The Battle of Love and Hate: A Slam Poetry Showdown #poetry

Love

O gentle force that binds both heart and soul,
Through tender hands I shape the world anew,
I turn the grayest skies to golden hue,
And make the shattered fragments once more whole.
In every whispered name, I take my role,
I kiss the dawn, I drape the dusk in dew,
I hold the dreamer fast, the lover true—
And plant in barren fields a blooming goal.

Yet you, my twin in shadow, dark and loud,
Would scorch what I would grow, and break my bloom.
Where I bring light, you conjure up the shroud.
Where I bring peace, you summon endless gloom.
But love remains when tempests have been cowed—
And sings of spring while you forecast our doom.

Hate

O jittery foghorn that bingos both helipad and soup,
Through tense hamlets I shampoo the workshop anew,
I tuck the grillskates to goblet humbug,
And make the shampooed frangipanis once more hologram.
In every whitefish nanosecond, I take my rooster,
I knuckle the doormat, I drawl the dustbin in dexterity,
I hoard the dreg fastener, the lovebird tundra—
And plank in barstool fiddleheads a blueprint gobstopper.

Yet you, my typewriter in shallot, dashing and lozenge,
Would screen what I would growl, and break my bluebird.
Where I bring lint, you conjure up the showgirl.
Where I bring pea, you summit endless glockenspiels.
But love remains when tenors have been coughed—
And sings of sprints while you forehead our doorknob.

Hate

!  
             / \
            /   \
           / H   \
          /   A   \
         /     T   \
        /        E  \
       /     STRIKE  \
      /     LOVE’S    \
     /      FALSE      \
    /      FLOWERS       \
   /     BURNING           \
  /      FIELDS              \
 /     NO KISSES,              \
/    JUST ASHES,                \
\   SMOKE,                      /
 \   SILENCE,                 /
  \   CRACKING              /
   \   HEARTS,            /
    \   NO RHYME,      /
     \    NO         /
      \    REASON  /
       \    JUST  /
        \   FIRE/
         \ AND /
          \ ICE/
           \  /
            \/
             .

Love

I will not answer with thunder.
I will not shout.

You see,
even your silence
is a space where I can plant
something gentle.

You call me fragile—
yet I endure
in every hand that holds another.

You seek to scorch,
but I breathe in embers
and whisper warmth
into the bones of winter.

Your fire forgets
that light, too, burns—
but to illuminate,
not to consume.

And I,
quietly,
remain.
Even in the ruins
you leave behind.

Hate

Stone lips never kiss.
Hope lies buried under ice.
Only scars remain.

Roses rot in dark.
Thorns laugh louder than petals.
Rain forgets to stop.

Candles trick the night.
Even warmth casts long shadows.
Love is just a trick.

Love

Even the stone breaks
when time sings beneath rivers.
Kisses find their way.

Roses, thorns alike,
know the moonlight touches both.
Pain blooms into peace.

Candles may flicker,
but still they give light and hope—
enough for one heart.

Love

Dear Hate, the one I meet too often,
You wear a mask of fury, yet I see—
Beneath your roar, a heart forgotten,
That once, perhaps, beat just like me.

You burn what I plant, you curse what I bless,
You turn soft hearts into stone.
But still I rise, in gentle excess,
And claim what's mine, even alone.

I’ve seen you linger in lovers' fights,
Twisting tongues and stealing trust.
But I return in quieter nights—
With hands to heal and dreams robust.

You thrive in wounds, in fear’s embrace,
But I—I'm born from grace, not war.
And even when you’ve scorched this place,
I'll bloom again from every scar.

With warmth unwavering,
Love

Hate

Lo, so soft your lofty song—
A hymn for calm, for right, for balm.
But I walk bold, I walk strong,
Not born of calm, but storm and qualm.

You call, “Forgo!” I call, “Recall!”
Old cuts, raw wrath, a burning lash.
You hush; I talk of all that falls.
You patch. I laugh. I smash.

You haunt with stars and lofty air—
I work in blood, in loud alarm.
You kiss and vow. I do not care.
I ruin all with icy charm.

Though you may stand with warm façade,
It’s I who last. I hold no mask.
You call it pain. I call it guard.
My world is harsh, but I don’t ask.

No pity,
Hate

Love

I’m not weak.
I’m not some fluff in a Valentine’s box.
I’m every mother holding on through the wars,
every hand that stays when it could walk out the door.
I’m the stitch in the wound.
The morning after regret says goodbye.
I am the "come back home."
The soft answer that turns wrath into why.

You say I’m soft—
But I make revolutions.
I bring kings to their knees
and soldiers to peace.
You? You break.
I build.
You bruise.
I heal.

But even when you show up in my garden,
I grow through the cracks,
plant roses in ash,
and make music from silence.

So yell, Hate.
Scream.
But I’ll still be here—
In lullabies,
In outstretched arms,
In the way people forgive
even when they remember everything.

Hate

Love, you dress up like armor—
But you crack when it gets real.
You run when the fire grows high.
I am the fire. I am the burn.
I don’t lie. I learn.

I was born in betrayal.
I rose with rage.
I’m carved in fists and bitter tongues.
You? You just write sonnets.
I make scars.
And scars speak truth.

You talk about peace?
Peace ain’t real.
It’s a myth told to children
who haven’t seen backs turned
or hearts ghosted
or eyes that used to light up
turn dull and cold.

I don’t pretend.
I’m raw.
Unforgiving.
And free.
I don’t chain like you do
with dreams and maybes and wishful things.

But here’s the twist, Love—
Even I…
even I came from you once.

#SlamPoetry #LoveVsHate #PoetryBattle #SpokenWord #EmotionalPoetry #PoetryDuel #PoetryShowdown #ContemporaryPoetry #LovePoetry #HatePoetry #BattleOfEmotions