DARK Poetry Contest (Winner gets poem made into film)

Deadline February 28th. Submit a poem that’s about something DARK and get it made into a movie. 

Accepting any poetry in any genre or length that’s about DARKNESS in any way.

All poems will be posted on this network. Over 95,000 unique visitors a day. The winning poem will have their poetry made into a movie. SPECIAL NOTE: Every single entry will get their poetry performed by a professional actor and made into a video.

The RULES are simple:

1. Write a POEM that’s about DARK. Send it to this contest for $20 and it will be POSTED on this site guaranteed for 100,000s to see. Plus, every entry will get their poetry performed at the festival and made into a video. (you own all rights to this poem and whenever you want it taken down, send us an email).

2. Email your POEM to submission@festivalforpoetry.com in .pdf, .doc, .wpd, .rtf, or .fdr format or just cut and paste it into the body of the email.

3. SUBMIT as many poems as you like. One fee per poem entry.

4. The poem can be anything about DARKNESS. An event/situation about DARKNESS in general. Any topic from optimism, tragedy, to politics.

5. PAY THE $20 SUBMISSION FEE. Guaranteed post on this network. Results to be emailed by January 20th.

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Watch Recent Poems made into a MOVIE:

Part 1 – Read the best of DARK Poetry

CLICK the link and read the best of DARK Poetry from the last 18 months from around the world. Enjoy. 

DEMONS, by Casiar Meloy
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/10/30/demons-poetry-by-casiar-meloy/

CHAOTIC SIMPLICITY, by Kelly Rice
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/11/07/chaotic-simplicity-poetry-by-kelly-rice/

HAPPY, by Samrat Rudra
https://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2017/01/30/happy-poetry-by-samrat-rudra/

THE PLAYGROUND, by Phillip Rivers
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2016/10/13/the-playground-poetry-by-phillip-rivers/

EVERYONE’S FINE, by Marie Catalan
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2016/08/24/everyones-fine-poetry-by-marie-catalan/

UNFORGIVING, by KL Porter
https://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2016/08/09/unforgiving-poetry-by-k-l-porter/

THE DISTANT, by Kelly Rice
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2016/07/02/the-distant-present-tense-poetry-by-kelly-rice/

CHILD OF MIDNIGHT, by Anthony Silva
https://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2016/06/20/child-of-midnight-poetry-by-anthony-silva/

THE MAN, by Edward Matyja
https://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2016/06/11/the-man-poetry-by-edward-matyja/

GASOLINE TEARS, by Gina Walker III
https://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2016/06/11/gasoline-tears-poetry-by-gina-walker-iii/

VIGOROUSLY UPBEAT, by Kelly Rice
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2016/01/07/vigorously-upbeat-poetry-by-kelly-rice/

DISMAL, by Sonya Devyakin
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/11/20/dismal-poetry-by-sonya-devyatkin/

EULOGY FOR A BAT, by Kathy Figueroa
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/10/14/eulogy-for-a-bat-poetry-by-kathy-figueroa/

ONCE NOTHING, by Adam White
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/10/10/once-nothing-poetry-by-adam-white/

DIMMER, by Shannon R. Giedieviells
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/10/21/dimmer-poetry-by-shannon-r-giedieviells/

THE NOVEMBER WAR, by Kathy Figueroa
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/10/19/the-november-war-poetry-by-kathy-figueroa/
LUFTMENSCHEN, by LJ Kessels
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/09/28/luftmenschen-2-poetry-by-lj-kessels/

SWEAR TO ME, by Will Humphrey
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/09/28/swear-to-me-poetry-by-will-humphrey/

I PROMISE, by Sky Boivin
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/09/23/i-promise-poetry-by-sky-boivin/

FOREVER NO, by Billie Myers
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/09/19/forever-no-poetry-by-billie-myers/

THE CURATOR, by John Taurek Baziw
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/09/06/the-curator-poetry-by-john-taurek-baziw/

BLACK WHITE AND BLOOD, by Lizzie Heart
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/09/06/black-white-and-blood-poetry-by-lizzie-heart/

LITTLE GIRL, by Tessarra Parrish
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/08/30/little-girl-poetry-by-tessarra-parrish/

THROUGH THE WHISPERS OF A DREAM, by Stephen Lodge
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/08/28/through-the-whispers-of-a-dream-poetry-by-stephen-lodge/

UNITITLED, by Nina Katungi
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/08/21/untitled-poem-poetry-by-nina-katungi/

NO TITLE, by Richard M. Knittle JR.
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/08/21/no-title-poetry-by-richard-m-knittle-jr/

