Word Poems - Poems about Word

I stood on top of the mountain looking at the distant that I am coming from, I see the universe swelling around me and the mass parading before me, I have never been to the mountain top but I could feel destiny resting in my lap. Life has taken on a new meaning and I...

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(Yo Bone hits the Mic, lights dim) soulful Urban Funk/ Ain't no genre/ it's a feeling/ Downtempo Swing beats lovers in tight/ Lo-Fi whispers through the city's roar, Urban Pop shimmers, not for ghetto listeners, that’s for sure/ Soulful Hip-Hop, on a hot summer day, Breaks in the beat, gotta have it your way/...

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Bad sick brains/ A jolt to the soul Energy raw, untamed, a primal scream/ Then Blink-182, "First Date," pop punk dreams, sixty million views, a digital stream, what a bad dream/ is anybody makin’ money nowadays? But views ain’t loyalty, tour duty, the grit and the grind/ The scar tissue earned, a chair...

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Rebel Houston (Snaps fingers) Acoustic Digital Hybrid... a breath, a fusion. So, what lurks beyond jazz funk, huh?/ Thinkin' big time, are you? Do you dig? Can you feel it as you pursue your passion for this jazz thing/ The inventive spirit of Rebel Houston burns, A saxophone supernova, learning, turning. Always into what's NEXT,/ not...

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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,...

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"The Last Time You Raised Your Hand" This is the last time you raise your hand against me. This skin, this temple, this war-torn body you tried to claim — I take it back. You thought love was something you could twist at the wrist, bend at the knee, snap at the neck of my dreams — but I am unbreaking. I have stitched myself up with the thread...

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I’m tired. Not the kind you sleep off— the kind that settles in your bones like a storm that never passes. I’m tired of checking the volume of my laughter like it’s a detonator. Of reading the room like it’s a battlefield— every silence a sniper, every glance a grenade. I’m tired of memorizing exits before I memorize names. Of mapping escape routes in the time it takes to say...

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They unearthed him from the Delta dust/ Do Fletch, a name whispered on the wind, in a rusted tone/ Born and bred in NOLA's humid heart, A city sculpted by sorrow, torn apart, then rebuilt from the start/ Do Fletch not a singer, not an artist, not a star in the sky, but a conduit,...

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I'm not sure when you left, but my guess is, it's been a process from the beginning. Maybe the moment you left heaven's presence you longed for its essence, and left unnoticed? Or was it when your freedom fell, taken from the grips of hell, and all it taught you to believe about yourself, and life? Or maybe when the one you felt could change...

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I'm not sayin you don't have a right to feel the way you do, but have you considered every avenue, every stream that lines information directly to you? Have you considered perspective? That what appears to be truth could be, in actuality, subjective - effective truth hidden behind piercing offensive lies? Have you considered that life is like a puzzle, and every piece...

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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...

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He took an oath beneath the chandelier palace, tongue lapping at furtive moth wings. A crown of collectible bottle caps balanced on his warty brow. Lilith bowed as he passed, her petals muttering oaths. Tadpoles formed a scepter’s ascendency, guiding his webbed ascent. In the court of cattails and reeds, he declared dominion over ripples. Bullfrogs drummed a royal cadence, while dragonflies danced in tribute. But power...

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You who worship yourself, listen carefully. I won’t shout. I don’t have to. Truth cuts deeper when it’s whispered. You raise your hands high, but not to the God who made you. You worship the mirror. You exalt dust. You crown yourself king over a kingdom made of ashes. You pray, but only for yourself. You sing, but only about yourself. You preach, but only to glorify...

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It's only 2:00 am. I even waited to take the drugs till midnight, so I wouldn't have to fight an extra 2 hours through the night Not that it makes much of a difference. In 4.5 hours my alarm will go off (not that I really need one) and I'll continue to just survive each torturous moment. The only difference is the daytime doesn't have the...

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These next _ minutes are going to be hard... I open my eyes Not sure what time it is, but I bet I can guess. The drugs never work for more than 2 hours, and the distress from the pressure in my head and throat has been suppressing more than 2 hours of sleep a night for months now - even with the drugs. They have...

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