Maybe A Spoken Word Poem Novels & Stories

Someone had even brought a karaoke machine, which Marla eyed with suspicion. “You singing today?” River teased as they helped set up folding chairs. Marla scowled. “Only if the world ends.” But an hour later, after two teenagers performed a spoken-word duet about reclaiming girlhood, and a man read a letter to his ten-year-old self, Marla surprised everyone. She walked to the mic with a single page in her hand. Skye froze, heart pounding. Marla unfolded the page. Her voice was quiet, but strong. “Once, I was invisible.

Her tears at that time falling for me felt like a huge universe gifted my way which I was ever ready as I could be to grasp tight. I was a fucking moron to hurt her time by time. I wanted her with me. Her heartbeats to synchronize with mine. She was it for me and I wanted myself to be it for her. But not anymore. \'''If I were a poet I would write sonnets Dedicating to your beauty with utmost honest! If I were a priest! I would preach your love with utmost sweet! But Alas! I'm none of the above In your world, I am just a wild beast!'''/

She whispered clearly as she frowned. "Ma'am, please help me!" I begged. "Help?" She said and narrowed her eyes, she looks like she was inquisitive about it. "Yes, ma'am." "What help and why me?" She interrogated. "Because you might know about it," I seriously look at her eyes. "Know what?" "Your poem entitled 'I'm sorry,' ma'am. Isn't it's about a man who lived in another world?" I said and I examined her emotion, her eyes widen in horror and chaos.

Then, he left their house to go to his new school with the thought of everything seemed to be pointless now. *** He took a quick glance at his watch. Past one o’clock in the afternoon, the students were asked to proceed to the covered court of their school for a special announcement. This day was no special. He did not understand any slice of the lessons taught by their instructor because he was uninterested. He also had made no effort to talk to others for he thought that that would be pointless. Although some students were initiating a conversation, he had not given any interested rejoinder. It was as if he suddenly felt like he lapsed to a state of mind that everything was pointless now.

Then they moved to the living room to enjoy some movie or having some friendly talks with one another. "What should we do now." Theo said while looking at other three faces. "I have a good idea but I am not sure if Ady will kick my ass after hearing it." Angela said while giggling on her own words. "What idea you are talking about Angel." Adira said while raising her eyebrows at her. "Your poetry. I hadn't heard any poetry from you from a long time. You used to write sadness but pure feelings in your poetries. So will you please recite poetry now." Angela said while looking at Adira with a smile that she was curving from her ear to ear.

it’s so unlike me . Jane009; it’s fine. Raven; I gotta go for light poem in school Jane009; bye. Raven ends the call and prepares to go for light poem. Light poem is an event for poem in school where students come with poems and read it out. The student with the best poems gets called the light king.Raven wanted to go for two reasons and that’s because she knew Caleb would be there. Caleb has a thing for poems and loves the art of it . The second reason Raven would be going is because she has been writing poems in her head a lot especially when she’s going through something so she thought to give it a try.

" Needless noise from tongues expel Unless within the mouth they dwell The spoken word, unfit for dealing with the shifting form of feeling Stand unblinking in the face of taciturn and soundless space. " I proclaimed to the wind. " ..... The heck is wrong with you? Getting all poetic like that." " It's one of my guarantees of being Misaki's product. " I said as I rolled up my sleeve and pumped magic through my veins to reveal my guarantee tag. " Version 4. 1

Children wove ribbons between trees, each one bearing a story from another node—names scrawled from Dakar, Porto, Caracas. Elise introduced the “Poetry Protocol” tent—spoken word rules of mutual listening, signed by passersby on cloth scrolls. Raven released a series of scanned filters for mobile devices, allowing people to visually flag rumors and tag verified content. By midafternoon, hundreds danced between kiosks and murals, the barrio echoing with something rare: belief, uncoerced and alive. --- But at dusk, a power blink surged across the hillside. Portable speakers sputtered. Lanterns flickered.

she quoted. Your voice is like a bird, but everyone’s ears are bleeding. From the inside, your house shines and shines, but from the outside, you can see it’s built from bones. From out here, it looks like a graveyard, and the garden’s all ash. And besides, your breath stinks. We’re through. She remembered a poem she read by Ross Gay years ago and burst out into laughter. " The last line always gets me." She laughed harder, almost falling off her bed.

You have no idea what I feel every single time that I've seen you. N: O.o please don't tell me you've written a poem about it 😂. M:... N: P.S if you have, I'm not speaking to you again. M: Maybe I have 😉 . That's for me to know and you to not find out. N:.... M: What's wrong with poems by the way? N: I don't think there's a problem with them. I actually think they're cool and appreciate them when I see them. I just don't like the idea of having one written for me.