Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Lyrical 6h
(This is a slam poem I had to write for class so it has all my personal notes on how to recite it typed in so just feel free to ignore those lol)

Dear my one-day daughter,
You don’t know me yet (pause)
I may not know your face (pause) but I know that the glimmer in your eyes inspires me to push through the rough patches (soft)
I may not know the sound of your voice (pause) but I already know the impact your words will have on me…
I may not know you yet (soft) (pause)
But at the same time (brief pause), I have known you long before I ever knew myself…

My little girl

She - whose eyes were always on the stars, for she was never taught to look down on herself - except to look into (elongate) the mirror to admire the body that held her. You are my daughter...not yet but one (elongate) day

My one-day daughter…  never forget your worth

Show the world your beautiful glow and allow your kindness to overflow into the hearts of others (gentle pause)

Brighten their days (kind & soft) … be their fire on the cold nights, hold their hands so they know they’re not alone, we are never alone (grow in intensity and speed then go quiet)

But most importantly don’t forget that your hand needs holding too, your heart needs protection too, your chilled bones need warmth too, You…


You (pause) with pure (elongate) joy because "sad" will not be (hold) in your vocabulary, (pause) but on the days (elongate) where the word "depression" fills your entire (elongate) dictionary (pause) I want you to know - that I (pause) still love (quiver) -you


Your fingers (elongate) are able to interlock with your own and sometimes (stress) that’s what you have to do so (quick) don’t forget to pay mind to your own blue fingertips (slow); it's ok to kiss your own cheek goodnight (soft)

It's ok to be in love (elongate) with yourself, so please…(soft)
I’m begging you (sense of urgency) (sigh)
Treat yourself kindly (add inflection almost like a question)
Treat my little girl kindly (more of a command and less of a request this time)
I have had the name Clementine picked out since I was about thirteen, so it started out as a poem dedicated to her and gradually became something deeper. It became a message to women who struggle to give themselves love. It's a message to my younger self who was so afraid of caring for herself that she only cared for others.
Alexa 1d
Hello Poetry is built
like a social media site
but those of us that make
the front page
have like 10 followers.

Personally,
I have 2
(shout out to Perry
and Fredrick Njroge)
but it's not a big deal.
Because that's not what I'm here for.

"We write to be seen,
But we slam to be heard."
Check out Lamar Jorden's poems on Youtube. "Blink" is my favorite.
zee 3d
Little girl started feeling insecure at the age of twelve, certainly it wouldn't be the last.

At first the voices didn’t get to her, but eventually, the voices got to her enveloping her into an all too familiar embrace that she wanted to escape.

At the age of 13, it was a fresh new start, it was the start of freshmen year,  little girl was actually doing okay but she couldn't help but hear the voices at the back of her head, screaming at her, comparing her to numerous other girls she saw on instagram, on runways and on the hallways, how different in size and appearance she was compared to all of them.

At the age of 14, little girl thought everything was going to change unfortunately for her, it didn’t when insecurities came crashing down onto her like how reality crashes down unto you after reading a good book, when people did not only comment how big she was but they started being more specific about their implications.

Normally, she wouldn't have taken it seriously.
Scientifically, it was normal for her to grow on those areas because, news flash, it's part of adolescence, but for her, it was just another file to add into a file cabinet, she called life. A disorganized file cabinet, she was too exhausted to organize.

14-year-old girl started wearing 2 sports bras at once, not minding how she couldn't breathe, not minding how her lungs were gasping for relaxation and to be able to be comfortable enough to grasp oxygen, but she did not care with how the way her body was begging her to give it oxygen, her body did not deserve to breathe for being such a burden in her life.

14-year-old girl also learned how to skip meals, it was the year in which she learned how to lie about her being full because it would be embarrassing enough to say that she was hungry at 6:30 am in the morning when she basically devoured everything they had for dinner, to at least fill up the gaping hole of emptiness and unsatisfaction she feels when she looks at herself in the mirror and can't a single thing to like about herself.

14-year-old girl also learned how to act, act sick so no one would question her why she threw up all the food she devoured, when in reality she grasped onto her neck, so tightly, choking herself and made her release all the chewed up food they had for dinner, unfortunately it did not release all the insecurities and coped up feelings she kept inside of her, she punished herself because her body did not deserve that satisfaction, her body did not deserve being rewarded for being such a burden in her life.

