Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film.

Ballad for the Moon and Her Soldier, by Alanah Tuohey

There lived on a hill a man loved by the Moon,
Who tended black gardens beneath her cool eye,
His days full of fever and metal and war,
The moon brought him silence in the dark of July.

He raised up to her with bouquets of white flowers,
And she sent him secrets on spider-spun thread,
But flowers and secrets are worth more than silver,
When rumors of blessings by night’s tender spread.

The man sought to hide them, his garden and lover,
From silver-tongued bindings of his castle’s Lord,
But all men on that hill were bound by their station,
And his keeper did call him to pick up his sword.

Jasmine, Gardenia, and Datura blossom
And pale light kissed a hand destined for a tomb
“I’ll help you” she promised “My dear, remember,
I’ve given you knowledge to keep you from doom.”

The Knight said “I love you, I trust you, remember,”
“I’ll visit each night when your bright brother sleeps.”
So he wreathed his armor in Jasmine, Gardenia,
And Datura blossoms bring death where it weeps.

The castle’s lord sent him as sage more than fighter
But stole his treasured twilights to use in the war
The moon sent more secrets, whispered conversation
And kept his steps quiet through black fields of gore.

But her gifts were subtle and his eye so distant
He waited, they all knew, for when he might leave.
His comrades grew jealous, their loves slowly falling
And silver is worth less than bread in a siege.

Time wore on slowly and death in it’s chariot
Days full of starving, exhaustion and fever,
And the knight grew desperate to treat with the Moon.
He knelt at the dark and turned his face to her:

“Dear moon, I love you, please help me remember,
What knowledge you’ve granted that might save my life.”
The moon knelt as well and she murmured to him,
“The bouquets you grow me will lift you from strife.”

“How?” Pleaded the knight, “For I can not leave,
Let alone slip datura in so many glasses—
—And all the fields here are fallow with blood,
Our young black gardens will fall to those masses.”

“Beloved, my gardener, I love you, remember,
Who’s word keeps a sword in your palm through the day.
If you poison the cup of the one that binds you,
My light hand will wait there to take you away.”

She returned a gift he gave her long ago,
A crown of white flowers preserved by her power,
And bid him “My darling, I love you, good luck.”
He took it, and promised to meet in that tower.

The knight sent a letter to visit the Lord,
That he had been shown the greatest vision yet,
And the war would be won if he’d only listen,
And the Castle’s Lord obliged his soldier, his pet.

So then it came as dusk touched September,
The Gardner-Knight wandered the palisade walls.
He met with the castle lord in his quarters,
And the moon’s light followed his heels through the halls.

They spoke in good spirits of battles endings,
Forgiveness and futures for all who would follow,
The word of the Knight that was loved by the moon.

But he, of course, was lying.

The Knight slipped a flower from his wreath to the wine,
And drank up no further, but watched and waited,
For him to see that his own pawn had killed him,
And as his lungs closed he cried out, belated.

The Moon through the window beckoned her lover,
As death’s armor-clad footsteps encircled the stair,
Before they could enter he leapt to her arms,
But she was not living, the Moon’s hands only air.

At the base of that tower her sadness collected
Mixed with the blood of her lover for years.
And to this day there grows jasmine, gardenia,
And datura blossoms with the mourning Moon’s tears

LOVE Poem: BLIND ONE BEACH, by Ryan Burzynski

Floating through the whispers of the waves, I sit.
Though visionless, I embrace the shifting of the sand at my feet.
My skin turns hot from the sun’s warm kiss, its radiant touch is a feeling that is so real.

while i sit idle, the ocean sings to me
a peaceful, yet intimidating symphony of creatures let to be.
I listen to the seagulls shouting all around in the sky, I’m left to only imagine.
The salty breeze softens my skin, a gentle caress.

For in my mind, the colors bloom, and the ocean’s vastness consumes me like a monsoon.
And although I cannot see the sight, I sense its pleasure so pure and bright.

The cries of seabirds fill my ears as they soar and glide,
Blind on a beach, yet I still find my way,
in the beauty of the day, a place I wish to always stay.

