Love Slam Poems | Examples
These Love Slam poems are examples of Slam poems about Love. These are the best examples of Slam Love poems written by international poets.
Real eyes see truth where the neon dies,
real lies get sold in the tourist guides.
I realize Harlem’s still beating inside,
though condos creep up and the rents multiply.
Real highs in the drums on a Saturday night,
real cries in the dark when the bills get tight.
Surreal eyes dream past the gentrified scene,
where bodegas were kingdoms and the block was a queen.
Reel lies keep playing on the subway wall,
but real ties still gather when the elders call.
I realize Harlem’s a poem, a hymn,
no matter who’s moving out or who’s moving in.
Real eyes catch the cracks in the concrete,
real lies get whispered where the landlords meet.
I realize Harlem ain’t sleeping—it fights,
its pulse in the corner, its soul in the nights.
Real highs in the jazz spilling out of a door,
real cries when the system don’t love us no more.
Reel lies keep spinning on a flashing screen,
but surreal eyes still guard the unseen.
Real ties in the roots of this sacred ground,
real wise in the stories the elders pass down.
I realize Harlem’s not fading away—
it’s stitched in my blood, it’s here to stay.
Yes ma, I am a boy and I don't like the lack of favour which I had been offered so I wont sit with the others and this is because I am a tainted boy, who found what love was on the tint of my phone, blocking out the camera with my thumb in case it records because although I was young I had already known what it meant to be seen, just like on the silver of my screen which had reflected my face in a way that I had deemed as inappropriate, I'd rather not associate with my features, specifically the brown in which I wear or my tainted hair, it coils. What is love? I am a boy with my hands on my phone but I would rather have spent those days held by you ma and although I'm young I'd have sown what love is, like how I could tear open the ducts on my face, yes I sometimes cry when you are not there. I am sad all the time Ma, kanti izandla zami ezani?(what are my hands for)
I want to be loved.
I'm too quiet
I talk too much
I'm too involved
I'm way too out of touch
I'm too messy
I care too much about things being clean
I'm too kind
I'm way too f*ckin mean
I'm too close
I'm too far away
I went to bed too early
I stayed up too late
I'm too skinny
I'm too big
I'm too generous
I'm a stingy f*ckin bi*ch
I should have still cooked for you
When you said you wouldn't eat
And you said I should go out with my friends
Then asked where the hell I've been
And I'm too timid
I'm too bold
I'm too immature
I act too old
And I'm too happy
And I'm far too blue
It doesn't matter what I am
It isn't good enough for you
If I made ends meet by meeting millions of millionaires in meetings galore,
would you care to explore my heart?
If I made up my mind to resign, and spend my time at a diner,
behind the scenes,
would you find a way to care about me?
If I took up poetry, and wrote hundreds of stories,
told in metaphor, with rhyme and prosody,
creating irony in euphony,
depicting pictures no eye can see,
neither mind comprehend without a beating heart,
would yours skip a beat?
Would you see the beauty that breathes beyond ink and paper?
Would you see its creator and stupor in thought?
Would you suffocate in the fog that envelopes body and mind,
unable to find the words to tell the story of your sentiment?
Would it spark a desire to explore and admire my entire being-
every minor detail?
To be real, do you even know me at all,
or just the stale version that pales in comparison to the whole?
I want you to know the whole of me,
and want to hold me for it.
If God is hateful
explain where love comes from.
If God is your equal,
define the body
and how each piece flows as one,
and recreate it.
If God is betrayal
convince me your life is done,
that you're not just undone,
but unfinished.
If God is pure punishment
explain replenishment,
recuperation
and recovery.
Your discovery of God is not set in stone
and neither is mine.
So give Him some time to show you these rhymes
are more than mere poetry,
not solely words on a page.
Go on and gauge what the 'h' this means for yourself
She lay in his arms
listening to his heart
knowing forever
they’d never part
Not time nor death
will destroy their love
souls now synced
below and above
Rhythms do flow
hearts become one
now so connected
and won’t be undone
She feels him deep
he feels her more
a cosmic slam dunk
the perfect score
tethered forever
throughout all of time
bodies in tune
with poetry & rhyme.