14-year-old girl told herself to not eat.  Simple.
14-year-old girl told herself that guys wouldn't like her because of her insecurities.
14-year-old girl had to swallow every tear that was made when people made fat jokes at her. That was the only thing she was good at. Swallowing, devouring, being fat. Being such a ******* burden.

Little girl was always so immersed into her body, always investing time to punish herself because she was never what the norms were.

At the age of 15 little girl gave up on caring.

15-year-old girl realized she did not need people's validation on how she should look physically.

15-year-old girl realized that her body is a temple worthy of praise and worship, not insults and comments about how it should look.

15-year-old girl understood the concept of false advertisement.  

15-year-old girl realized that she is lovable, she is worth love and she does not need any guy to show her that, that the only love she needed was love towards herself.
i was scrolling through my old notes and i found a poem i wrote back when i was 15. im 17 now and i literally cried my *** off when i read it. i decided to post it here because i feel like this page is where i can be my most authentic self. very personal so i hope u like it.

(psa: i decided to leave it as it is. did not edit it to fit my current writing "style" so yeaaa)
Aaron Apr 11
Here, have a dime,
My two cents by Five:
You're not that sublime
When it comes to being alive.

You slam some door and claim your might;
Not impressed by how you've dared
To shut the doors and scream to fight;
You're the kid that's truly scared

Of all the things you can't control,
All the things you'll never know;
Not fear nor anger will fill that hole;
Even roots must break dirt to grow.

You're stuffed in far too small a space;
Cramped wings find no room to fly;
Sometimes I wish you'd have the grace
To just let go and simply cry.

So much lost in the fear of being wrong;
A self-fulfilling prophecy in every song, when in point of fact:
There's more to life than being strong;
Your inner child's got a cataract.

You're the match that sets yourself aflame,
Because somedays you still need to feel;
Anything less would be far too tame
In this search for something real.

All I know of timeless wealth
Is how to give a loving hand;
We have to be the one to see ourself, but
By your side I Truly stand.

To speak of what's true:
If every fear is just projection
Then if I am to question you
Surely I speak to my own reflection.
connor Apr 5
It seems that the American education system values
A's on tests and higher rankings more than
The mental health of the students
who there would be no high rankings
Or A's on tests without.

Everyday I'm trying to lift myself up
Because I see myself as a
horrible, gross, ****, aggressive,
worthless, useless, clingy, ****-bound person.
I know I am not a completely good person,
But I know that I don't want others to
Feel like I do.

No one should have to feel like
Everyday will come to nothing and
That friends won't miss you and
That people will get over you at some point and
That it wouldn't matter if you killed yourself
Because you don't make a difference.

I want to be there to lift others up
In areas where I can't lift myself and
Just let them know that
It's okay to not be okay, that
Someone loves you and
I will always be one of those people, that
I'll be there even if no one else is, that
If it's 2AM and you're suicidal that
You call me or some kind of hotline
And we'll get this sorted out together.

11% of adolescents will have developed depression
by the time they turn 18.
That is not okay.
Students are reported to Guidance
when something is amiss.
Guidance counselors are there to
help with scheduling and possibly developing
academic and social skills.
They are not knowledgeable about mental health,
and lots of times teens with depression
interact with people less and
as a result lack crucial social skills for
getting jobs that fit the academic goals that
we're told matter so much that
we think that sometimes the letter grades
on paper matter more than the student
who studied for hours to
earn that grade.

1 in 6 high schoolers have solemnly considered suicide
1 in 12 will attempt suicide, that number is increasing.
The education system needs to change
In how they handle mental health.

The world needs to change
How it handles mental health.

It's killing us.
My third and final poem for the slam contest I'm entering! I audition tomorrow and I'm extremely glad that I don't need any of them memorized until the 17th, when we have a dress rehearsal.
I'm sorry it really isn't very good, but I need three by tomorrow at 10AM so yeet
connor Apr 3
Mom,
I love you.

When I was holed up in my room,
Silently dying inside,
You were the one that noticed the
Vacant expression on my face;
You were the one that coaxed me
Outside because you knew how badly
I wanted to feel the sun,
Its warmth, and to simply lay
In the grass under the dogwood tree
Again, the sun's rays
Making my vision go red
While I stare through my closed
Eyes, to be able to feel s o m e t h i n g
For a while.

