2018 is here
A brand new
A brand new poem
Same old me
And youre the first to read it
I am ready to take on 2018
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 Poetry: WE R HUMANS by Gladys W. Muturi
Genre: Humanity
We are human beings living on the planet called “Earth”
We are young
We are old
We are the past, present, and incoming future
We are male and female
We are gay and straight
We are the winners that take all
We are the losers we fall
We are Black
We are White
We are Latinos, Asians, and all of the above
We are best friends, lovers, and enemies
We are one’s nation under God’s oath
We are alive and well
We are sick and dead
We are disgusted by our behavior
We are dumb when we make mistakes
We are smart when we pick up the pace
We are right from wrong
We are wrong from right
Right where we are, where were from, and who we are
We are forgiven
Forgiven our enemies on what they did to us
We are loved
We need to be loved
Don’t hate us
We’re not ugly
We are beautiful, beautiful people
We should love each other, not fight
We bleed red blood, but we are different
We are violent because we want blood
We are mad because we want more
We are sad because we can’t take it.
We fight because we want to start a war
We want to stop, but we can’t stop, we won’t stop
Why can’t we?
We need help, who can help us?
We are strangers
We shouldn’t hate strangers
We shouldn’t hate children, our children
We shouldn’t hate God
We are not monsters
We are humans that speak our minds
We are Americans loving our country
We are humans build to destroy
We hate lies, betrayal, and discrimination
We hate rape, murder, racism, and drugs
We want love
Hand in Hand
We need Hugs and Kisses
We are helpers helping one human being after the other
We are who we are
We are humans
Read Poetry: Just, you.., by Marc Libidinsky
…coffee…bitter for the day;
Sweet as your smile;
Creamed with your words…Wake up,
Sleepy Head…
…a hug…for the bitter day;
Affectionate nibbles;
Sounds, more convincing than words…A hug,
Lady Bug?
…talking in your sleep…not finished with the day;
A tender kiss on your head;
Our tomorrow can wait…Dream true dreams,
My love…
Watch the DECEMBER 2017 Poetry Readings
COMEDY Best Scene Script Reading of VENUS HATES MARS, by Ricky Long
Genre: Comedy, Romance
Logline: Told in a specified three act setup, we take a humorous and dramatic look at three separate couples trying to maintain their seemingly odd relationships…
CAST LIST:
NARRATION: Vanessa Quagliara
Angela – Fiona Mongillo
Preston – Peter Nelson
Get to know the writer:
What is your screenplay about?
In a trilogy of interwoven stories, three 30 something Atlanta women struggle to maintain their complicated relationships.
What genres does your screenplay fall under?
I would classify this tale as a romantic dramedy.
Why should this screenplay be made into a movie?
I feel the universal theme of love and happiness combined with rich, real, and relatable characters will be a hit with audiences.
How would you describe this script in two words?
Two words to describe this story is Funny and Real.
What movie have you seen the most times in your life?
Hmm, I have…
View original post 221 more words
COMEDY Best Scene Script Reading of LIFE COACH, by Sandy Basran
Genre: Comedy, Romance
Logline: A young Indian male’s shaky self-confidence with women leads him to enlist an immature but fast talking co-worker as a life coach and friend who ultimately helps him break free from a manipulative girlfriend who threatens their friendship.
CAST LIST:
NARRATION: Julie C. Sheppard
Sandy – Peter Nelson
Harry – Trevor Marlatt
911 Operator – Katelyn Vanier
Get to know the writer:
1. What is your screenplay about?
It’s about two young men finding what each had been lacking: a genuine and amusing friendship that arises unexpectedly from the throes of a manipulative romantic relationship, shyness, selfishness, self-pity and an inkling of insecurity.
2. What genres does your screenplay fall under?
Comedy.