Does my posture hint who I am
At open mic poetry slam
I prefer to hide behind lime winged words
On my pc or tablet or pen paper if I have it
Will my message get loosely lost
As you notice the style of hair I toss
If I am short tall fat or thin
Do YOU hear my message or take my presence in
I don't always walk up to the mic
And I'm wondering this teal thought tonight
Is my heart a red paper valentine
That presents as giving up on love in time
I stand here on this stage
Full of fear desiring fuchsia praise
Seeking love of audience in my way
Unity and community follow my page
I am mistaken I am not a poet
Just a lost soul hoping to grow it
That special something the it factor
Standing on stage as a benefactor.
If you notice my shoes
You know I'm an old soul
Hearing my heart is bruised
Told you so.
I get confused with the snaps and claps
All I want from you is a spiritual tap.
I stood too long before the crowd
I read my poem in a voice so loud
I feel relief like yellow sun from cloud
Thanks for listening glad I came out.
We can work it out
If not together
And all else fails
Than surely alone
Without suffering the total and
utter indignity
Of our loved one seeing our tears
of pain drain from our red cracked
blistered eyes
Whom will eventually trickle down
either side of our uneven listening faces
That cannot though best we may try to
hide exactly how broken into countless
tiny pieces in actuality it is
Whilst still pretending to carry on
regardless as if we do not have a
care in the world
And that's all well and good as long
as it is day and has not passed over
to night
Because unfortunately sadly then when
we eventually go to bed
The realization comes crashing in that
it is all but you and your head for constant
company
And the pair of you cannot for the life
of you
Work out anything as simple as
1 + 1
Without them never mind you
Cometh the end of each and every
December
January so to with it as well bringeth a
new year to start a fresh once all over
again
And though the time and date and
solar winds may change
The seasons somehow however never seemingly do
The sky is still just as blue as the sun
is red grass is green as is the night
tinged in black
Just as like when spring and summer
eventually return and dawn
Denote it's time to pack away our
winter warming clothes into the
back of our closets and cupboard
draws
That unless we truly feel within and
inside our head and heart's
A certain individual kind of love
and caring does reside that warms
us dearly
Then matter's not the time or season
place or age
Tomorrow they will be no more richer or
poorer
If nothing changes and everything remains
I love her
My mind goes on and on when i’m not with her
She’s sweet like dessert
I want her in my arms so I can kiss her
I’m not a wisher
Yet I hope all this love can be there with her
So now i’m stressin
How much time do I got before I’ll miss her
How is life gon treat me
What will it do to try and take her
I can’t let it fool me
Can’t get caught up, can’t let it hurt her
I won’t let it stop me
I’ll do whatever if it protects her
And there’s just one reason
it’s all because I really in love her
The things we see can be seen one of two ways
Either full of color or just straight black and white
The coexistence of natural dark and our light
But we choose to see what we think is right
Whether it’s believing that love is true
Or saying it’s something that has no meaning
A concept formed completely on a ruse
Yet it’s strength comes from its own fragility
The words “I love you” might be built so cynically
Cuz these emotions we have were formed separate from our identity
Am I happy cuz of things that are genuine
Or is this all fake so i can continue livin
Ignorin my feelins that my mind’s distillin
It’s like this whole world’s full of conflictions
Conditions and missions to keep us from wishin
But I choose to do the exact opposite
Like a drug I get so high I can’t get off of it
What’s right, what’s wrong, is it fake or nonfiction
Everything we done built up is all a contradiction
I love everything that occurs
between sunrise to sunset
When I am and fall asleep
Even my worst nightmares
As ill take them all day long
Rather than the reality I awaken up to
Because they are always the same
They never seemingly change
Come what may
To my delight this very eve
My favorite green eyed bubble did appear
And changed my mood
For most definitely the better
The only way I can describe it is
Akin to recieving a love letter
Or valentine card
Whence feeling all alone
And dropping like a stone
I have been systematically bitting
my nails since I was 6 year's old
so I am told
Sometimes way down past where
the skin begins and blood starts
And it hurts so much I can't even
pick stuff up
And yes I know it's a filthy habit and
it really hurts
I have somehow never been able to stop
So what is the explanation or only
conclusion to be gained
Am I in fact a sadist do I love pain
1 thing is most definitely for certain
I must quite obviously be stupid
because I know what I am doing
to myself
And even despite all this I still won't
be stopping any time soon
Nailed it
What's with such
Big Boot's
With such
Tiny Feet
Is it maybe perhaps because
Right deep down to your inner soul
You feel incomplete
And the reason why
You love to stick the boot in
Whenever and at every chance
you possibly can
Because it makes you somehow
feel far less tinny and big instead
So very sad the thing's that people
have to do
Rather than just making Doo with
and making the best with what they
we're given in the 1st place