You were the one offering to
Help with homework when you noticed
My grades dropping to F's and D's,
Even though you barely understood
The material.

You would leave bright orange Post-Its with
Reminders like
"Remember to drink water, you need it" and
"Take a nap, you've earned it" and
"I made your favorite sandwich, you deserve it."
Peanut butter and honey with banana slices-
Our favorite.

I never told you how much I
Loved those Post-Its;
Sometimes the sloppy semi-cursive handwriting
On the blindingly orange paper and
Its loving message were the only
Things keeping me
Going.

You were the only
Thing keeping me
Going.

Your taste in music
Isn't actually that bad.
Some of my fondest memories are
Of you half-singing, half-yelling the lyrics to
"We Will Rock You", your disgustingly contagious
Enthusiasm convincing me to half-sing, half-yell
With you,
While we drove along the highway
At 60 miles an hour.

Sure,
you're almost exclusively into
Queen and Earth, Wind, and Fire,
But I'd jam to "Radio Gaga"
Anytime- as long as you're there
To sing off-pitch with me,
Dancing our way through
Our list of chores,
Watching the music video to
"Take on Me" while
Racing to finish folding the laundry.

And, when the upbeat music
Stops, and it was time for
Little me to sleep,
You would sit by my bedside, and
Lull me off to sleep with
Your take on "You Are My Sunshine", with
Me humming along until I
Drifted into the realm of
Dreams.

I'm listening to your lullaby loop
Over and over and o v e r
In my mind as I
Write this, but the
Temptation of staying to
Listen to your
Heart-wrenching melody just
One more time. . . I can't.

Mom,
I made our favorite sandwich.

Mom,
I love you.

Mom?
Goodbye.
I'm auditioning for a slam poetry contest at my high school, and I have to compose three original slam poems, so here's the first one, which takes up three pages in my notebook.
Shea Apr 1
I'm not a good person,
It's not too hard to see.
It's pouring from my sweatglands
And lingering in my sleep.

I'm not a good person,
It's pretty obvious to see.
Cause everthing you tell me,
I seem to believe.
Olivia Lake Mar 21
Shh
Shush
Shut up
Shut up!
Stop it!
Will you just
Listen
Why does everybody talk and nobody listen?
I know! I know...
You have the right
But it seems the only progress is made by the people who
Talk and talk and talk and talk
They rake in the votes and the likes
but they never once thought if it was just...
or right
"You're a socialist!" "**** are ruining this country!" "You want to be class president, not with that fat ***" -
DO YOU HEAR YOURSELVES
What is supposed to bring us together is tearing us apart
Differences need to be celebrated, not feared
When is the last time you complemented someone's hair?...
Or smiled at them in the hallway?...
But no
It's only about what you think, what you feel, what you want, what you say
What... you... say...
That's all you'll care about
Until you start to listen
Rue Mar 16
Anxiety comes and goes like the wind.
It arrives in waves like water in our oceans.
It’s a rush like adrenaline; it ceases my mind!
I hate how abrupt it can be!

Anxiety is not kind!
Anxiety has no emotions!
It makes my eyes go blind!
I hate how corrupt it can be!

Anxiety is a mental illness!
I take medicine for my lack of courage.
I sit at home in bed with a racing heart
in hopes that one day, I, will spread this message.
I hate how anxiety can be!
My first slam poem dedicated to my anxiety.
Welcome to the hatrix,
Where you’re only allowed to
Care about yourself.

Welcome to the hatrix,
Where everybody thinks that
Thinking is ****.

Welcome to the hatrix,
Where good men are discouraged
And good women are wasted.

Welcome to the hatrix,
Where the most endearing terms
Are meant to mean the opposite.

Welcome to the hatrix,
Where nobody talks
Unless it’s behind another’s back.

Welcome to the hatrix,
Where everybody thinks that
you’re a ****** in secret.

Welcome to the hatrix,
Where people want you dead
Because you breathe
And have life.

Welcome to the hatrix,
Where cooperation is
Blind compliance in disguise.

Welcome to the hatrix,
Where the only thing
That motivates people
Is not being uncomfortable.


Welcome, human, to the hatrix.
Eat all the video evidence
Before we find you
And **** you.
Next page