Author: poetryfest

Momma had ten children
She sent them out to play
At the end of what had been
A long and rainy day

Looking out the window
The sky looked kind of ruddy
So, she called out the door
“Stay dry, and don’t get muddy”

As soon as they got out the door
They ran across the street
But with every step they took
More mud got on their feet

They said, Momma’s going to be so mad
I think that we’re in trouble”
And that is when they spoted it…
A great big muddy puddle

They looked at each other
Then they began to run
To jump in muddy puddles
Seemed like such-great-fun!

All ten reached the puddles
All ten jumped right in
And then one fell down
And landed on his chin

And now they numbered nine
All having a great �me
Jumping up and down
Turning round and round

And then another fell
And was covered up in mud
And she knew when she got home
She would end up in the tub

Then all the rest of them
One-by-one, fell down
Landing in the mud
Their clothes all turning brown

And although they were afraid
Of what their momma would say
They knew they had to go home
And face her anyway

When they finally did get home
And knocked on the door
Momma looked out the window
And couldn’t believe what she saw

All ten of her children
Filthy as can be
Standing in the yard
Where all the neighbors could see

So Momma let them in
One at a time
While she tried to scrub off
All the dirt and all the grime

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson”
They heard their mama say
Now you can go back outside
But-find-somewhere-else-to-play!

The body buzzes electric,
pulse of life, beating of heart,
rush of blood, rhythm of breath,
All intermingled, a symphony apart
Celebrate the self, the soul, the spirit,
The endless possibilities,
of all we can be,
The dynamism of diversity,
the power of difference,
A grand tapestry, an entanglement of you and me.
I am the dirt beneath my feet,
The sun that blinds my eyes, the wind ruining my hair,
I am the earth and sky, the mountains, worms, and fleas,
All that is, and all that can be,
I am.
I see the universe in all its glory,
In every weary face, every smile,
In every tear, in every story,
I find my own, and I’m beguiled
I am
a part of all that is,
A thread in the fabric of life,
Connected to every thing,
In a world of wonder, a world of strife. I celebrate this gift of being
And all the chaos it entails,
we are one,
and we are many,
And in all our ugliness,
beauty prevails.

I smoke a cigarette
there is smoke between my lips
And in some way
my mouth
create your image.
My mind tries to embrace
the most beautiful memory of you
so that it is not lost over time,
suddenly,
It occurs to me to do a caressing dance
and I use colors to paint columns of smoke.
with them,
I draw your eyes, your face, your lips.
what I wish
in a thousand ways to kiss;
It may seem ridiculous
but how to convince with reasons
to a desperate heart
Around me it gains strength
the smoke with the song of the wind
and I smile like a child
that wants to surprise you
giving tenderness
to all your dreams.

I have always liked
the rain with its special aroma
and that way of breaking
and change plans:
wet bodies, clothes, streets, glass
The rain is the cry of God.
and every tear that falls
makes it bloom
the earth.
We can’t caress her
and if we try to hold back a drop
this one slips through the fingers
rain can bring joy, sadness
now that it rains
I want to have a drop in my hands
and hold her tight
thinking of you
and in that miracle we call
love
My dreams are like rain
and I enjoy the moment
like a hug of life
when the rain falls
I feel
that you come to me
looking for a kiss.

If you are going to talk about love,
count on my absence,
she still breaks my soul,
so my absence is a fact.
Talking about her would kill me multiple times
and only one life has been taken away from me.
On the other hand,
there is no word that describes love in its true essence.
If you are going to talk about love:
Count on my absence.

Come, come love
let’s celebrate the party
of kisses,
I promise you that I will put everything
the strength of my heart
in the effort
mixed with the soul
and the essence of my blood
I promise
I’m not going to breathe even a little bit like that.
I will simply give you
all life on my lips
come here love
let’s celebrate the kissing party
where the caresses dance
with the feelings
and the music is accompanied by sighs and illusions
and you feel how the soul beats
at that moment
come, come love
It’s a magical invitation
You will feel like a kiss turns into fire.
and your body will tremble with this hurricane of desires
come, come love
it’s going to start
kissing party.

Let me talk
I wish to talk,
I must tell you woman
that you,
You are all that I want
or what is better,
It’s what I always imagined.
That love that catches
and from which you deny wanting to escape
much less let it go.
Wake up next to you
or that you be
the last thing my eyes see before sleeping
It is the most precious gift
that can give me life,
walk together
hand to hand
on the world map
and greet the roses, the birds, the air,
the field, the sea
It is a divine gift.
And at the end of the road
on the journey
towards eternity
leave with your image
in my eyes.
Permission
let me talk.

Narration by Val Cole

The Pillow: by Judi Beecher

I close my eyes to sleep
and hold you tight.

My body wraps around yours
as you gently stroke my hair.

Your gaze ignites a fire
deep within my soul.

A knowingness overcomes me,
I soar through the air
with newly grown wings.
Unstoppable happiness
overwhelms me with joy.

I waited for so long
knowing you were on your way.
Missing you though I knew not your name

All the thunder and lightening on earth
couldn’t replace one minute in time with you.

And finally in front of me you lay,
defenseless, with arms open wide,
my match, my mate, my other half.

Like a cashmere glove our bodies connect
sensually enveloping the fingers that enter inside.

Mouthing the words I love you,
as my body explodes in rhythm.
Soulmates through time,
lovers forever.
Knowing that you are the one
that I’ve always known.

I reach for you,
the bed is warm..
but the pillow is empty.
Alone but grateful
And a heart
that will never be the same.

Narration by Val Cole

READING A MAP, by Joanne Leva

Fall River. Smith Mills. New Bedford. Freetown.
A slow drive into charcoal blue. Silver
Beach. Ethereal Grey Gables. Frozen
Creek. Flying Horses Carousel. The wind

was whipping along the coast and you were
West Chop bent at the hip. Your arms cradled
dozens of Conque shells. And I was East Chop.
My arms full of shells, too. We were a mile

apart but still so connected. Looking
back, I think that sea air whipping and shells
falling from our arms were a kind of map.
A way of wandering we understood.

Heaven Heights. Pie-in-the-Sky Bakery

Narration by Val Cole

FLIGHT OF THE HEART, by Murray Blanchard

A gust of wind sets a lofty leaf,
black foreboding sky lends me to
grief.
Rivers collide, forceful oceans
swell, my thirsting lips, his to
quell.
Weary watered eyes break the spirit
free, reborn soul within allows me
to see.
Raindrops phrase my flight so
sweet, young words in my heart,
rhyme in beat.
As on a ledge, I yearn to fly, to
the dawn’s fresh dew, where he does
lie.
As I lay my head upon his chest, my
tiresome path, does come to rest.