of the day they are just lies to get into our hearts and in between our thighs but at 17 you don't think.
By cheyenne 8 years ago in Poets
The hold you've had on me is one I will never understand This anxiety I feel is only instead my head and yet it has such power
By Jane8 years ago in Poets
A Word Wrong are our memories Telling us a dream was a reality That we were meant to be That we hadn’t ever fought
By Tiana Wolfe8 years ago in Poets
You found me sad. But what happiness, Does an outcast have? For baby, I’m a prisoner. A prisoner shackled, To iron bars,
By Chloe A 8 years ago in Poets
