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.

Read Poem: RICH MIND, by Ann Yu Huang

Strokes of dark suit, brisk air show,
Whose banal awakenings fire up the sky—
Holy Grail bowed by Jupiter’s anti-gravity,
Atonements seek the township of unity.
You arrive at odds in unison, falling here
For better redemption; becoming beguilingly,
You wear your magician’s hat, or caution
By it like wingless angels in disguise.

Collectively, like unhinged gods, flattered,
Continuous and contiguous you live; status quo
You are the visage of the walls for an autocracy
Uprooted; at work constant with uniformity,
Not easy not hard, like memes without stories,
Peoplehood
Without footprints for the sake of humanity?

Read Poem: KING SIZE BED, by Marli Merker Moreira

The mattress is fit.
It feels inviting:
A hug,
Kiss,
Unzip of a ruse.

Silent,
Stiff,
Lonesome,
Deaf and mute,
It is a bed for dreams.
–her stuff is melancholy.

Here they are
On the bed she once bought :
He holds papers,
Then takes a sleeping aid.
The man vanishes
Into the last frontier,
At five centimeters
from drowning into the carpet.

She sees life
Move around the dark
bedroom drapes.
Where is the guy
Who vowed to love her?

It is past and gone.
The bed she bought years before

Oh, a king-size bed never to move.
Never to feel a hug.
Never to breathe love.
He keeps distant:
Work and sleep.
Rerun stock game
He is the only one to play.

She is now free
Of any green spectacles.

The idol
Selfishness builds
Becomes a rude statue of salt.
Sent naïf tears
To her old merry-go-round movies,
Beyond the sullen drapes,
Around their bed, it was so cold.

She discards masquerade.
Tricked no more, she sets apart
Love from brine.

Now, she detects his contours.
Who wants his embrace?

She carries newborn ideas
For a life of song and care.
She rejects a secondhand turn.

Ready to shell out,
She blooms
And, Woman,
She shines again.

Read Poem: 70, by Jonathan Turner Smith

70 today
Happened so fast
Can’t get past
The wrinkles and lines
A few Signs
Of success,
Failures far more
Mistakes and regrets
And yet
A family I love
Friends I adore
Alone but not lonely
If only…
If only no regrets
that pull like quicksand
But I must stand
And believe I’m not done
What God has begun
I will continue to live
And give
Rather than take
(Which I do so well)
But let me excel
For the time I have left
To do my best as a man
As a brother
As an uncle and as a friend
Until the end
Today, tomorrow, or years from now
However much time God will allow
As my last breath I do release
Finally and irrevocably
Eternal peace.

Read Poem: ODE TO MY WIFE, by Mike Bevins

There was a man who had a wife
He thought she would be with him the rest of his life
They had been together so many years
Through good times and bad, through laughter and tears
It wasn’t always easy but as the years passed
They created a life together they thought would last
When one day an intruder made its presence appear
You’re not wanted…get out of here!
But it refused to leave and continued to spread
The man and wife were now filled with dread
There was hope for treatment but she wouldn’t be cured
Their bond was tested yet their faith endured
But things happened so quickly and so fast
The man soon realized this cannot last
As her condition worsened he grew sad
Taking solace in the memories of the life they once had
With each passing week she could do less and less
He tried holding it together but was a bit of a mess
And a decision was made while she lay in bed
Not to continue to treat her but comfort her instead
He thought of all that had happened before
As she closed her eyes which would open no more
And it came to be before too long
This angel named Angela was called home and gone

Read Poem: The depression follows me, by Alex Bucur

The depression follows me. But I try to be faster.
It keeps coming after me, trying to grab me with its claw suddenly.
Still, I try to be faster than it.
I’m starting seven more musical projects, another coping mechanism.

I keep a diary, I write some poems.
My thoughts are flying in a thousand directions.
I would say that now I am at my creative peak
But it’s just pain, it’s nothing like native.

The depression follows me. I’m still faster than it
I run down the street, towards the unknown, looking for the way
Looking for that quiet life before it appeared
I keep lying to myself that it’s just a passing phase.

The depression follows me. It doesn’t give a damn, it’s really a nuisance,
It approaches me, it lies to me that it comes with peaceful thoughts
Then it hits fully without any management
It leaves me stripped of my personality, without coherent thoughts.

The depression got me. It’s not just a passing phase
It is a condition, confirmed, cataloged as incurable
Maximum you can do, a dormant state,
But whence this without a coherent mind.

The depression follows me. Wow, it really is a reliable friend
From your life, it said that it’s not leaving, it is living a noble life
It only takes a few months and you get used to it
You guessed its intentions on the spot.

