Author: poetryfest

Performed by Hannah Ehman

Rise Up Young Mind, by Michael D. Rourke

Verse One
Polluted skies, the future is unclear
Vote for clean air, changing hearts are so near
The planet cries, see and listen for pain
Everyone care, a great change will remain

Chorus
Love human kind, open the door
Let’s come together, Rise Up Young Mind
Leave hates behind, make room for more
Let’s come together, Rise Up Young Mind

Verse Two
New ro-ta-tion, the power of gen Z
Watch and wonder, how we can all agree
Best in- ten-tion, not ignoring the truth
Rolling thunder, the new voices of youth

Bridge
Black brown yellow red white, set in motion
Ring of hands holding growing devotion
Keeping land green and blue seas and oceans
Together we curl all around the world

Chorus
Love human kind, open the door
Let’s come together, Rise Up Young Mind
Leave hates behind, make room for more
Let’s come together, Rise Up Young Mind

Verse Three
Learn from the past, we’re saving tomorrow
Plant hope and trees, and let the rivers flow
Change comes at last, keep reaching everyday
More people please, there’s no time to delay

Bridge
Black brown yellow red white, set in motion
Ring of hands holding the growing devotion
Keeping land green and blue seas and oceans
Together we curl all around the world

Chorus
Love human kind, open the door
Let’s come together, Rise Up Young Mind
Leave hates behind, make room for more
Let’s come together, Rise Up Young Mind

Performed by Hannah Ehman

FINDING THE LIGHT by TJ Star

Dimmed
For So long,
No one could see what is so special inside.
With a flick of a switch, the light came through and created a world of colour.
Shining bright and radiating like a rainbow.

Performed by Hannah Ehman

Her voice yells under water
atop a mountain no one can hear
Perpetual restless nights
There was a woman beneath the sphere.

She relies on her black leather boots,
A potted flower, every waking hour,
Stripped of her grounded roots

Black leather boots, what a sight,
her deserted eyes need sleep,
Black leather boots invite,
why, solitarily she weeps.

Rescue me, she whispers tenderly.

Black leather boots at night,
What an elegant disguise.
Black leather boots excite,
Only the lonely lives in her eyes.

She stopped shining,
her stars blinding

Love is fragile, life is fainting
She’s calling, she’s falling.

She sees him stride,
Dressed like her,
caressed like her,
in his black leather boots at night.

Black leather boots unite
on a bed of roses they sleep
Black leather boots tonight
Her weeping disappears.

Black leather boots ignite
holding back their fears
Black leather boots tonight,
Black leather boots premieres

A villanelle with alliteration

“He doesn’t look like a champion, barely.”
When you’re blind, and times seem darkest,
grimly, you see clearly; steer from fear, near me.
Take your best shot, a bandana blindfold, dimly.
A swing and a miss, fourfold.
“He doesn’t look like a champion, barely.”
Speak for yourself; heal ye, will he.
The most dangerous weapon; a focused mind.
Shouting obscenities loses meaning; hear he, believe me.
A river runs bombs on a rock in the river, standstill, fiercely.
Like the heart of a warrior amid liquid thrills.
“He doesn’t look like a champion, barely.”
The rock in the river, standstill, in theory.
Kingly, I’ll show you how it’s done; here be, grizzly.
Grimly, you see clearly; steer from fear, near me.
You’ll ‘come a champion, like ye.
You’ll be better, until he, year we.
“He looks like a champion,” feared he.
Grimly, you see clearly; steer from fear, near me.

A sonnet with assonance

Mysterious caws of crows at starlight,
A chorus of dawn’s robins sing in delight,
an alarm warning for their worm.
Fearless blue jays chirp atop cedar pine trees,
Red cardinals tweet heavenly spirits amid a breeze.
Waterfalls from a fountain before a thunderstorm.
Pink Poinsettias blossom the tea garden,
evergreen conifers planted and hardened.
A bolt of lightning flashes as white as a unicorn.
Whooshing bells, whistles, horns of a train,
shriek and cry to warn and inform:
a Skyfall of sprinkles, and hard rain.
Mourning doves of morning murmuring coos in a swarm.
Lilacs and daffodils bloom at Watergate.

Longing of a lover

At the twilight
Midst gushing of a breeze

I ponder till night
With flooding of unease

I think about my moon
That lights my nights

It felt like monsoon
Staring at the sights

–

Maybe we
Weren’t meant to be

The path i see
Sunsets at seas

Isn’t the one you see
Midnight and carefree

Regardless I plea
Meet me at the sea

At the twilight
Midst gushing of a breeze

But alive perhaps misunderstood?
Born as a Gorgon or a mortal with wings
Confusion reigns as to her creation
But, the consensus remains on
That her gaze is so strong and
Chilling to the bone
It pierces into you and
Turns you into stone
With venomous snakes
In place of her hair
She was dreaded, scorned
And feared by most
Considered a monster
Was she once perhaps
A beautiful maiden?
Tempting enough to lure men,
Was she the victim or a sinner?
Resulting in the curse
That changed her
And it took treachery to subdue her

Dear Robin
How are you? Is everything going ok?
Are using your jokes now? How is Jonathan Winters doing? We miss him too..I hope you’re ok now..you were a cultural
present
from a dark
place..
lots of laughs come from
there..
as it seems…you were
channeling craziness
that forge
laughter for us…

I used to be envious of the clouds and how happy they must be floating up there, a new adventure each day, empty canvases in the hands of the playful sun. But, like humans, they are always in a rush, running towards something. Momentarily, workers of the sky. When I look up to talk to them, they tell me they’re ending shifts, and back home, they go. But where is home? How is it possible to feel centered by something that isn’t, that only exists for a mere moment, never the same again, and into thin air, they selflessly disappear? They told me it’s because we’re so much alike, connected we feel. There is only one of each in this world. They paint skies while we paint lives. The only difference is that they’re up there, and we’re down here.

I’m sitting in this crowded room so many voices, so much communication.
But no one sees me. No one speaks to me. I never hear my name. What is it about me they don’t
See? I ask myself as I leave this crowded room with shame.

I’m standing at the playground watching his children at play. Their smiles, innocents and laughter bring so much joy to me, and I breathe in every moment when they ask me to stay.

I’m sitting in my father’s house the people here knows my name. They sing songs about me every Sunday and have communion in order to remember me or so they claim…

Because after the Sunday service is over and there is no more songs to sing. I wait for the church crowd at the play ground but they never come by that way.

THE INVISIBLE ME