Passion recalled like
phantom limbs
Like heroin,
the first one is free.
Do you Loki
promise
mere illusion?
Don Quixote didn’t care
* * *
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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: SOUL MATE, by Chuck Loch
We were standing in your kitchen
A long, long time ago.
I looked in your eyes and you into mine
And we felt the same fire glow, again,
We both felt the same fire glow.
You leaned against the counter.
I sat in a straight-back chair.
We talked of kings and rings and things.
I reached out and touched your hair, so soft,
I reached out and touched your hair.
You mentioned the smell of breakfast
And told me you lived before.
I said I know I was with you.
Now, it’s time to live some more, right here,
It’s time to live some more.
I remembered we were lovers.
More facts I did not know.
Together then, now together again,
You whispered it’s time to go, once more,
You whispered it’s time to go.
Some say that life has a meaning:
To find your own true love,
To travel with her together, forever,
All over the earth and above.
All over the earth and above.
* * *
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Read Poetry: Peering into Hell, by Karl Larew
Peering into Hell, my friend and I,
We made a pact one day, before a
Fire of Blood,
Before the red abyss of time,
That we would make our time obey–
And the gods laughed at that.
They laughed our hopes away.
But we couldn’t hear–luckily we didn’t
Know–
When we made our pact that day,
Peering into Hell one day,
Peering into Hell
* * *
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Read Poetry: The Family Farm, by Gerald E. Greene
The funeral ended, I sought solitude,
on petrified planks in his cold, empty barn,
transported to times of memories faded,
when he stood as a giant before childish eyes.
Wooden beams, hand chiseled, fitted together,
by strong arms and tackle, holding framework firm,
through rain storms, blizzards and changes of seasons,
retained in position over two hundred years.
He once stood as I, after grandfather died,
perhaps with emotions similar to mine,
while thinking of soil and its meaning to him,
as he viewed the patina of harvest and sweat.
My life is different, fast paced and hectic,
as lawyer with office, contracts and clients,
in city center, stressful and demanding,
requiring allegiance and greater achievements.
But ancestral echoes grow louder with time,
beckon and chasten the next generation
to honor the past with resolutions new,
so I hear and answer. “I’ll come back to the farm.”
—
Gerald E. Greene
Author Kaleidoscope – A Poetry Collection
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See: Short Stories Rated ‘G’ on Facebook
* * *
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Read Poetry: A WIDOW’S STORY, by Terita Buchanan-Moore
He was snatched from my grasp
In the blink of an eye
Tragically taken
By a thief in the night
My soulmate lost his life
In fifteen minutes
I became widowed
No longer a wife
Not by choice though
It was pure evil
Unleashed upon me and my family
Ten years later
Still in disbelief
When buried memories
Begin to surface like a vengeance
From my own remembrance
This past nightmare
Becomes a true reality
Of flashing frame shots
Stomach balled in knots
As I can sadly recall
The worst day of all
How I found him
Laying helplessly in a pool of blood
With gun residue
Scattered on his skin
In a state of shock
I mournfully watched
As my sister tried to revive him
I wish I could have turned back the clock
To the time when he was breathing
and standing right by my side
Alive and well
Moments before
Death decided to knock at our door
Holding on by a thread
I surely thought I would lose my mind instead
Our lives haven’t been the same
Since that unfortunate day
Trying to live on
After a loved one is gone
Is the hardest thing to do
Living life without him
Has been a heartbreaking task to get through
For no one can erase 38 years of his soul’s existence
In a short period of time
As the pain of not physically seeing him again
Leaves a very deep empty hole within
That no man can fill
So many thoughts of where we could have been
Often run through my head
Yet, I press on and remain strong
For I know this is something
I will never get over or understand
Why and how this was written in our life’s plan
Day after day, I’m doing the best that I can
By the grace of God
I’m living proof
As to how the Creator can keep you
During dark horrifying periods
From broken moments to happy spirits
Never thought I could feel again
But I did
No Love will ever match his
As he will be safely tucked away in a special place
In the deeper part of my heart
Forever and for always
Will I cherish those blessed days
I shared with my true love
* * *
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Read Poetry: Mother and Son by Malik Shakur
My Eyes
are filled with tears
Knowing each of the steps
I’ve taken
We’re steps
Walking with you
To the end of your
Life’s mission.
Your death
was always near
and my soul
Understood
The realization
of your end
But
Acknowledging
The existence
of your beginning
Can never be
a plausible
Mention
Without understanding
the relationship of a mother and son.
As I look back over
Our life together
I am not moved
by the lack of time
spent
But profoundly
Amazed
At what I’ve
Become.
Because of that
Their something about the relationship
between a mother and a son
That should be noted
With clarity,
Acknowledged with praise
and a keen sense of
infinite wisdom.
When a son
has been raised
to be a man
The road
a mother and son
travel
Will have,
And has had
many turns,
twist,
hills and valleys.
For many
looking at the relationship
With their noses
Pressed up against
the glass
can only see
the distance
between them,
never seeing
The reasoning
Why this
Relationship must be,
what it must be.
