Category: new poetry

Watch Delirium of Memories, Poetry Movie by Gloria Gonsalves

Made by the WILDsound Writing Festival

Narration by Steven Rizzo

Visual Design by Carey Daiter

Produced by Matthew Toffolo

Close up of a yellow pencil erasing the word, ‘memories’ from old, yellowed paper

Fontanelle, Poetry by David Leo Sirois

Genre: Rhyme, Life

 

Fontanelle

Clocks have been stripped from all walls

as well as all forgotten gods

in an orchestrated effort to disorient us all

 

in the cylindrical silver corridor where time abides

in its own loneliness almost absent at this time

 

Even the eyes of my eyes cannot trace

how long it has lasted & how far it will stretch its

long thin limbs It is not available for questioning at this time

 

At this time we cannot say or guess

the trajectory of flashes on/off

to open wide eyelids & shut them down again

 

The space between seconds is

interminable unbearable at times & the length of

my spine immeasurable this moment

 

The crown of my head quietly lifting off

of its own volition

 

Fragile circle of my fontanelle The point of gentle

pressure from below The tiniest bit of dust is

all I am capable of carrying at times

 

My questions sing in an unbroken flow of

legato notes a melody of urgency

toward a certain yet forever unexpected end

 

The rest is silence he said & let go of his breath

 

 

    * * * * *

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:

Gone, Poetry by minusthecynic

Genre: Religion, Inspirational

Gone: 
Goodbye opportunity to set the record straight 
Farwell comfortable silences , whispered and screamed love songs to Jesus in attempts to beat the 
summer heat 
Long dreary days 
Tear stained eyes 
Hard to deal with attitudes and personalities larger than life 
Differences of opinion, divergent paths we walk on 
Yet there is love between us buried amidst this madness 
And that’s why it aches so much inside my heart 
Cos there is no turning back the hands of time 
I will never get that period back again 
When I could have filled in the blanks 
Told you all those things you didn’t know about me 
I don’t think I ever will 
Even if I get the chance 
Cos there are some things you are better off not knowing 
Even if problems become halved when we distribute them out amongst your blood and flesh 
Why would I want to make your life more difficult by struggling to summon up the love required 
In response to my situation 
I’d rather not make your life a simulation of a living hell 
Far better for you to continue on with your life in happy smiling ignorant bliss 
Than to possess the knowledge that your own kindred has done something dreadful 
Trespassed upon the unthinkable boundary 
Crossing the threshold into the dark realm of undiscovered country that should have remained 
Unkempt and free of exploration by absolutely anyone 
My soul was cannibalized and colonized like a colon cancer 
And I do not possess the answer within me 
As to why I would allow my mind to become deceived in this way 
Yet that is the biggest reason why our time has been thieved so rapidly 
Why I find myself desperately rushing my words hoping to create some semblance of normality 
In the way the two of us relate 
 
 
Even if you think my mentality is out of date 
You never said as much to my sweet and sour indulging face 
You never completely gave up on me 
As I did you 
Dismissing your very existence 
Shunning you like the pilgrims once did 
As if that would bring your eyes any closer to heaven 
And pull you any further away from a hellish future 
Oh so scornful am I of the way you live your life 
Yet when faced with temptation I cave I crumble just as you once did 
So who am I the high and mighty one fallen off his haughty Clydesdale 
Regaling you with mystic charm the bale of hay wailing in your arms 
Is it a more dangerous thing to possess 
Arms if you be an amputee or just like me limbed and reckless 
What if everything we once loved and cherished about the way we relate to each other 
Has disappeared forever beyond the horizon’s vanishing point 
You are far more charitable towards me in your thoughts than I ever was to you 
And I wonder why I deserve such grace when all I ever do is spit in your face 
Just treat you with contempt and act like I’m exempt from responding to kindness  
With something other than cruelty and disdain 
Some other mood than irate closed off disregard for human life 
Leaving you alone to do your own thing 
While I tread down my path, aloof head in the clouds 
Can I be any more like Jesus I ask myself 
Can I start over , act as if the preceding weeks had not been a challenge 
To keep the nightmares bursting out my head 
To draw you deeper in my dark callous net 
If only I could perfectly reflect 
The love I aim to emulate Jehovah gives me 
If I had but the will and strength inside me 
To overcome my straying towards worldliness 
 
