Dolls lined up in neat rows of ten,
each equally afraid of lies, pain and disappointment
Drawn with aching smiles and soulless eyes:
cages are imprinted with redundant words to spark interest
Genre: Life, Society
Plastic Limitations
by Maka Nyingwa
Dolls lined up in neat rows of ten,
each equally afraid of lies, pain and disappointment
Drawn with aching smiles and soulless eyes:
cages are imprinted with redundant words to spark interest
A new era of egocentrically selfless dolls pollute the aisle
while the rest are left to decay into the dust they rose from
And as damaged beauty is glorified,
hearts are lost to the physical eye:
Money, magnified, manic
Absent, apathetic, abandoned
Grated, generic, glorified
Empty, effortless, edited
Damaged:
the end of each relationship is the beginning of every insecurity…
Damaged.
Also, Free logline submissions. The Writing Festival network averages over 95,000 unique visitors a day.
Great way to get your story out: http://www.wildsound.ca/logline.html
Deadlines to Submit your Screenplay, Novel, Story, or Poem to the festival: http://www.wildsound.ca
Nobody promised you a manual on how to face the burden of heartbreak and loneliness.
This life doesn’t equip you with the first aid kit to pull together and repair your soul after you face the sad reality that you have to save yourself from every hell you go through.
Genre: Addiction, Life, Society
FILLED GLASSES & LIT CIGARETTES
by Noemi Moncayo
Nobody ever said it was easy.
Nobody promised you a manual on how to face the burden of heartbreak and loneliness.
This life doesn’t equip you with the first aid kit to pull together and repair your soul after you face the sad reality that you have to save yourself from every hell you go through.
Your lungs were not made to inhale the toxic smoke you use to numb your mind. You liver isn’t meant to handle the alcohol intake on the nights you feel so empty there’s a hollow vibration in your cries.
Your heart was not prepared for the hands of lovers who are masters of broken promises and had the audacity to drop it.
Your ears were not made to hear words that resonate in the back of your mind and make you contemplate weather death is a train you want to ride on.
Your eyes, fragile glass crafted by God to see the beauty that this life has to offer, were not meant to see her in your bed with another.
Your lips were not meant to quiver when the first tear falls after you feel your heart sink to your knees. Love is not supposed to sound like an apology when it resonates off the walls of your mouth.
Kisses are not meant to burn your lips when you pretend you don’t know the truth.
You shouldn’t have to force yourself to pull her closer and you shouldn’t have to look away when you see yourself dead inside her eyes.
The truth is; bottles and packs can numb the pain, but not if she’s the one filling your glass and lighting your cigarettes.
She stands tall, proud.
If heaven was a voice
It would be hers.
If love was lost
It could be found in her eyes.
Her walk oozes confidence,
Her lips convey wisdom.
Genre: Feminism
THE OTHER
by Randa Shami
She stands tall, proud.
If heaven was a voice
It would be hers.
If love was lost
It could be found in her eyes.
Her walk oozes confidence,
Her lips convey wisdom.
Her words fall on deaf ears.
Her words are viewed as the punishment,
And her body the prize.
The breasts that come in different sizes.
Yours for the taken,
Her golden cherry,
Your final destination.
The only thing you listen to.
Naive .
Thinking she can use it as a weapon.
Proud that her heart did not beat for you,
But her legs opened gladly.
Naive.
You are the winner.
She lost everything.
But her walk only gains power.
It mirrors yours now.
An undeniable stance which shouts
‘I am the hierarchy’
‘I am the definition of double standards’
Her words are still wise.
But even her own ears have closed to the noises her lips make.
They utter hateful words behind her back.
Call her names,
Slut,
Dumb girl.
Then she runs to you.
You who walks the same walk.
You whose words are less wise.
You who made all the rules.
Let her say
‘I know what I want’
Let her dare become that brave.
Disregarding
Her words, actions
Only the materials draping
Over her temple will define her now.
And you will use this as an excuse to
Invade, destroy and conquer
What once was her temple.
Tears will fall from her eyes
And with every drop love is,
Lost, hated, forbade.
You place your hands under her chiselled chin and use her tears to wash away the,
Blame,
guilt.
Provoked?
Were you?
The body will die it is the soul that is the prize.
A woman she is
Women they are
One is nothing without the other.
Also, Free logline submissions. The Writing Festival network averages over 95,000 unique visitors a day.
Great way to get your story out: http://www.wildsound.ca/logline.html
Deadlines to Submit your Screenplay, Novel, Story, or Poem to the festival: http://www.wildsound.ca
As I stood and gazed at the nighttime sky,
A sputnik, a satellite, caught my eye.
It travelled in a slow and graceful arc;
A small and bright point of light in the dark.
Spellbound and transfixed I watched it with awe
And marvelled at the wondrous sight I saw.
It epitomized man’s inventive flair,
Traversing the sky, so high in the air.
Then, as eastward, through the heavens it flew,
The roof of my house obscured it from view.
When, at last, it was hidden from my sight,
Nothing else broke the stillness of the night.
As the beauty of the sky wove its spell,
Into a dreamlike reverie I fell.
I basked in the radiance of each star,
The twinkling light from so very far.
I turned to look where the satellite passed, Where, high over my…
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