CURTAINS LEAK, by Kelly Rice
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/08/15/curtains-leak-poetry-by-kelly-rice/

THE STREET I LIVED, by Chey Laine
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/08/01/the-street-i-lived-by-chey-laine/

FOREIGN CORRSPONDENT, by Ricky Hawthorne
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/07/20/foreign-correspondent-poetry-by-ricky-hawthorne/

THE CURRENT CRIME, by Leslie Moon
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/07/16/the-current-crime-poetry-by-leslie-moon/

WALKING WITH GHOSTS, by Lucy Williams
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/07/08/walking-with-ghosts-poetry-by-lucy-williams/

DEAR PAST SELF, by Kris Dionio
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/07/08/dear-past-self-poetry-by-kris-dionio/

SCREAMS OF MELANCHOLY, by Mohammad Shahnawaz
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/07/02/screams-of-melancholy-poetry-by-mohammad-shahnawaz/

MY DEAR BOY, by Camila Cal
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/27/my-dear-boy-poetry-by-camila-cal/

THE COLOR OF HUNGER, by Mikayla Baldwin
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/27/the-color-of-hunger-poetry-by-mikayla-baldwin/

DARK MATTER BRAIN, by Kate McClelland
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/19/dark-matter-brain-poetry-by-kate-mcclelland/

THE HEART TALES, by Gloria Oyewusi
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/19/the-hearts-tales-poetry-by-gloria-oyewusi/

STAND YOUR GROUND, by H. Lee
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/16/stand-your-ground-poetry-by-h-lee/

SEXUAL LUST, by Prism Divinity
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/16/sexual-lust-poetry-by-prism-divinity/

YOU COULDN’T HURT ME, by Juliette Westbrook Finch
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/16/you-couldnt-hurt-me-more-poetry-by-juliette-westbrook-finch/

UNICORN, by Rachel Cummins
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/11/unicorn-poetry-by-rachel-cummins/

CORNERS, by Jonathan Baltzly
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/07/corners-poetry-by-jonathan-baltzly/

THE WARRING HARRIDAN, by Cassandra Swan
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/07/the-warring-harridan-poetry-by-cassandra-swan/

THE CLOWN, by Arnab Dey
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/01/the-clown-poetry-by-arnab-dey/

I HATE THAT I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, by Zari Riley
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/29/i-hate-that-i-love-you-so-much-poetry-by-zari-riley/

INHERIT THE SIN, by Toto Che Handala
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/28/inherit-the-sin-poetry-by-toto-che-handala/

DARK RAIN, by Ava Leigh Stewart
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/28/dark-rain-poetry-by-ava-leigh-stewart/

PAIN, by Muthoni Ngige
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/23/pain-poetry-by-muthoni-ngige/

THE DRINKING GAME, by Hanna Abi Akl
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/23/the-drinking-game-poetry-by-hanna-abi-akl/

PENDING SORROW, by Chris Hill
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/16/pending-sorrow-poetry-by-chris-hill/

REFLECTIONS OF NOTHING, by Billoy Bobber
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/15/reflections-of-nothing-poetry-by-billy-bobber/

A Soul less Existence, Poetry by Barbara Hunt

Left alone in the darkness of solitude trapped in her mind cold and desperate scratching around for escape things becoming tragic as all hope was lost in the depths of the void
A mask covered her face as she was being betrayed and manipulated by someone she loved so dearly

Genre: Dark, Depression, and Hurt

A Soul less Existence by Barbara Hunt

Left alone in the darkness of solitude trapped in her mind cold and desperate scratching around for escape things becoming tragic as all hope was lost in the depths of the void
A mask covered her face as she was being betrayed and manipulated by someone she loved so dearly
A witch with a disguise of compassion and love looked back an evil grin plaguing her face
The evil seeped down turning into tentacles as an evil laugh erupted from her lungs as she smelled pure terror
Capturing her the darkness licked at her heels casting away all hope and love slowly leaving behind a shell of who she once was
As she took her last breath her pure soul stolen she warned the people she loved of its true colors and closed her eyes embraced by the warmth of peace

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Vntitlxd, Poetry by Xzaviar Allen

I might sit down and light a whole spliff, my handwriting like I’m writing old scripts with a quill or ink pen

Genre: Hip Hop/Rap Lyrics, Dark, Thoughtful

Vntitlxd by Xzaviar Allen

I might sit down and light a whole spliff, my handwriting like I’m writing old scripts with a quill or ink pen, let the marijuana sink in until I tip off the deep end, fuck it I’ve been drinking all weekend, I usually keep the same routine- it’s all sequenced, I just wanna have some sunshine bleed through all seasons, when it’s dark out I make my own-caught in the rain tryna make it home in time to write an ancient poem on my favorite phone, living life in the danger zone- all straps and no archers, the gods of rap so heartless, lord send me a pen so I can write for once, looking for dawn to fight the dusk- I’m bout to Tyson up, lighten up- it’s another day in the jungle, another day I will run through life wondering what my days will come to, but staying humble- in the back ground I laugh now, among prostitutes alcohol and crack vials.