 
V2 
What I am really angry about 
More than anything else in the world 
Is mostly myself 
For allowing all these hours to slip through my fingers 
Was it fear of confrontation 
Funny that I didn’t have a problem with starting controversy 
Courting it as if I was its betrothed bride 
And yet in the heat of the moment look at me 
See how I shrink away inside myself  
When provided with the chance to stand up for righteousness 
Not wanting to humiliate or cause pain to my fellow womb room sharer 
Desiring anything but to push you away into the shadowlands 
I have dabbled with the darkness for far too long 
That’s why I’m trying to protect you from its encroaching cloaking devices 
I don’t know how to disagree with you and keep things amicable between us 
It seems like my words just wound when I want them to heal and soothe 
I need the Lord to take control of my mouth and set a guard on my lips 
Transform my mind so I can deal with the challenge of preserving it from wickedness 
Can we have a get together without going over the same old familiar topical territory 
Must our home always be the location for verbal sparring 
What is the point or purpose to our endless warring 
Isn’t this supposed to be a time of generous spirits 
Are we not called to love one another and bring peace, joy and love to the world 
How can we do that if it doesn’t exist within our own home 
We are divided amongst ourselves when we should be a united front 
Us against the universe 
Or at the very least being used as a catalyst 
To bring this galaxy in submission to Jehovah 
Convince souls to bow the knee willingly before we are coerced and compelled by blazing fiery eyes 
V3 
 
 
I remember a time when we possessed far more similar looking minds 
When His power and His glory was our enduring passion 
Before the fashions of society dictated our response to His gospel truth 
Before the rules of some countries lorded it over our willingness to live out our faith 
When it contradicts the popular opinion of the day 
Did we forget sin is as old as time 
It goes back to the most perfect garden that ever lived and breathed 
Why are we so surprised that evil and poverty still exist in the world 
It is not because of our deeds always that sickness occurs within us 
Though diet and exercise has a lot to do with it 
Both its presence and its absence 
Some starve themselves for the sake of affection 
Yet find a greater affection in starvation than the arms of an angel formed in human shape 
Time is a precious commodity we have in short supply 
I watch it fly on by like butterflies out the window 
I don’t attempt to catch it just let it drift on , go 
Above those maddening crowds and saddening clouds 
Putting a dampener on my swimming at the beach plans on Christmas day 
Not that it matters if a tradition is upheld 
If it gets in the way from our view of the cross 
And the cradle of a manger where our sweet saviour once lay 
The focus of our attention should be drawn to Him always 
How to deal with what I feel 
When our saviour is gone from this earth 
But not from our hearts 
I have to keep on believing and telling myself 
That He still lives in you no matter how far you appear to drift from Him in your ideology 
You still claim to know Him you still cling to His love desperately 
Like a drowning man sinking in the sea of seemingly limitless possibilities 
We have far too many options   these days of what to believe in 
Yet God’s truth stands alone in its uniqueness 
 
 
The only God who ever claimed to be the truth itself 
The only God who ever gave His life to save the world 
To save it from the damage 
Swords it drew into itself thrusting madly 
Like a wolf not seeing the frozen knife in the ice hole 
Dipped in the blood of seals 
In frenzy piercing itself with furious illogic 
We cause ourselves harm when we drift from His arms 
When we try to make our own godling 
When we ascribe His goodness to ourselves and our badness to His mindset 
Yet our sins do not fully describe all that we are 
We are not them though they may belong to us alone 
We are so much more than meets the eye 
And yet we judge each other based only upon what is revealed by glancing at our surfaces 
Do we not see 
The hands of heaven working behind the scenes 
To pull us closer to salvation’s kingdom 
Do we not hear 
The voice of trumpets calling us 
From beyond the grave like mental state of selfishness 
Into a holy state of being absorbed wholly in Him  
V4 
The conflict of humanity remains 
Ever unresolved til the return of Christ 
There is so much left unsaid 
For fear of upsetting the delicate balance between us 
So many of our feelings we kept locked up within the cavern bound cupboards of our soul 
For the sake of dodging sniping bullets of sarcastic wit and plastic versions of authentic expression 
The seasonal smiles of presumption on the part of the customers to always remain correct 
The urge to uphold tradition to provide a home of hospitality and create a welcoming atmosphere 
The dear and tender moments , once cherished long since neglected 
 
 
Those activities we once indulged in that lit a flame of tenderness within our youthful hearts 
Like washing lines of Christmas cards and oversized socks only suitable for gargantuan feet 
Barely recalled snowmen with carrot stick noses and coal button eyes 
Scarves wrapped around their necks and somebody’s hat probably dad’s laid atop its crumbling mug 
Drinking warm cups of cocoa and egg nog so often anyone would think they were our drug 
Cutting off a slice of a life we left behind in the foggy wintry past 
V5 
As bits and pieces of your language become transformed , mangled and tangled 
When learning a new tongue forces you to deteriorate in knowledge of your own 
As your way of relating to the world alters and you seem to grow yourself a second skin 
The casual lackadaisical attitude we grew up with appears forced unwelcome in your being 
Not sitting comfortably with the prim and proper strict and punctual manner of behaviour 
You have grown accustomed to in later years 
My teardrops fall for the passionate crusader you once were 
For the negotiations and compromises you made within yourself 
Decisions you might argue you were forced to make by necessity 
Not choosing who you love or willing to lose an argument in order to maintain a lasting friendship 
Possibly unaware of the pressure you exert upon blood flowing unrestricted through his pores 
I know it’s about more than settling old scores for you 
Why are you endlessly attempting to bring us all round to your point of view 
Can’t you just let the matter rest 
Let it die with the dodos 
I know it is a tragedy that we should just lock up this topic and 
Leave it as just one of many things we are not long allowed to talk about 
For fear of treading on sensitive toes 
But better that scenario than this cold war exerting all the strength 
Exhausting all the love, suffocating any compassion between us 
Why must we always be forced to take sides 
Can’t we talk about something anymore that doesn’t result in volcanoes of hot fury 
Erupting suddenly when wires get crossed and confusion thrives 
Our sweet honey hive was never meant 
 
 
To harbour such disillusionment 
We shouldn’t have to play pretend 
To mend our shattered chain of hearts  

 

 

 

    * * * * *

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:

Ophelia; from Isolation to Desolation, Poetry by Bicky Saikia

Genre: Minimalism

Shredded heart bleeds blue
high and isolated
she is her own muse.
Sinking in whisky 
headed up to desolation,
betrayed yet easy to wield,
standing next to misery.

She is ophelia
Belongs to a forbidden town.
a victim and stressed lover,
stumbled and floundered 
innocence died with her virgin blood
youth is now aged bride 
exaggerate some wailing groove.

Sings and weeps
scars and tattoos shine 
her unadorned and blazed ancient beauty 
ushers to vanity and delusions 
She slept with a dethroned prince
kiss and undress that ample girl
tried to be faded by singing celtic song
accused by unforgiven deeds of others 
from isolation ophelia headed upto desolation.

 

 

    * * * * *

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:

Sunday Blues, Poetry by Barbara D.M.

Genre: Melancholy

Title: Sunday Blues 
Sunday blues
calling her name
She sat there empty,
time slipping away
Galaxies in her eyes
Cups stained with her lips
Shadows across the room
Aching bones
Smudged lines down her face,
thinking of better days
-Barbara D.M.

 

 

    * * * * *

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:

Watch the December 2016 Poetry Readings

Poetry performed by Michelle Alexander

Poetry Reading – Unforgettable by Prateek Pappee Pandya 

Poetry Reading – ROGUE WAVE by Joanne Van Leerdam

Poetry Reading – One Thing Left In Oklahoma by Carolyn Reese

Poetry Reading: not me by Jose Carlos Peliano

Poetry Reading – Inertia Lightning Rod by James R Adams II

Poetry Reading – A SHIP LOG by Hilde Susan Jaegtnes

Poetry Reading – The Lighthouse by Julie A Martin

Performed by Val Cole

Get to know the poet:

What is the theme of your poem?

It’s a limerick about karma.

How would you like people to respond when they read or watch your poetry reading?

I would love for readers to think about the meaning and the words, for it to touch them in some way.

How long have you been writing poetry?

I’ve been writing poetry for about the last several years, and I have been writing Fiction for about the last thirty years.

Do you have a favorite poet?

My favorite poet is TS Eliot

What influenced you to submit to WILDsound and have your poetry performed by a professional actor?

I have been trying to record myself reading my poems and I jumped at the chance to hear a professional actor do it. I think it will ultimately help me learn to voiceover my own work.

Do you write other works? scripts? Short Stories? Etc..?

I have written a novel, which I am in the process of querying, and several short stories.

What is your passion in life?

My passion in life is writing, although I also love martial arts, cooking, reading, and painting.

Poetry Reading – A SHIP LOG by Hilde Susan Jaegtnes

Performed by Michelle Alexander

Get to know the poet:

What is the theme of your poem?

My poem has a theme. The theme is a park. A theme park of failed love, fallen trees and the growth of despair.

How would you like people to respond when they read or watch your poetry reading?

As if they were passengers on the Danish ferry and were notified by the purser that the ferry was about to sink.

How long have you been writing poetry?

Since the age of 8. My first poem was about a squirrel eating pinecones in a tree.

Do you have a favorite poet?

Norwegian poet Gunnar Wærness.

What influenced you to submit to WILDsound and have your poetry performed by a professional actor?

The sweet craving of exposure!

Do you write other works? scripts? Short Stories? Etc..?

I also write screenplays for film and TV, prose and essays.

What is your passion in life?

Trying to figure out what it looks like in other people’s heads and finding words to match my dreams and fantasies.

Poetry Reading – Unforgettable by Prateek Pappee Pandya

Performed by Michelle Alexander

Get to know the poet:

What is the theme of your poem?

Love and romance.

How would you like people to respond when they read or watch your poetry reading?

I want them to feel the rythms
and emotions of the poem as its a beautiful description of love and sentiments.

How long have you been writing poetry?

A year and half.

Do you have a favorite poet?

William Wordsworth and
William Shakespeare etc.

What influenced you to submit to WILDsound and have your poetry performed by a professional actor?

I believe that WILDsound is a very good platform for all of us, as every poem can be converted to a beautiful song so it would be so nice to see it as through.

Do you write other works? scripts? Short Stories? Etc..?

I write passages but never got serious to it.

What is your passion in life?

To love and be loved.

Poetry Reading – One Thing Left In Oklahoma by Carolyn Reese

Poem performed by Michelle Alexander

Get to know the poet:

What is the theme of your poem?

Lost love?

How would you like people to respond when they read or watch your poetry reading?

I’d like for them to want it to be sung or put to music.

How long have you been writing poetry?

.Since I was nine years old.

Do you have a favorite poet?

Emily Dickinson/ee cummings

What influenced you to submit to WILDsound and have your poetry performed by a professional actor?

My script entry had its chops busted and was refused for performance, so I thought I would try a poem.

Do you write other works? scripts? Short Stories? Etc..?

I write scripts but am probably going to take all the scripts I have written and turn them into or back in to short stories since they don’t seem to impress anyone.

What is your passion in life?

To be paid regularly for fiction I write. I would say writing but I am going to write no matter what, if it isn’t excepted, if it isn’t liked so maybe my passion is more like a goal.