Poetry Slam

She’s found that she prefers the obligation.
A few days without lifting the lid,
and she’s already going blind again.
She tells herself not to give up,
but let the monsters out,
black and white like music.
Don’t silence the broken notes,
she’ll put them together,
make them make sense.
Shout out to the void and listen
here comes the echo,
understanding and connection.
Fellows of the forms reach out.
One voice across the chasm,
two hands to bridge the gap,
a hundred hearts swept up by the rhythm.
She opens her eyes again.


I love poetry slams. I couldn’t get up on a stage to save my life, but watching other people perform poetry is always inspiring. This weekend I went to a festival with music and art and dancing, and I spent Saturday afternoon listening to and writing poetry.


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