Novel & Cerita Maybe A Spoken Word Poem

I hide it so well, I smile my mind run miles, I speak no words my energy’s thought… I’m troubled. Can you see? My eyes wonder every path, My mind has wondered about, I wonder……’ ‘No, no, no. I cannot do this to myself. The moment I allow this thoughts, this poem conversion of mine to go on, I will go deeper. I need to stop thinking’

my mom encouraged, wanting to hear about my experiences in therapy. "Well, my therapist advises me to confront and process the events that have happened to me instead of suppressing them. Ignoring them will only cause me more distress in the long run. Therapy can be challenging, as it often feels physically exhausting, with my limbs feeling fatigued on a daily basis. However, my ability to speak has not been significantly affected. The attractive rasp in my voice is gradually fading."

"How could an inconsequential existence such as mine ever cross a mind as developed as yours. So I am just going to hide in the shadows, As your light illuminate me forever more..." When she finished her recital, there was a deafening silence that overwhelmed the crowd for a moment. Everyone of the audience members waited for a few seconds. Waited, almost as if the words were like water that needed to be absorbed completely by a sponge. The poem that she just presented was an original that she wrote roughly three months ago, right after Shane saved her when she was attacked by a group of men. Shane was speechless when he heard the words that she said. He could tell that everything she said c

Yam whispered, “I think it’s time.” They decided to organize a small evening at the studio: Verses Once Afraid to Speak. It was a chance for others to share their own stories, to find their own voices. People gathered under soft lights, tea in hands, blankets across shoulders. The mural listened, as always, its colors vibrant and alive. Yam stood first, his heart pounding in his chest. He read the poem, his voice steady despite the tremor of emotion. The room exhaled when he finished, a collective breath of understanding and acceptance. No applause. Just understanding.

I will miss our trips to the nearby pool, We'd rather read books there and pretend to be cool, I want to say goodbye one more time and cry with one more kiss, Goodbye, my mother, it's you I will forever miss, When the storms fill my eyes, and all the feels make me cry, I'll remember your sweet lullabies as I say, 'Goodbye. Jeremy leaves the microphone, and everyone next to me pats my back. I never knew what to say at funerals. Poems were the only words that made sense to me. Of course, they don't make sense to other people, but to me, that poem wasn't for them. The sparrow in the tree spreads its wings and flies out into the clouds. I know deep down that's the last time I will ever see that

They announced the first one who will perform, and it was Mark. "What the heck?" Theo was confused. Everyone cheered for him. He started playing the guitar, then Theo and I were shocked when Mark announced that he found a piece of paper in the old bathroom with a poem in it. He recited it. "I was reincarnated because of your eyes Forest under eyelids The ember we lit in February Remained in my heart But how long do I have to hide? How long will it take for me to finally say the words? The words that swirl on my lips

Ciara's POV "Unsaid words are the ones that break me, The words I never said because of closure that was never brought Shaking my leg anxiously due to those unsaid words You broke me Everything you do, you have broken me." Shan delivers a reading of my poem assignment for the Arts Appreciation Class. We are both in our first year of college and went to Father Saturnino Urios University. "I hope I've handled everything. You are fortunate, and you have made a poem. Can you make me one?" he asked, "I'm not prepared yet! Please, for the sake of me."

so it can't be her. "Let's just ask like what if okay? Just what if? What if she changed her last name? That poem of yours can't reach the galaxy you know" got the point. But he got a point what if that Sachiko from my childhood recited this poem to her friends then her friends recited to their friends and the line goes on and ended that this Sachiko Walter happens to hear it or read it.

"I know you must have been cramming the one you wrote yourself earlier. Sorry, you would have to unlearn them and begin to get this one into your brain, rehearsals begin next week!" I felt sad after Mrs. Stella turned down my poetry work. At least, she should have corrected the errors and fix in all the literary devices she wanted. Even at most, she should have told me to go and make up another poem entirely, not giving me the one someone else wrote. I believed that was plagiarism because I will be performing spoken-word poetry of a work I didn't compose by myself. Absurd! " Sharon, are you going to be performing the poem you wrote by yourself? I mean did Mrs. Stella allow you to use the poe

Some parents had pulled their daughters. Some sponsors had vanished. But the girls who came? Stayed. They sat taller. They spoke slower, with more weight. They knew now that words could shift power. One by one, they read their pieces—not with volume, but with clarity. And when it was Amarachi’s turn, she stood before the crowd, her hands no longer shaking, and read the poem that would shake the city: “They say I should keep his name inside my throat, Like a stone I’m supposed to swallow.