I managed to put it in a dormant state
I think now I have a different mind, may be coherent.
Apparently there are two of us now living in me
My personality, and IT, whenever returns for real.

Read Poem: THREE IN ONE, by Rodney Damon Collins

(First Verse)
Three in One, in essence, One makes three!
Body guided by thoughts from my mind and soul
Creativity and Reason from I am or should I say the one!
Morality guided by soul
Mind, will and emotions, I am three in one.
3 stands for perfection whether it’s past, present, and future
Birth, life, and death
Beginning, middle, and end, it all represents completion.
I am a divine creation with a god-given purpose
A purpose that can be seen in the way I live, the way I love, and the way I laugh
I am three in one

(Second Verse)
Body covered in a beautiful brown skin,
Kissed by the sun, the same complexion of the one and only son
it’s desired by all, it’s protection from winter, spring, summer and fall
My mind is exceptional
My thoughts can create an entire world
What I see I can make a reality
My soul is eternal
This body will decay and my mind could slip away, my soul will see past the 24 hours we have in
a day
I am a living miracle
My mere existence is a symbol of hope
Potential, vision, whatever I call it dope!

(Third Verse)!
I imagine me, living a life that’s truly free!
Free from judgment
Free from Shame
Free from guilt
I’m telling no one can blame! Me for living the way I do
God told me son, I’m proud of you!
Bold in every step I take
Time is fleeting with every day I wake
I will keep creating until I’m done!
The end for me is only the beginning!
life’s just starting since I am three in one!

Read Poem: THE FIFTH CHAMBER, by Richard Rossner

Four chambers has the human heart
That pumps life for decades on end
A mechanical muscle-machine that does its job
Unthinking, unblinking, just pumping
What spark flipped the switch to “on,” and finally “off”…
Who knows?

But there is a fifth chamber
An invisible chamber
That knows no x-ray
And often no thought or consciousness
A molten iceberg of passions
Fifteen-sixteenths below the surface

And even though life has worked out
In all its goodness and trials
And the course has finally steadied
From youthful impetuousness
The Fifth Chamber sneaks out
At the best of moments
(Which is the worst of moments)
To jerk the steady steering wheel of life
Ever so slightly
To shake up the driver
And demand an old attention

The fifth chamber is a hidden place
Scanning life, taking notes, making choices

In the tangled path of lovers
Some come and rest for a while

Then leave abruptly, or over time
But the love or passion that was once coal hot
Is stone cold dead, leaving no trace…
Just a name, or a face, or not even that
Maybe just a vague sense that something long ago occupied some space

And yet…
There are some
Very few
Maybe one
Maybe two
Who own a small corner of the fifth chamber

Maybe it’s merely a melancholy mental fiction
A catalog of qualities that those few had
But something…
Something is unmistakable
Unalterable
Immutable
Inviolate

Kindliness becomes epic
A sweetness that is almost painful to remember
The myopic view that only sees dopamine, crush-drenched moments
How the thought of those inner real estate holders
Yet triggers full body tenderness

Soft focus moments
In Maxfield Parrish hues
Of glowy magic illuminations
Surrendering to the colors
Of awakening daybreak
And hypnotic, peaceful dusk
Yet it always has the tinge of pain of something lost

Flutterings of the heart
May seem disloyal to another
But no one is free from their own Fifth Chamber

Just look a little closer
And everyone will stand
On that hangman’s gallows
With the same sweet melancholy pain and memory

Of an innocent time and place
That sweet soft spot
Can be ignited by a breeze
Or a sunset
A happy pain
Sheathed in that hidden bunker

A stealth cupid’s arrow
Once landed
Refuses to let a long ago wound heal
It is ever bruised and aching to the touch

If that territory is visited
Is it cheating?
Is it a phantom affair?
Is it – even with the name on that inner real estate deed –
Real?

Or is it all a slow-cooker fiction
A fantasy with hidden awareness
That it didn’t work then
Because it couldn’t work then
Or now
Or ever

Which means that name
That person
That phantom
Is an affair with Self
Self-inflicted fantasy
Self-inflicted desire
Self-inflicted longing
Self-inflicted pain

Why hunt for a Facebook post
Or more dangerous
A live momentary glance
In the hopes of locking down
An interpreted promising sign
That your name occupies a chunk
Of that invisible chamber
In the heart across the way

It’s folly
It’s cruelty
To Self
To a true life partner
To the Other who may still be alone

Why do this strange dance?
It’s just something to fill the time
Of so many years
Of so many heartbreaks
Of wanting ownership of something
In a borrowed life
From the force that starts the heart beating