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: Night Wandering by Eliza Rae

golden sandals with tiny
white shells, blistered heels,
pattering down a cracked
sidewalk with bright lights
gazing upon wandering eyes
greasy from the humid sun
as whiskey air fills the sky;

black lace dress like a toxin
with short leather jackets
galloping in the midnight wind,
dancers with heels to high
corners rock with pounding bass
drum beats with sticks on tubs
shouting gospel and blues

trumpets scream as the tired painters
plaster oil, slick, with putrid stench
of sulfur, piercing oiled noses
senses transfixed upon towering
buildings with marble stone, crumbling
gargoyles staring in rafters;
illuminating the masquerade
below as the golden clock
ticks two o’clock.

Read Poem: The Day She Touched My Heart by David P. Carroll

You made me feel true love
Never knowing true love
The day you touched me
I fell in love
I couldn’t believe

I’m truly in love
The pleasures of romance
Drives me crazy but full of love
Oh sweetheart let’s dance

As you touch me with
Your tender touch oh sweetheart
As your whisper softly
No other women could
Ever truly take your place
As I’ve found love

Only you could touch my heart
I don’t know what to say
I’d be still searching for love
Lovely today, but the day you
Came into my life was the Day

You touched my heart…..

Read Poem: THE FALLEN DUST by Sharon Mo

Lying on my feet
Do I? Do I have the need to be the pillar I once was before the earthquake?
Firm and tall I stood
But not today, I am just a memory
Lying scattered and hopeless on the ground
I am the fallen dust
Should I? Should I try to stand with my broken bones?
Will I? Will I be the next joke if I try to talk from my broken mind?
Look at me, dusty and broken under their feet
Trampled over like I never had any legs
Like I never stood at all
Do I? Do I have any legs or I lie amputated
Watching my shadow trying to dance like back in the days when autumn used to sing
Who? Who am I?
I am the fallen dust leaning on my feet
Praying for the gust of wind to pick me up again
I need to dance like back in the days when autumn used to sing
What? What do I have?
Nothing is all I have next to something that I am
The fallen dust

GENRE – HOPE

Read Poem: THE SEA OF TIME AND SPACE by Alejandra López

https://bardomusic.wordpress.com

The promise of glory
Tattooed on your skin, on mine
You know, I’ve been here before
And I could’ve sworn the lines were right

I had given the light that would
help me out of the forest
To men like you
Every time is real
Every time the last
I have nine lives to live too
I’ve given out my second fast

And will I die this time?

***

Empty, covers of dark blue waves,
Ocean, deep nothing

Empty, sprawling branches of earth hues,
Nature, grotesque nothing

Empty, bed of shell, renaissance of self,
Applause, expecting nothing

Empty. Empty cup, finished tea,
The stab of dusk, liberating nothing

Empty. Royal promise, loyal promise, clergy promise
A result of nothing

***

Ruffles of roots, make the man I crush someone I would understand
They build the staircase to the infinite portal
Do you dare to go?
Angels suffer, angels envy
Angels are away, all of us

I collect feathers,

white feathers, black feathers, poem feathers, music feathers
Put them in a box
Use them as bookmarks
I write with black ink
The feathers are useful
because they help me grow deep

With the rests of tortured martyrs
I’m building my own wings

Read Poem: TIMES – PATHWAYS by Eduardo Ribeiro

Time takes the dream without feeling the taste,
What freedom from a heart without flying
Only I know the way that both tiled
No stones to put on, stone that fell apart.
Brilliant sun without taste, lives by a thread
Lets spread wings and fly, even in these
Way that bleeds so much through the skies.
The hours pass the time passes the moment
So small that longing blows
Without a heart, without flying.
Open wings shine in the sun’s rays
It fills the weary heart and heaven has fallen out of dreams.
My love that love has not undone
Lived by a thin leaf by paths that I found,
Those I could not find without shaking hands.

Read Poem: To Heal My Woes by Newton Ranaweera

Kuveni, never did I want to claim

You’re a witch who trapped me in your trance;

You know I was a captive in our game,

A vicious, ruthless political dance.

I only did enact their plot to seize

Your throne and spread a tale not true at all,

A witch you were whose decease did please

Islanders lived with hopes to see your fall.

You were their queen, a beacon in their life,

The guiding star; that was the truth, dark truth;

When you fell prey to my love to be my wife,

They lost their hope; we staged our plot so smooth.

But love my love I know is true and pure;

My hope is that for sure my woes to cure.

Copyright © August 5, 2018, Newton Ranaweera

Read Poem: Erstwhile Enemies by Christopher Hickey

When I look above the treeline,

I see the clouds opening,

just enough.

A gull embraces flight,

and I track it across the late afternoon sky.

The clouds are indecisive.

Rain? Sun? Neither.

Just the remainder of a day heading to meet a dusk secret.

Hushed by heated water vapor escaping into the air.

Other birds chirp, and I do not know their names.

They gather twigs, harvest insects.

Nature is a busy industry,

defiant of encroaching societies.

Then!

A random Monarch Butterfly oscillates past me.

I’m captured in its tractor beam, by its in-flight movie.

A solitary being.

An independant film, full of beauty and lessons.

Evocative.

A meddling midwife, this butterfly.

Pulling daft dullness from my wounded womb.

Clearing the ledger of my mind.

Musing.

Stultification usurped by creative energy, passion, and fury.

Oscillating.

Rebirth, one fluttering wing at a time.

Oceans away, waves search for the moon’s gravity.

Somewhat certain of its existence, despite passing doubts.

Lunar lulling rhythm,

playing sessions of seasons.

The dark side of the moon pulls the purse strings of treasured guilt.

Also, certain of its existence.

A feeling flowing as thick as honey, but as vile as vinegar to an unsuspecting palate.

Read Poem: order order stop disorder by Dr.Y.P.Kalra

Genre: traditional values eulogized

even when the world smothers thousand shocks
we must all stand bold errect hard as rocks;
this world has falsities vanities most optimum
witness we most nasty rapacious rebellious reactions;
every way every where the gutters are open overflowing
stinking social sharks are on every street dominating:
scorpions,dragons,dungeons,draculas ransack all corners
monsters,maniacals,mephistophils,monkeys,morphine suppliers;
shuttles down honesty,morality,modesty,honesty, sincerity
shops open immorality,nudity,prolixity promiscuity,profanity:
where are temples,oh you Man they are only raping gamboling places
priests,teachers,doctors,ministers,preachers all have gods displaces.

A Footnote to Shelley’s ‘Ozymandias’ By Parveen Talpur

The Desert Woman

I remember,

Within the loose circle of a veil

A face strong, striking and pale

Bearing a Sphinx-like riddle

Its expression stoic, features intriguing

Chiseled sharply by piercing winds

Tanned darkly by the blazing sun

It called for a poet to feel its solidity

A historian to read the history engraved on it

In isolation it stood, in distance it was lost

Leaving its imprint on my memory

All these years after it keeps haunting

The only feature in the vast monotony of that desert

A rare ore amidst the grains of sand

Unread, unnoticed, unnamed

Insignificant and opposite of Ozymandias’ fame