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Evils Deception, Poetry by Barbara Hunt

Shadows fooling all trying to help the situation hid as a facade of stability and love was all that could be seen as no one suspected the plot that was forming

Whispers in the night became louder as her lies and deception grew

Genre: Dark, Family, Evil, and Hurt

Evils Deception by Barbara Hunt

Shadows fooling all trying to help the situation hid as a facade of stability and love as no one suspected the plot that was forming

Whispers in the night became louder as her lies and deception grew

Darkness soon surrounded all involved as they became engulfed slowly losing pieces of there soul in the warm silence

Her tendrils erupted as the air thinned and a deafening cry was heard as anger and realization reared there heads ready to end all plots

Betrayal stung as bile grew in there throats as there hatred almost as black as the tendrils consumed them freezing the warmth of there blood

No one knew what would happen so as they took a shallow breathe they looked into the face of evil and smiled ready for the fight to the death

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

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Family Destruction, Poetry by Barbara Hunt

She stared at it a carbon copy of herself stared back smiling exposing it’s horrible jagged teeth and a dead expression

Genre: Dark, Depression, Scary, and Family

Family Destruction
by Barbara Hunt

Dark and sinister it was as it stared down at her a devilish smile played on its lips as amusement raised in its eyes

She stared at it a carbon copy of herself stared back smiling exposing it’s horrible jagged teeth and a dead expression

This monster was of the worst in nature and as she stared at it she became cornered as it pulled her down into the depths of the underworld
Sealing her fate as no cries would ever be heard she closed her eyes delving further into the abyss she uttered it’s name in the eternal silence mourning the loss of peace

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

Watch Poetry performance readings:

Watch Poetry made into Movies:

Missing Pieces, Poetry by Barbara Hunt

Despair and longing shredded his soul as he silently gazed upon the family he once had

Pain smoldered and cut through his heart like a knife causing an ache as rememberance flung him into a dark hole cold to the touch shuddering as if very sad

Genre: family, dark, sad, and lost

Missing Pieces
by Barbara Hunt

Despair and longing shredded his soul as he silently gazed upon the family he once had

Pain smoldered and cut through his heart like a knife causing an ache as rememberance flung him into a dark hole cold to the touch shuddering as if very sad

Nothing could be done he had to save his brothers soul even if it was black and deep as rocks of coal

The small window of family closed never to be forgotten as he said a silent goodbye he turned wishing things were different but alas this was his choice and these sacred pieces would have to continue to be lost

 

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

Watch Poetry performance readings:

Watch Poetry made into Movies:

MISERY’S DISPENSARY, Poem by Nick Meridionale

emotions have always meant the most to me
I mean, really
do you think there’s anything in life
not worth feeling?
words slither through our skin
and enter our bodies
like my brain emits T.H.C. ;

Genre: depression, addiction, sad, suicidal, dark, drugs, confused, empty, bitter

Misery’s Dispensary
by Nick Meridionale

emotions have always meant the most to me
I mean, really
do you think there’s anything in life
not worth feeling?
words slither through our skin
and enter our bodies
like my brain emits T.H.C. ;

T.
H.
C.

this
head
can’t
take
hell’s
campaign;
the
hanging
chord,
the
hop
from the chair
this. head. can’t. take! hell’s campaign!
the hanging chord, the hop from the chair…
the hanging corpse!

common symptoms include:
blotched eyes and dry sweat
depending on what high you’re aiming for;
joy or sadness
I cough and I choke,
trying to fill my lungs
up the most,
but my throat becomes a waterfall
layered out in smoke
and I ponder if my mother will witness
my ghost
after she lowers my body into an eternal and
earthy comatose.

I think the most miserable types of people
are one’s whose bodies have become
empty and dried up rivers
where even dead fish can’t deliver
satisfaction to the bellies of vultures
our hearts can’t get
accepted by society’s norms or cultures
we are different types of people
who feel much deeper than others
we hear words heavily,
and we listen with keen ears

so I had my first high
and suddenly
my empathy was at an all time high,
I was able to see my
own desires and dreams
physically by my side
and I could smell the future’s meadow
but after a few hours
I returned to my past’s shadow

now that I’ve had my last hit
it’s hard for me to feel it;
the emotion.
the passion.
I’ve fallen in love with the fashion
that withdrawal dresses me in
instead of clothes I wear my skeletons!

