Disgrace – Poetry Reading by Jasmine Fredericks. Performed by Becky Shrimpton

Watch the Poetry Reading DISGRACE:

Performed by Becky Shrimpton

Get to know poet Jasmine Fredericks:

1) What is the theme of your poem?

Passivity, War and Destruction.

2) How would you like people to respond when they read or watch your poetry reading?

To feel that they can do more than just watch television and be passive to the world around them.

3) How long have you been writing poetry?

For about three years

4) Do you have a favorite poet?

Robert Frost

5) What influenced you to submit to WILDsound and have your poetry performed by a professional actor?

I’ve had a good response from my poem and want to share it with others, getting it performed by a professional actor would make it more accessible for people.

6) Do you write other works? scripts? Short Stories? Etc..?

I’ve written short stories in the past but find poetry easy as it help me to communicate my thoughts and ideas better.

7) What is your passion in life?

Writing, performing, exploring life.
Trying to understand people.

THE GOSSIPING TREE, Poetry by Darren Finlinson

Genre: Family, Rhyme

Taken from Tales Of Hickety Plop. Children’s rhyme written by B.B. Sommers (twitter @TiddleyPump)

THE GOSSIPING TREE
by Darren Finlinson

Right in the centre of Hickety Plop,

Surrounded by every fantastical shop,

A magical wonder for all to see,

Is the one and only gossiping tree.

With bright gold leaves and age unknown,

The silver trunk in time has grown,

From all the tales it’s ever heard,

No matter how strange or even absurd.

With all the news it hears each day,

From all the folks who pass it’s way,

It often likes to talk and rant,

It surely is a nosey plant.

It likes to moan, it likes to tutt,

It never keeps it’s big mouth shut,

No matter who will walk it’s way,

It always has something to say.

When Mrs. Toodle once went by,

The tree had tried to catch her eye,

And laughed at her enormous hat,

And that her bottom was so fat.

Some people smiled at what it said,

Some people scolded it instead.

Now, maybe what it said was true,

But would you like it said to you?

No matter if it’s fake or real,

How does it make the others feel?

A bluebird flying overhead,

Was shocked at all the things it said,

it flew quite fast around the town,

And gathered every bird it found,

The giant flock began to fly,

Way up high into the sky,

And then upon the count of three,

Dropped lots of presents on the tree,

They hit the leaves with such a clatter,

None of them escaped the splatter,

So now the tree avoids such drama,

And understands that it was karma,

it learned that if you can’t be nice,

Be silent or at least think twice,

You never know who may pass by,

And it’s just lucky cows can’t fly.

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

Watch Poetry performance readings:

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Genius In Me, Poetry by Thato Pricey Ratlotlong

Genre: History, Identity

Genius In Me
by Thato Pricey Ratlotlong

I intend to reach the universe without losing my soul
I’m the Great Grandson of the Forefathers
Like those four sons who were left by their four fathers
I will claim & protect my birth right
From the East to the West, its dawn then comes night

The soil keeps the flash of those before us
We can’t all speak the so called universal language
Its jewel that brightens up our Africa
Before the sun came to pass.
Trust in your native self, and write the next page

We are caged, by our thoughts
We are lost! We can’t see the Genius in Us
Their tombs are engraved the words that fought
Our weakness
The Pyramids sculptured that which is taught
Our inventions
Fallen Kings, still cry for their kingdoms
They never trusted the Genius in Us

Tremor shook, we stood
Unveiling the thoughts we never understood
Encrypt the codes of poverty
Decode the codes of poetry
Revising the education Africa taught
Regain the genius you lost
I Am the Great Grandson of our Forefathers,
Genes of their Nature is with Me,
I Am the fruit birthed by our Godly Mothers
I have their Genius In Me

– Thato Ratlotlong
Twitter: @Priceythato

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

Watch Poetry performance readings:

Watch Poetry made into Movies:

WORDS, Poetry by Dillen George

Their words cut.
Their words sting.
Their words hit hard,
And all day through my head I can hear them ring.
They bully me for who I am,

Genre: Rhyme, Bully, Society

Their words cut.
Their words sting.
Their words hit hard,
And all day through my head I can hear them ring.
They bully me for who I am,
They torment me for the things I can’t change;
I wish things would be different,
I pray that life will be rearranged.