SCI-FI/FANTASY Poem: Autumn Time, by Ben Bridges

In this breath, I find the whole
A world contained, a story told
Sunlight’s touch on autumn’s air
Golden dust and quiet care

I breathe it in, each sight and sound
This fleeting joy the earth has found
No rush ahead, no glance behind
Just here, just now, a quiet mind

Leaves drift down in whispered grace
Not future’s pull, nor past’s embrace
A single beat, a fleeting thrill
The world stands still, and I am filled

Make it clear what its about. Dont use A,B rhyme scheme

LOVE Poem: Slave to Love, by Angela Lee

Oh thunder road
the distance between then and now,
there and home
I light a candle and pray
for my old friends
for the sweet bird of desire
to sit next to my loneliness
How many years was I a slave?
looking for a tower
to try my wings
to fall nowhere
I wanted to be a slave to love
but I was a slave to revenge and worry
and so many things
that my childish fingers grasped
and would not let go
What did I worship instead?
What was the worth of all my dreams before now?
I do not remember at all

TRAGIC Poem: When the Tide Went Out, by Terry Joseph

April 1, 1946
Hilo, Hawaii

It was the natural thing to do,
send the whole class
to play on the beach.

Where else could you enjoy recess
on the shore but the Aloha state?
Reflective Popsicle green waves topped

with whipped cream, every child’s fantasy.
Even the tide a dream, drawing itself
out like a final breath,

span of warm, tan sand reaching halfway
across the world. Teacher smiled,
permed hair breeze-dancing.

How pleased she was for noticing
how the expansive shoreline beckoned
that morning. Come, it whispered.

One glance out the window,
spontaneous alternative
from fenced playground.

Shouts. Beach balls. Tag. Globs
of wet sand lobbed to make the girls squeal,
laughter so much brighter on the beach.

Joy reached the heavens. Bare toes and
tiny arches etched delicate motif
of life, Zen of impermanence

that was supposed to erase
their footprints, not scoop them up
and swallow them.

The cries
of careening gulls were all that
remained.

DRAMAITIC Monologue: DROWNING, by D.T. Dubs

Drowning slowly, absent from any from Sun-kiss
Locked in the abyss
Hope as equally absent as l
No energy left to fight
Is that wrong? What is right?
Knowing that death will set me free
Love is what grounds me
Dreams are no longer in sight
Love is all that holds me tight
Death is not losing
because life is not a fight
It is not confusing
Relayed empathy will transcend life to new heights
By: DT Dubs
!PANIC!
The pain has ripened
My chest has fully tightened
Please, god, be done soon

By: DT Dubs

LOVE Poem: Sea Swept, by Jenice Yoon

I met her
By the waves

Her dark hair flowed like seaweed in the tides
Her eyes reflected sunlight, glittering like the pearls
And her lips, a light shade of pink, a coral reef
Her smile was the sun, giving life to all

If she was the fish, swimming in the deep
I was a fisherman, throwing all my bait to catch her
If she was the jewel, resting on sand
I was a pirate, searching the entire ocean to find her

Then, we parted
Under the waves

Her hair tangling and blinding our sight
Eyes no longer full of light
Her lips going pale as a coral bleaching
While her smile tried to reach me, one last time
We sunk to the bottom
Like a treasure box
To never be seen again

POLITICAL Poem: “Beneath Azure Pankong’s Embrace”, by Abhijay A

In Pankong’s cradle, where waters gleam with azure grace,
White sands meet the solemn peaks, a sanctuary for the dreamer’s
embrace.
Nagami, the city of sun, murmurs in lilac hues,
Shalimar graces the scene, a tranquil muse that soothes.

The valley, a canvas adorned with nature’s sublime art,
Ephemeral lives of birds, yearning for celestial depart.
Shattered wings, denied the dance in freedom’s boundless air,
Silent cries echo, an anthem of longing and despair.

Harbingers hushed, forecasting fates yet to unfold,
Harmukh witnesses love, a narrative of stories bold.
Apple trees tenderly embrace, a shepherd’s pastoral grace,
Playing a flute in the symphony of the Kashmiri space.

Petrichor lingers, the scent of rain a poignant theme,
Solitude and beauty, the valley’s melancholic refrain.
A homecoming to joy, amidst nature’s profound felicity,
In tranquil retreat, serenity finds eternal affinity.

Dreams here whisper of tranquility’s tender grace,
Kashmir, my love, where hope finds its sacred place.
Through sleepless nights, lullabies unfold,
Echoing with guns and bullets, tales left untold.

Awakening to scenes of political strife,
Children dream amid the turbulence of life.
Cries for peace resonate in the moonlit streams,
Mothers seek melodies, amidst shattered dreams.

The delicacy of my valley, a timeless tether,
Binding us in shadows, enduring the political weather.
Kashmir, my love, a poignant political song,
Enduring, resilient, where struggles and strength belong.