“save that hit for
a rainy day.
and if your head
feels like a hurricane
then take as many as you may.
if your vice keeps you dreaming
at least it mutes the sounds
of your demons screaming.”

lately I’ve been stuck in my creative ocean
I used to row a boat and feel the motion
of the waves;
typing words down on a cracked phone screen
just to feel solace
under the hot summer sun
but I’ve lost a paddle,
I’ve broken a few wings

so when these sharks circle me
and they start to sing
I fear that I may die.
I feel death in my tiny stone soul
consuming my heart
and continuing to grow;
so when the sun screams at me
and my skin starts to crow
I long for the colder climates
of the coffins down below

I love feelings
I love feeling sad, even miserable
I love feeling happy and joyous
jubilance is a fruitfulness that I rarely emit
and morbidity has scrutiny when it fishes
for the bigger catches inside of me
once the sun dries me up, and
depression devours all that I have to give,
my river will become the trench
that murderers bury the victims
they deemed unworthy to live

my soil can’t decay, it actually
grows wealthy at the taste of lifeless skin
I kiss the corpses of young women and children
to feel a sustenance
that beautiful women
and children’s eyes
once poured into my soul,
I once held an abundance of substance
now I’m a bag of blood,
abusing myself by using substances.
I’m a bag of bones
amusing others, swearing I know what substance is…

but as the days go on,
and the sun’s volumes become more and more immense
I will decay and feast on whatever
the devil can dispense
this sobriety is painfully subsiding,
it’s fastening the blade to my wrists
how many cadavers does a dying man have to kiss,
to confirm he has a pulse,
and swear he’s not one of them?

(n.j.m.)

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THE PEAR, Poetry by Patrick D. Peay

Let me plant my bitter seed, and we can make a better breed

They’ll know not to complain about the rain

The rain is like good therapy

It is food for the pear tree

So we can live a life that is carefree

There is no partridge in this tree

Genre: Maniacal Spoken Word

THE PEAR by Patrick D. Peay

While I sit in my lair with a painting of a pear

I sit and stare off into thin air and wonder why life isn’t fair

I wouldn’t dare compare my flare to that of another player

I’m just a man in his lair with a painting of a pear

I swear I won’t get stressed out and pull out all my hair

These burdens I bear make me aware that people like me are rare

I’m just a man in his lair with a painting of a pear

I’m not square, so don’t give me that glare

It’s not like I’m running for mayor

I’ve got a prayer my soul is spared

I’m not a hero, but don’t say I didn’t care

I’m just a man in his lair with a painting of a pear

 

Let me plant my bitter seed, and we can make a better breed

They’ll know not to complain about the rain

The rain is like good therapy

It is food for the pear tree

So we can live a life that is carefree

There is no partridge in this tree

This isn’t for the industry

The fruits of my loom are for my enemies

I’m just a man in his lair with a painting of a pear

There’s something on my mind I would like to share

This is not a Facebook status

This could come without practice

Practice, we’re talking about practice, practice

Muscle memory should make this automatic

Why not burn to the core like acid that is muriatic

The blood I shed is hydrochloric

There should be a warning for it

There’s passion in my veins, I can’t ignore it

I seek to do something that is historic

I’m just a man in his lair with a painting of a pear

Sometimes I give myself quite a scare

 

That’s right sometimes I scare myself, but I’ve learned to prepare myself

There will always be a call when you need my help

So just keep picking at my pears

Soon enough the traps I’ve set will ensnare

Then you will be the one that’s in despair

I’m just a man in his lair with a painting of a pear

I deal with shades that are fifty times grayer

 

 

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Thought Nazi’s, Poetry by Benzuko

It pays well to be scared, it’s easy to make enemies when your thoughts are shared. Just one wrong word and everyone will see, the true price you pay for wanting to be free. Most of the haters are only in it for their careers, pretending to be hurt and lying about their fears.

Genres: Dark, Social Philosophy, controversy, Rhyme

Thought Nazi’s

It pays well to be scared, it’s easy to make enemies when your thoughts are shared. Just one wrong word and everyone will see, the true price you pay for wanting to be free. Most of the haters are only in it for their careers, pretending to be hurt and lying about their fears. When you stand against the mob you’re a hero without a cape, meanwhile the feminists conspire and accuse all men of rape. You are a harasser now locked up with no key, the feminists are in control and always will be. Our message must be clear to the heads of Twitter, the thought Nazi’s will not stop until all opinions are one sided and bitter.

By Benzuko

Twitter @Benzuko

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