I'm enjoying writing spoken word poems, challenging.
[You, the speaker, sit on a chair. Back straight. Hands still. The room is too quiet.] I became a fault line people swore they felt tremble— even when the ground never moved. [Lift your eyes. Don’t move anything else.] A rumour sparked, struck like flint against my name. My silence— they shaped it into a monster, a shadow they insisted had teeth. [Lean forward, elbows on knees. Voice low.] I walked into the courtroom like stepping into a lion’s throat, and still walked out whole. But echoes cling. Smoke remembers what fire never touched. [Stand slowly. Let the chair creak] So hear me now. My silence was a drawn blade, not surrender. [Step away from the chair. One step only. Stand tall] This— right here— is the line carved clean through the dust. And I do not move.
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.