At school,
The other kids know that I’m gay.
And they belittle me for it,
Day after day.
“Faggot” I hear as I walk through the halls.
“Queer” I see written on bathroom stalls.
“Homo” they shout as they shove me to the floor.
“Fairy” they scream as they slam me into locker doors.
In class notes are passed,
Notes slanderous to me;
The teachers do nothing,
They just pretend not to see.
On the bus I am tripped,
I am never saved a seat;
This is what I’ve endured,
For week after week.

Once I’m home,
Things really don’t change;
My family hasn’t been the same,
Since they’ve known I was gay.
It saddens me to say,
That it comes as no surprise,
When my own parents won’t even look me in the eyes.
My siblings treat me different,
Too young,
And brought up with too much ignorance to see,
That they cannot “catch gay” from me.

I wish I could show them,
I wish they would listen.
But their minds are made up,
The stigmas have them locked in a prison.
Being gay is part of who I am,
And it wasn’t a choice;
It’s as much a part of me,
As my face or my voice.

Now,
I’ve heard people say,
That things get better;
That people change,
And soon we’ll all live happily together.
Well,
If all that’s so true,
Then answer me this;
Why do my boyfriend and I get beaten,
Should in public we kiss?
Why does a government by the people,
Make me feel ashamed;
And take away my marriage rights,
When all I want to take is a last name?
And finally tell me,
Who are you to decide,
Whether or not I can sit in the hospital,
And hold my partner’s hand while he dies.

Don’t judge,
Don’t bully;
This is what we’ve all heard.
But actions,
They speak louder than words.
We’re told these things,
But they’re never enforced;
Maybe if they were,
My life wouldn’t feel so cursed;
Maybe I wouldn’t feel as though my tormentors were right,
Maybe I wouldn’t have to wait for day,
In a seemingly eternal night.
Yes,
Things could be done,
But seldom they are;
People often talk of extending a helping hand,
But they never go as far.

Oh well,
I’ve said about all I can say.
It’s not like anyone cares,
Or would listen anyways.
If you’re reading this now,
Know that one thing is right;
I’ve been beaten so much,
That I’ve lost the will to fight.
I’ve gone upstairs,
Locked the bathroom door;
I still hear hateful words,
Making my conscious sore.
I drew a warm water bath,
Took a deep breath and took out a knife;
Rather than take more torment,
I’ve taken my life.

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

Watch Poetry performance readings:

Watch Poetry made into Movies:

Easter Monday, Poetry by Mary E. Latela

I wore my new pink coat, silk, princess-style,

lined with satin and crinoline, to school.

Fifth grader, I pretended my brother,

who also walked, was a stranger,

Genre: Growing Pains

Easter Monday
by Mary E. Latela @LatelaMary

I wore my new pink coat, silk, princess-style,

lined with satin and crinoline, to school.

Fifth grader, I pretended my brother,

who also walked, was a stranger,

And he pretended not to know me either.
 
 

From the left, a mighty little neighbor boy

rushed out like a little rebellious skunk

and he pulled on my coat,

tore the crinoline, pulled on the hem, delicately stitched.

Kids gathered, some laughing, and I assumed they were mocking me.

Finally, the mother came out and shouted,

“Harold! Come in now! Don’t you bother that girl!”

He slumped away. My brother said nothing.

Just as I could feel my breath again, relieved that the assault was over,

I walked into school and my teacher saw me,

asked me what happened …. the only word I could utter was “boy.”

Nosy Peggy filled in the details.

Teacher folded the coat carefully, slid it into a paper bag for safekeeping,

until my mother could use her magic touch to repair the coat,

Stitch by stitch.

I never felt safe again.

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

Watch Poetry performance readings:

Watch Poetry made into Movies:

My Derision, Poetry by Kira Rice

My heart yearns for beauty yet I look in ruins,

my soul thirsts yet I search in barren lands,

Genre: fear, hurt, life, painful, personality, religion, inspirational and sad

My Derision
by Kira Rice

“My heart yearns for beauty yet I look in ruins,

my soul thirsts yet I search in barren lands,

my eyes long for truth yet I seek human hands,

my being hungers after fullness yet I worship emptiness.”

 

 

 

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

Watch Poetry performance readings:

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Wish You Were Here, Poetry by Rajat Agrawal

While he struggled to find lexis, for their beautiful world, or the absence of,

Her smile and her shine godlike, he was eternally infatuated for,

Her voice and her poise charming, he always longed for,

As he just stood there with rapt attention towards her radiance

Genre: Painful, Sadness
“Wish You Were Here”

Happy Birthday Sweetheart” he said as he looked at her face.