A Male child
has a duty to go out
Into the world
and seek his own
fame and fortune,
Start a family
Raise his children
Instill in them
Values,
pride,
Understandings,
Responsibilities and
Their purpose.
A mothers duty
is to love that male child
Believing in him
nurturing him and hoping he understands
the sacrifices
She has
given,
Believing
They will
Sustain him
in his times
of
trials and tribulations.
Throughout this Journey
their desires,
thoughts,
beatings of
hearts and
Silent prayers
Continued
Until that moment
When you
took your last
Breath
Felt your last
Heart beat
and
listen to
the last notes
of the songs
a mother and son shared.
On the date of my birth
My mother gave me the gift
Of being her first born child.
And with this gift
comes a duty like no other.
When a queen dies
it is her first born son
Whom assumes
the responsibility of
Her thrown.
Without a
Coronation
now a king that is thankful to God
charged
with keeping
the faith and family intact
Adhering
To the past
values
Wisdoms,
nurturing,
understandings
Being principled,
making sacrifices,
As she has made
Before him.
And regardless
Of how I feel
In this moment of grief
I have a duty
To honor,
Be steadfast
And adhere
To the dutifulness as a man whom is you son.
In the quite hours
After your death
Where the exchange
Of mother and son
Becomes
Son, siblings, family and friends
I know become the head of my family.
Now that you
Have passed
You now get to
Confer with
Our
Ancestors
and their ancestors
and their ancestors
about your life’s
mission to raise a son,
Your soul
has been released
back from
Whence it came
And the
Carcass we now
Morn
Can no longer
Tie
Your soul
To pain
Sickness
loss
Hopelessness
Anger
Depression
and fear.
We
Here and now
collectively
Share
A uniqueness
of time stopping
Just for a moment
And will continue
Tomorrow
Without
The presence
of you smile
The joy of Your laughter
The sway of steps
and
The calm in our storms.
You now get
To celebrate
Looking back on your time
Now past,
Telling stories
To your parents,
Laughing with your
Friends and siblings,
Holding a son
Whom has
Passed before you
But
Always keeping
a watchful eye
As the seeds
of your garden
Continues to
Grow,
Thrive, and live
The purposefulness
of a life
worth living.
As your family
We wish you
A safe passage
As your son
I only wish you LOVE.
Go to Top
* * *
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Read Poetry: Isadore Greely’s Place, by David E Navarro
Ominous beats thump the shutter
my blood throbs, I shudder within
hear the eerie creaks and groans
of stressed parched gray timber floors
and walls with each howling gust pushing
against the rough blanched stone estate,
a dark gabled palace of yesteryear
on the sparse plain midst the tall grasses
dominant within its wrought iron fence
and gnarled tree-lined perimeter,
up the hill separate that looms
above the field of wild grain overgrown.
The musty smell reeks of untold stories
better left in graves to sleep, but rest
escapes me as I lay huddled in the corner
there because my car gave up the ghost
on this chill night that might kill by morn
if I fear to lay in this cold tomb of a place
where a hoary voice breaks the dark shadows
just to simply ask if a fire would suit me.
I jump out of my shaking skin—my heart
drops into my stomach as Isadore Greely,
with glazed orange eyes from the instant fire,
introduces himself with an outstretched
gnarly hand of knuckles, then grins and says,
“No one has visited me in years,”
and intends to be quite a congenial host.
* * *
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Read Poetry: Midnight Horizon, by Barbara Hunt
Genre: Dark, scary, empowering, unknown, mystery, life
Turning and twisting out of reach
My dreams turn dark my fears unleashed
As I slowly drown in darkness I feel it’s icy touch I squirm trying to stay out of its evil clutches but it’s just not enough
The light of day continues to fade far from my reach
My heart beats fast as at last I finally see this living beast for what it truly is
I embrace it’s tendrils empowered and unafraid my fear fades far away as I dive into the darkness I now find comforting
* * *
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Read Poetry: Untitled #37, by Ryan Mettler
They were wrapped up within one another
Like tangles bits of twine;
Two threads stitching a single lover:
“I’m yours, and you’re mine.”
They embraced hard and fast,
Desperately trying to get closer
On bed-sheets stained of nights past
And pillow-talk echoing “No, sir.”
How sleeping came with sublime ease,
And they fit together like a rhyme;
They both ink’d moments just like these
As the drifted into time.
* * *
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Read Poetry: A Single Atom, by Ivor Steven
I see a shooting star, traverse the full-moon.
Like a jungle bushfire, raging out of sight.
I feel the heat of midday, smothering the night.
Like a warm body, inside her tomb.
I see the dawn, without the golden sun.
Like a Lyrebird, singing all out of tune.
I hear the morning rain, without a cloud in the sky.
Like yesterday’s floods, leaving her high and dry.
I see a sandy beach, awash by a tidal wave.
Like a burning desert, water is her grave.
I fill lonely sheets, with empty dreams.
Like a dark chasm’s irrelevant beams.
I see a summer leaf, wilted by a frosty Autumn.
Like an unwatered orchid, opening to an old anthem.
I feel like a splintered heart, inside a single atom.
Like a snake’s dead skin, her rejected emblem
* * *
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