poetryfest

Children’s Poem : THE RACE OF LIFE, by Orlando Cervantes

Life is but a journey
a journey is but a race.
A race does not determine
the color of your face.
In the Universal lot of life,
you will pick the mode that
Best suits your race.
The mode you choose
is the most perfect one in its place.
Some races will be far;
some races will be short.
Some cars will go fast;
some cars will go slow.
Some cars will be big and loud
like volcanos, vroom vroom.
Some cars will be long and low
like the sea, swish swish.
Some cars will have special needs;
some cars will do special deeds.
Some cars will be red, brown, white, black and blue
pink and yellow and purple too.
No matter what color you choose
Mother Earth will undoubtedly love you.

In The Race of Life, we will learn to sing our ABC’s
sing along with me: abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz
now we learned our ABC’s wont you sing them again with me?
Some learn them fast; some will learn them slow.
Some will sing them loud; some will sing them low.
In The Race of Life, we will learn to count
Car one, car two, car three…
No matter how many cars you can count
be sure to always count on me.
Some cars will be shaped like triangles.
Some cars will be shaped like rectangles.
Some cars will be shaped like hex a…GONE
try to catch him if you can!

In The Race of Life, you will choose the best way to win your race.
Be it very fast or very slow, or reach your goal line in a completely different mode.
“Hey looking fly Maxi”
What matters is that you keep your little engine on,
hands on your steering wheel, lots of fuel in your tank
and eyes on the road. Get ready, get set…go!
The Race of Life is not about how many cars you can beat,
but about overcoming Life’s unexpected defeats.
If you decide to drive very fast, slow down from time to time,
smell the flowers on road, cruise by the lakes, the valleys and the shores.
Don’t forget to laugh and love out loud as you chill on cruise control.
The Stars, the Sun the Moon and the Sky want you to know,
that no matter the road block, you continue to gO Go GO.
Buckle up and enjoy the ride.

My family doesn’t make photo albums anymore, by D’mani Thomas

My family doesn’t make photo albums anymore. Just dirty carpets, prayers and missing posters in every unsaved number. Just recipes of triumph in scar tissue, diabetes medicine splayed out next to a tower of peppermint candies. Like god is praying on the weakest of us with an alzheimered memory/ forgotten remorse/ what does not kill us makes us stronger, so thinning blood and darwin’s theory must be distant cousins.

Speaking of distance. I have not seen some people since the news coverage turned kardashian. Hurricane Katrina and my family are the same in that some government condoned a violence, and no one’s heard from them since. Tangent: believe all of this to be true. Last I heard, the boy that taught me to pop fireworks in the fragile of my palms, was living in a football stadium. Maybe? Maybe someone told me otherwise once .Maybe i’m choosing what to question mark. Maybe i’ll ask what happened to him when my grandmother wakes up.

I am a water baby. Salt water and some ligaments in the shape of bloat fish for stomach, minnow for rare organs, octopus tendrils for appendages i might scab and grow back. I know

What it means to swim in packs and try not to die. Survivor of two oceans trying to kill me. One atlantic /One I call a body . The killing joke

My kin is my kin, is your kin, heard that’s her kin too.

Fictiv in blood, but we can see it everywhere.

So when I found out Janis Joplin once said, “being black for a while, will make [you] a better white.”

I thought.

It’s just so easy to be Black these days ya know’

Rachel and Danielle paved the way for them. Like it’s in their DNA now:

Fake Bantu notted Oakland tongue double helixes. weaves into over priced top ramen diet.

If you are what you eat, then to consume a body means you too are NWA, section 80, hurricane katrinas red line, the subject of Old Kanye’s “George Bush doesn’t give a fuck about black ppl speech”

In front of me,

Some silhouette watches the slave trade happen

And somewhere, a white girl says she can’t be racist, says she’s only 17 , but 1/8th Ida. B.

Says – she loves the NFL and streetball and if she could she would let pornhub’s entire BBC category start a daycare in her stomach

I laugh

Tell her I think she has my great grandmother’s mouth in her teeth

I say,

My country loved me blue

My country took my dust soaked skeleton and put me in a thrift shop my probable children can’t afford.

My country loved me once and never texted me back.

Wild imagination, by Ezzy Callender-Braithwaite

My frontal lobe crafts a path to find an apposite residence
for the fields of lavender provoked my limbic system kindling fine motor skills to
zoom into high gear swerving over Mount Everest’s most southern hemisphere,
Plummeting at warp speeds to crash perhaps into the rapid waterfalls,
But there is a tributary in Egypt’s river that’s swelling to the overflow,
Triggering the cortex to hover in excitement, like frantic butterflies fluttering in
unison,
Distressing the frontal lobe, how it throbs faster than the heart’s rhythm,
An impulse one too much! Darkness creeps quickly, dwarfing the thinking quotient
shutting down the speed of light,
Reverse!

River, mountain, lavender, butterflies, field,
The stroke of beauty vanishes, taken away, compromised, gone!
But the shell still exists, the light is on, that means someone is home! Knock Knock!
Any one home?

Do you understand the words coming out of my mouth?
Can you follow my fingers from left to right, from right to left?
Smile for me, I see the droop on your face,
Let me show you an unframed picture, my daughter once wanted to visit this place.
I see by the sparkle in your eyes you recognize the lavender fields! Yes?
Take it easy now, be encouraged I will stay with you as you get back to where you
need to be,
We will need two special luggage, one for our clothes, the other for miscellaneous
tools and we are off!