3. Why should this screenplay be made into a movie?
It’s funny, relatable and inexpensive to make. Well, I’m not sure of the last reason. I want to believe the first two. The humor…
View original post 388 more words
Read Poetry: Eerie Sea, by Patrick Turner-Lee
Awkward silence: the peace a violent under performing scream
Slicing cobwebs from the ceiling
Feelings crumble in just about time to make the clock
Busking bravely to earn a crust
If you must
Bust the bank with crowbars to get an ounce of sense
Not media just a fact for frustration
Break in glass slippers: Just bits left behind
Never mined the shattering; illusive, baking hot, tin roof reason.
Flat you lent is parting the cheeks
Flapping the wind swept alleyways of leaves.
In the eaves flicking seaweed at the passers by.
Clever tricks never opened the window to let in some air
As if we care
As if we fidget when poked with a sharp prick
A needle in the vein
A sharp instrument to flush the chained up latrine
Obscene and relentless
November 28th 2017
Read Poetry: Poem by Anthony E. Perillo
Oh, the whispering night,
The whispering night.
How softly does it speak
Of twinkling stars,
And pale moonlight,
And the rustling of the leaves.
Now it makes no sound
As it gathers round
All the things that earth contains.
While its soft caress
Leads the heart to rest,
Where the gentle stillness reigns.
From the realm of the day
Where King Hectic holds sway;
The night comes as a foe.
Brandishing its cloak
All of ebony smoke it
Sweeps the harshness away.
And the clouds as they glide
Past the moon in the sky
Make a candle aflickering
It seems. As if to remind
The deep darkness in time
That the sun in the heavens still beams.
Oh, the whispering night,
Oh, the whispering night,
A melancholy caller is he.
Though he sometimes brings dread;
When we’re snuggled abed
It’s as cozy as cozy can be.
by Anthony E. Perillo
Read Poetry: Blood Manner Panache, by Robin Carretti
Everything was playing so “Gusto”
Like he became Heavenly blood brothers
“Maestro” at the London Metro.
Having hotter than hell fling
But people were more than blood things
Feeling like a substitute or big “Hero”
What happens to some of them
they weren’t waking or O or B- cups
drinking
But a style of panache
The style of grace or disgrace
showing deeper how it cuts
like the “Reaper” all circumstances
Fewer but true redder romances
the evidence got flown away
but miraculous something has to give
Like a stewed “Hungarian Goulash”
miracles time for hot fetishes
You just felt eclat what a cliche these Vampires and
their maidens. With the raw bite of her bodice
styles were becoming. But a bigger blood manner
was moving toward her so risque
Dances storing more blood trances
of a repertoire
Their necks were suffocating watching another
lover was mating like a web server
“The Others” were sleepwalking deserter
Like another language takes over
a code talking nevermore
Back to life a style forming another soul
to capture, but the wrong type of blood
failure whats to prevail?
Like self-murder so red
Vampire’s attached bloody email
Some were at the spa-like looking wolf-like
howling that strip of a face peel
so habitually like blood uses
The best collection of blood choices
So mainstream another erotic dream
Like a style or seeing hot gesture
So popular stream forevermore
At the concert, he noticed who she was
Knock dead bloody Tis the holiday features
That maestro what style Panache
Like a french Brulee bite of toast
He was the hot bloody roast he
got her blood the most
Read Poetry: Via De Cristo, by Marc Libidinsky
I watch You pray upon Your knees
In the garden of Gethsemane,
And hear Your voice, both sure and meek,
Travail in earnest agony;
Still, wondering at Your sweat and blood –
Is strength in this and is this love?
I watch in silence as You stand
In silent protest, a just man;
Watching, see a man so wracked,
Without help, so attacked,
Until death brings some peace,
If not a just and sweet release.
I watch the faithful lay You down,
Anoint with myrrh Your bloody brow;
And, one by one all disappear,
Fearing as the night draws near:
Yet, with the morning mourning flees
As You ‘rise and bring sure peace.
Your Grace is strength and purity;
So, when I wonder at its reach,
From Heaven’s height to Calvary,
From life to death to victory,
From first confessions to the last;
I find Grace equal to the task
Your crucifixion posed to me,
So bare my cross as pleases Thee.
(c) Marc Libidinsky, 2017
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