Author: poetryfest

A tiny human wanders around
In hopes of finding a place quiet and sound,
To read anecdotes of the Mother ‘Knowledge’
Of her travels around the world.
A fortress of words she builds around her.
She lays in the comfort and warmth of the Mother,
To console her weeping soul.
The Mother cradles her child to sleep,
Singing her ballads of her undaunting odysseys,
How she travelled the oceans and the seas,
How she flew alongside the butterflies and the bees,
Reassuring the sleeping child
That she’d always be protected,
That she’d grow to be as fiery as the fire red,
Blazing with wisdom and love she’d shower her with
From the lessons learnt from every chapter of her life.
And here is the Mother making an unbreakable promise,
To forever be by her child’s side,
A promise of an eternal embrace of tranquility and bliss.

– Clare Francisca Pinto

The well of tears once deeply kept
soars when he releases your hand.

We face each trial step by step.
We learn each scene line by line.

How many thousands of his lines of poetry
(no, even more) lie in your deep well of memory,

lining each thought with guiding light,
(or reminding you of misguided dark).

Each recalls the father to the son,
each calls forth the memory of the man –

not only songs of love and perfect rhymes,
but tales and puns and yes, even rage.

Taken from his steps by step, learned line by line,
each trace a lesson to leave his lineage taut.

These, all these lines now keep
your world from flying into the night.

Performed by Val Cole

POEM:

For my Granny, Charlotte (1932-2021)

A clear cup half-filled with water stood
on the table, glistening with anticipation.

Outside, light blue and purple bloomed from stems.
Charlotte’s careful eyes zoned in on the bush across
the street and waited for the right time to strike.
Early April breeze carried the lilac sweetness

through the town. She analyzed their cloy
smell, toes dug into her property line.
The bush clogged her eyes with nostalgia:
this one was smaller than the ones she had years before, that grew

as tall as her house. Those were poisoned by the Patuxent
River runoff, but these had an even stronger will than she did.
The creaky picnic table housed her tools—dirt caked
scissors and a bottle of Cherry Coke.

Veins collapsed with a snip; the wood had started to die,
but the flowers grew more vibrant against her transparent hands,
and rattled, anxious to find a new home.
“Granny, what are you doing?” A curious child called out.

“Taking your Lilacs!” She skirted back onto her property,
a caffeine skip in her step.

Performed by Val Cole

POEM:

How did I get here
In a place so barren
Barefoot, standing in coals
Wandering, while flesh burns
And denying it hurts
Dark love molded me unrecognizable
Clinging to the very thing that ails me
This relationship that wafts of rot
Molded at the core
How can it be
Turning from self in pain
Heart’s capacity to withstand the unbearable
And stay, still, stuck
A dead tree whose roots sink deep
Down, down into the abyss
To hell took a journey
Heat rising, like time ticking
I couldn’t feel the sting
Edges crisping slowly
Until I’m engulfed in flames
Red hot with anguish
I called it by another name
Not amour, or grit, or strength
All what’s soft withered away
Until the squeals halt to silence
And the last crackle pops
The final fleeting song
So just the shell is left
Shadow of a woman
Soot of grey and black
The ashes of hopes and dreams
Fall to my feet infront of me

Performed by Val Cole

POEM:

Well, well, well, now whatever did I just see,
Chuggin’ along out on old Route Thirty-three?
A Panda Bear in a Honda – could it be?
And he was pushing a big, old, blue RV.

His paws on the steering wheel seemed out of place,
As did the fuzzy smile on his fuzzy face,
Beneath his Santa hat with a holly sprig,
Puttin’ along, pushing that RV so big.

I’d passed country mailboxes with wreaths bedecked,
That’s the seasonal joy I’d come to expect;
Not a Panda, with a red bow ’round his neck,
Helping a fellow traveler on his trek.

When I passed him by, I knew then what I saw;
A rolling prank by a gray-haired grand-pa-pa.
That Panda’s car wasn’t pushing, no, no, no!
His Honda was just a vehicle in tow.