Bring a blanket to keep you warm from the cold Himalayan nights
A waterproof suit for to keep dry when we near the waterfalls.
A measuring tape to record the length of Egypt’s river,
A net, to harvest the frenzied butterflies
Music to calm the palpitating heart and remember a dagger to cut loose this wild
imagination of yours.

Rise, by Larissa Xavier

Rise every day,

day after day,

once and for all.

Rise like the sun

from the dusk to dawn.

Rise like the ocean waves

moving up and down.

Rise like the trees,

which from seeds they arise.

Rise and shine.

And still,

like the air,

to the sky,

rise.

Rise from the ashes,

Rise from the horizon,

‘Cuz

Invariably you gotta rise.

Rise to the top

until there’s no other way

unless

to rise.

Rise and fall

all the time.

‘Cuz

at the end of the day,

we are all

risers,

early or late.

So rise up!

—
Larissa Xavier
http://www.larissaxlima.com

The 100 Greatest Disney Characters (40-31) — ScreenAge Wasteland

Los Angeles feedback film festival

Due to their overwhelmingly large catalog of properties, ranking the best of Disney is a… The post The 100 Greatest Disney Characters (40-31) appeared first on ScreenAge Wasteland.

via The 100 Greatest Disney Characters (40-31) — ScreenAge Wasteland

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Am I dreaming, by JiR

POETRY FESTIVAL. Submit to site for FREE. Submit for actor performance. Submit poem to be made into film.

Look,
Here she comes.
I look at her and ask myself,
“Am I dreaming”
It feels that way,
Sometimes…

I wonder if she feels it too.
I think she does.
What we have cant fade,
I tell myself.
She tells me that I feel like
home to her.
I smile,
and ask myself again,
“Am I dreaming”

She tells me she loves me,
She tells me she cares.
She calls me her flame.
And that she isn’t going anywhere.
I ask myself,
“Am I dreaming”
…

Its been two weeks since I last saw her.
Its been two weeks since I heard her say;
“Lets just be friends”
Look,
Where did she go?
She left,
and took my heart with her.
She can keep it.
Ill just sit here.
With this hole in my chest.
At least that doesn’t fade.
Ill just sit here,
And try to forget…
And I…

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Corona Chronicles: Arianna Huffington Raises Money for First Responders, Stars Use TV and Movies as Escapism and Other Personal Stories — Variety

Festival Reviews

Another week with the coronavirus brings the death toll in the United States to more than 50,000 people. It’s also another week where millions of people continue to exercise home-schooling and working from home while first responders and healthcare workers put their lives at risk. 13 more words

via Corona Chronicles: Arianna Huffington Raises Money for First Responders, Stars Use TV and Movies as Escapism and Other Personal Stories — Variety

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Am I dreaming, by JiR

Look,
Here she comes.
I look at her and ask myself,
“Am I dreaming”
It feels that way,
Sometimes…

I wonder if she feels it too.
I think she does.
What we have cant fade,
I tell myself.
She tells me that I feel like
home to her.
I smile,
and ask myself again,
“Am I dreaming”

She tells me she loves me,
She tells me she cares.
She calls me her flame.
And that she isn’t going anywhere.
I ask myself,
“Am I dreaming”
…

Instagram
@Joepr591

Shadowmancer, by Andrew McIntyre

Why are you scared, when their is nothing to fear,
Did you listen to the words spoken in your ear.
Dance with the shadows if you dare,
Drink wine dark and red if you care.

He dances with shadows in under moonlight,
Listen to the words that save you from fright.

Take hold of my hand let me lead you from here.
May the words spoken softly keep your heart from fear.
Throw it all to the wind may it be carried away,
Lest the sword that slashes and the day not slay.

He dances with shadows under moonlight,
Listen to the words that save you from fright.

Did you love me or not as we walked in the woods.
Sweet songs that were sung to strengthen your moods.
Take me for what i am come with me know,
Or forever leave me in the shadows power.

He dances with shadows under moonlight,
Listen to the words that save you from fright.

What Will Be Your Legacy?, by Noel A. Figueroa

When your book is opened, what will be read in the story of your life?
What will be your story that is on display for all to see?
Will it speak of your courage to persevere?
Will it speak of your determination and faith?
Will it speak of your kindness and compassion for others?
Will it speak of your empathy and diligence?
Will it speak your reflection of your love and hope in God?
Will it speak of the love you have for yourself, your community, your people?

What will be your legacy?
Will it speak your ancestor’s names and the roads they paved for you?
Will it speak of their sacrifices and their successes?
Will it speak of the lessons learned from their failures?
Will it put your achievements on display?
Will your own failures be lessons learned and used as stepping-stones?
Will it speak of a life well lived to its full capacity in purpose?

What will be your legacy?
When the children gather around and ask you to tell the stories from your time,
What will your share that will enlighten their minds?
What will be the level of your impartation?
Will you tell them that as you received help to be the vessel of blessing to others?
Will you tell them that respect, empathy and compassion are non negotiable?
Will you tell them to stand for something even if it means standing alone?
Will you tell them that one of the greatest weapons that you can have is love & respect for self?
Will you tell them that it’s because if those that came before us that we have the ability to go further and do greater works?
Will you tell them that when their purpose is clear, their passion is defined, and their vision is focused that their dreams and goals are possible.
What will be your legacy?