That same face, whose glowing radiance akin to the shine of a hundred suns.

The very face which he can relate to his endless joys and sorrows.

The face who made his heart go wild, in all sorts of visceral pleasures.

 

“I love you” he said as he looked deep into her eyes.

His eyes wet with tears of melancholy.

His hands trembled as he held the red roses which she was always fond of.

As he fought to hold back his tears.

 

While he struggled to find lexis, for their beautiful world, or the absence of,

Her smile and her shine godlike, he was eternally infatuated for,

Her voice and her poise charming, he always longed for,

As he just stood there with rapt attention towards her radiance.

 

“Papa how much you love mummy?” their six year old toddler asked

Her voice, which seemed to echo inside his head for few minutes,

“A lot” he just replied to his daughter,

As he just watched her face, seemingly beautiful as ever.

 

But now, “C’est la vie!” he said to himself, as tears escaped his eyes

“Why are you crying daddy?” chirped his concerned daughter,

“Nothing, my darling”, replied her father,

As he carried her from the portrait of his dead wife.

– Rajat Agrawal

 

 

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

Watch Poetry performance readings:

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Locking up the love, Poetry by Kaushik Roy

Genre:- Love

Locking up the love
by Kaushik Roy

You left a note stuck by the bedside
Explaining all those details
Of how things aren’t working out
Between you and me anymore
All the things you wrote
Left me wanting for more

It takes a man to win the war
That’s rages deep inside
Takes heart to look into one’s eyes
Looking for answers to questions

You were my path to nirvana
You are my stardust
So I’ll wait for you love
Until the end of time
Walk straight to edge of the world
And back into your warm embrace

All the memories we made
I carry them with me
I keep them locked inside my heart
In a box that I call hope

I wish I’d had some more time
One more chance to see that smile
Another phone call in the night
Slice of heaven over cups of tea

I won’t cry for your love
I know I have it all
Unlike dewdrops every morning
It won’t dry up in the sun
So when the night is to come
I’ll be shining in the moonshine
 

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

Watch Poetry performance readings:

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The Master, Poetry by Pete Stones

‘Come up upon the wind’
roared the Master to the sails,
‘hard-a-port, aye aye sir’
echoed down the rails

Genre: Fantasy, History

The Master
by Pete Stones

‘Come up upon the wind’
roared the Master to the sails,
‘hard-a-port, aye aye sir’
echoed down the rails

the prow in tumult groaned,
tacking wildly was her shape,
his lonesome figure smirked to see
the shallows of the Cape.

Gripping to the mainmast
while the ship pitched and yawed,
‘I’ll see thee soon my friends’,
the Master madly cawed.

Wraiths upon the weather deck,
tempests in his soul,
guilt sweeping off into the sea
to be buried in the shoals.

She opened up a seam,
but the water remained at bay
ghosts like oakum stayed the wrath
as the ship did naught but sway.

While his lips did quiver in solemn prayer
to his knees the Master fell,
‘Please release from me this earthly keel,
all city, sea, and dell’

Waves arose like the fingers of God,
and by an act of grace
the Master washed away,
a smile upon his face.

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

Watch Poetry performance readings:

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A Terrifying Night, Poetry by Aditya Agrawal

And as I just said that, a fresh cold terror gripped me.

I was not in the home, but inside my college dormitory

And if my terrors and horrors were not too enough,

I heard the dormitory door creak slowly open.

Genre: Fear

A Terrifying Night
by Aditya Agrawal

I was lying on the bed when the door creaked open.

In the middle of the night, who could be I thought.

As it opened wider, a blanket of horror engulfed me.

Saw a monster, in all its furious anger, rush towards me.

As I now started to react, it swiftly pinned me down.

Its fangs and claws raised, waiting to strike with a frown.

I woke up with a scream, realizing it was just a dream.

“What happened honey?” heard my mom’s voice ask me.

“Nothing, mom!” the words slipped out of my shaky lips.

And as I just said that, a fresh cold terror gripped me.

I was not in the home, but inside my college dormitory

And if my terrors and horrors were not too enough,

I heard the dormitory door creak slowly open.

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

Watch Poetry performance readings:

Watch Poetry made into Movies: