Read Poetry: Outrunning The Rain – by David E. Gates

Genre: Rhyme, Life

Outrunning The Rain – by David E. Gates

Outrunning the rain.

Outgunning the pain.

Fighting back the tears.

Even though it’s been years.

Like drops from the sky,

They multiply.

Each glistening and clear.

Each a perfect tear.

Outrunning the rain.

On board the train.

Swept away on the tracks.

As emotion racks.

Biting my lip.

So my cover won’t slip.

Keeping up face.

No matter the place.

Outrunning the rain.

Feeling the strain.

Pain doesn’t subside.

I just want to hide.

Away from the looks.

And into my books.

Distraction is key.

For my sanity.

Outrunning the rain,

Another smile I feign,

They say it won’t last.

The pain will soon pass.

Isn’t like that for me.

It has longevity.

Though I’m better each day.

With strength I’ll outstay.

Outrunning the rain.

Dousing the flame.

Memories keep me sane.

Outrunning the rain.

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Read Poetry: Baking Soda, by Paris Tate

Baking Soda
By: Paris Tate
Genre: Family, Life, Mothers

Like every momma, she had her own remedies,
like baking soda
on a canker sore. It doesn’t sound easy,
but it worked; besides, her own
mother (my grandmother, died before
I was born) tried this on her,
“And see? I survived.” (Shrug).
I wouldn’t budge; She needed to bend before me
at the bathroom sink, tug
at my lip to expose the ulcer, milk white
and irritated by a curious tongue
running over its crater.
“Hold still.”
It’s better to plunge into the drama,
to twist and grind a coated finger into
the open wound before my consent.
The sting doesn’t make a noise;
if it did, it would have sizzled,
hissed like meat frying on a skillet,
or the poppop…pop of grease landing on
dodging fingers.
And it was over, the pain left
to fade as I slept away anger on the jaw.
My momma
and baking soda
taught me the first life lesson:
sometimes, it must get worse, then better.
By the time I had reached my twenties
I had heard this saying so many times,
in so many ways,
that it began to sound too hopeful
for a self-styled cynic. So maybe
that’s why it’s only true when I hear
it in her voice on days it’s time

to resort to her remedy.

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Read Poetry: Dreams… by Buffy Sammons

Genre: Inspirational

Dreams…

By Buffy Sammons..

In my dreams, I am laughing, smiling, joking and walking fast and tall.

I never lose my stride, as I’m holding your hand, without fear of a fall…

You hold me tight as if you are wrapping wings around my heart

Like my own private secret secret-service angel that will never let me fall apart…

If only the dreams would never end and I could stay..

In the fantasy of you and I being wild and free as the wind blows warm as if to make our worries fade away…

Sometimes I dream of loved ones lost, as we sit together and talk like old times, no pain just conversing, laughing, and having fun…

Other times it’s my bucket list that I share with you, as we float in a warm pool with my umbrella in a tropical drink in hand soaking in the Hawaiian sun…

Not a care in the world everything is beautiful and Grand..

As I look at nature’s wonders, and bury my feet into the warm white sand…

Sometimes we take flight along the shores looking down at the water, so crystal clear and blue.

On a zip line in this beautiful place, that was made especially for two…

How do I stay in the slumber of soft, beautiful, heavenly memories both from the past, and some that may never be…

But I have to accept that when I awake there is a reason that I’m still here as I look up and I see…

The wheelchair near the bed that are basically chained to me each and every day…

I’ll deal with the hand that God dealt to me, because there is a reason I wake up again each day and can truthfully say…

When the dreams don’t stop one day and I don’t awaken from my sleep…

It will mean that my purpose was the fulfilled and I will take my final rest knowing that it’s no longer a dream, as I pray to the Lord my soul to keep..

I will be reunited with those loved and lost in my life that I really still love and miss…

And from the heavens I will take the seat being saved, as I send my loved ones a final kiss…

I sincerely send my Love to you all… For always keeping me from fear of the fall…

Poetry Reading: ON THE WATER by Tammi Croteau

Poetry performed by Amaka Umeh

POETRY 7 questions:

What is the theme of your poem?

The theme is growing up and letting go – a father’s desire for his son to become a strong man (even when he’s not quite willing to let go of his little boy yet). There’s also a hint of co-parenting between mother ocean and the father on the shore, building trust as the little boy sails off on his own to become the man they’ve raised him to be.

What motivated you to write this poem?

A former soldier had contacted me to thank me for believing in him when I was his commander. He’d had a rough time and made a lot of mistakes, but his son was his reason for turning his life around and I was very proud of him for that.

How long have you been writing poetry?

Since I was in high school (though I was much cheesier way back then!)

If you could have dinner with one person (dead or alive), who would that be?

Jimmy Buffett – he’s my calypso poet role model in songwriting.

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

I think in movie scenes. Poetry helps to bring words and images to life in the minds of the readers, so a professional reading would add a whole new dimension.

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

I’ve self-published two collections of poems and short stories as well as a children’s book and song lyrics. I’ve also completed one full-length feature script.

What is your passion in life?

Connections – learning how people, places, things, and events are intertwined.

Poetry Reading: What is Love, by Colin Guest

Performed by Amaka Umeh

POETRY 7 questions:

What is the theme of your poem?

Love.

What motivated you to write this poem?

My strong feelings of love for my wife.

How long have you been writing poetry?

I started writing poems back in 1983 while working in Brunei. I have recently written a number of love poems for my wife, with two of them in the final four in WildSound Poetry Festivals, with another of my poems that Julian Ford read out online, in the final four.

If you could have dinner with one person (dead or alive), who would that be?

I think due to my love of writing, it would Le Child, whose writing I think is in a class of its own.

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

I think the words in my poem would appeal to many people, especially those who do not know the difference between love and desire. Also, by having my poem read out live, it acts to give more publicity to my writing endeavours.

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

I have written and had published two short fiction books, plus one re my life in Turkey where I have lived for over 25 years, and a memoir entitled Follow in the Tigerman’s Footsteps. This covers my working as an expat for nineteen years in fifteen countries spread throughout the Middle, Far East and North Africa. In conjunction with Voyage Media who think my memoir could be used as the basis for a television series, I have written a pitch, which is on a list that Voyage sends out to over 6,000 producers to see if one is interested in using it.

At present, Julian Ford, one of your readers is working on turning my memoir into an audio book. I am presently writing a novel, and had over 14 articles published in online magazines, and one published in a UK expat magazine. I also took part in a live radio show in America re my writing.

What is your passion in life?

My passion is writing and hoping that one day I might have one of my books used as the basis for a film.

Poetry Reading: THE ALMOST HOLY QUATERNITY by Gloria D Gonsalves

Performed by Amaka Umeh

POETRY 7 questions:

What is the theme of your poem?

Family, Memories

What motivated you to write this poem?

This poem was written in 2016 during NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo. The prompt was to write a poem that takes the form of a family portrait. Your call for a family poem fitted the piece and hence my submission.

How long have you been writing poetry?

About 10 years and I’m still learning every day.

If you could have dinner with one person (dead or alive), who would that be?

Maya Angelou and Shaaban bin Robert.

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

I dislike public performance. So your platform is perfect for me to co-share the skill of writing and performing with someone else.

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

I have published books on fantasy/adventure/educational tales with moral lessons. In the published portfolio is also a novella and anthology of thoughts. For anyone interested to know more, I am giving free books to visitors on my website.

What is your passion in life?

Reading, writing and discovering new places.

Poem: Diaper Bag, by Kimmy Alan

Genre: Life, Family

Diaper malfunction

Unexpected burp-up

Your dress shirt becomes

An emergency handkerchief

Face it bud!

You’re a milk sponge

A human highchair tray

An absorbent nap mattress

How many more reasons are required before you realize diaper bag essentials include an extra shirt?

Inspired by the all too common event.

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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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Poem: Loved Dark and Wasn’t Sad, by Tanvi Sareen

Genre: Abstract, Love

I live in the darkest apartment of the city under the bridge.
This is not a love poem. It does not have hidden meanings.
It has a story of the happiest man I know.
I am certain that I love the color black.
But I do not wear any. I wear brown instead.
I like darkness not on me but outside
To assure that it isn’t curbed anywhere inside.
I cheat myself when I add milk to coffee and
When I shave my head and
When I do not ascertain my groceries at night.
You can touch me from anywhere
I guarantee you my existence
But not my location.
I do not carry maps. Only train passes.
I choose girls wearing black on themselves
To help me with addresses
And get ignored due to juxtapose dressing.
The story is colorless. Less interesting than rainbows.
I have many ‘Once upon a time’ in my head
The tales no one would love in dark.
I sleep till 2 in the morning.
My bag has black and white paints
Black to build and white for corrections.
This hiding place of mine has a bulb
Whose occasional presence is reminded
Only for reading dates on the cans.
I paint signboards for a living.
People provide me colors only then.

How selfish.
My friendships start on an endgame.
I have friends whom I have met only once.
And shall never meet again.
Storms are good until and unless the roof leaks
I find weeds beautiful too.
My family does not know I live almost homeless
All they know is that I am happy.

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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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Poem: JUST A PIECE, by Nittystan

Genre: Life,

My love for poetry hasn’t been a smooth journey, with setbacks on the first mile ,heartbreaks down the bridge, breakups on the high bumps and makeups on the sight of the green light signaling a way forward , but i chose her and swore to never leave. So this time my new poet friend, Jane, wakes me up with a catchy text. “Hey handsome, today is his born day, and i have a lot on my mind can’t come up with something, kindly write me a sweet piece, one with love and affection, just direct it to me and i will edit it, exactly the one you’d write to your boo, I trust you.” So i start writing, that piece that made Lucy mushy, shed tears and say yes to me. Then i sent. While reminiscing on my creativity, it kept me thinking, my mother must have been a boxer, so much punch lines in it. Just then Lucy bumps in from the shop, and grabs my phone to see what’s making me smile. The timing was wrong, because Jane replies with the love emoji mimic saying “.i love you too”. She dropped everything and left, never said a word. Sent me a text message of how i was too dammed to seduce women with one piece. I tried to explain it to her but she said it no longer meant anything, that she was too stupid to have believed me. That it was, just a piece, a piece from a poet, and so we were done. Few weeks later, we would still hangout though, do some catch up, eat some kebab, chicken and fries, just the way she liked it, played some games, hide and seek, peek a boo, go for movies, bicycle rides, play in the rain, and hang out for dinner just like before, just that it was different, we were friends. I knew she missed us, I mean, I did, but she dint trust me. So this time she comes home for dinner. Finds my poetry book and decides to peruse as I prepare something for the stomach. She finds her way to my new piece “silent confession” of how i missed us, how she got it all wrong. How i longed to kiss her during those movie sessions just like before, .how i wished she took time to understand everything, how i wished she realized it and come back, how i still loved her so much and would still take her back, how she meant the whole world to me, how she was still the cutest thing I had ever seen, how i wished she could read it. So she comes straight to me in the kitchen, gives me a deep kiss and says of how she is sorry, that she now understands perfectly what transpired and that she loved me too, that I was still the cutest thing she had ever seen and wanted us back together, that she had read it. I smiled back, gave her a deep kiss and whispered to her right ear, “I wish it was true, but it is, just a piece, a piece from a poet”.@Nittystanpoet

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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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Poem: Loving with an Arrhythmia, by J. NACALABAN

Genre: Love, Romance, Relationship

I have mastered the act of looking calm,
When my brain floods with dopamine,
And the sensors in my head transmit messages
To the other parts of my body, particularly my heart
To beat wildly and fast like an out of control drum
That it hurts so badly, but it will never show in my face.
I am the master of disguise,
That every time you’d look into my eyes, or touch my hand,
Or say my name – I’d look as neutral as I could.
Even though my chest screams in pain
Because, hey, this little acts of affection can make my heart beat faster,
So fast it forgets the rhythm that it should be beating in.
And somewhere inside my head, a loud sigh and an audible
“Here we go again,”
I can’t afford to be overjoyed and so I try not to think too much
On how beautiful you look when you laugh at that not-so-funny joke that I’ve
made,
Or how you tease me when I become childishly stubborn;
I can’t feel too excited, looking at you walk towards me
Because believe it or not, this dysfunctional heart can kill me.
But no matter how I try to suppress,
Fighting back with thoughts of dying,
That every time you lean your head on my shoulder,
Or look into my eyes, or touch my hand,
Or say my name – I’d risk skipping a beat,
If that’s what it takes for me to show how you make me happy.
If that’s what it takes for me to show how I love you.

* * * * *

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:

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