Category: poet

If I Was President, Poetry by Molimau Fatu

This country would actually
Cherish the diversity
It has instead of using it
Like an illusion of unity
Only to earn dollars
Building it not from the bloodshed
Of genocides and chains of slavery
But use the gift of each civilization

Genre: Political, Society, Life

 If I Was President 
by Molimau Fatu
This country would actually 
Cherish the diversity 
It has instead of using it 
Like an illusion of unity 
Only to earn dollars 
Building it not from the bloodshed 
Of genocides and chains of slavery 
But use the gift of each civilization 
To develop the master plan 
Of true unity and love from 
The Most High to not think of 
Greed and actually help out each other 
As life is already difficult 
To treat everyone as human beings 
Regardless of skin color 
Or how much you have 
To have no more homeless 
No more wars 
No more Federal Reserve 
No more FBI 
No more CIA 
No more secret societies planning agendas to kill the people of the world 
No more private prisons 
More schools that actually teach something that we use in real life 
More music that uses words to inspire 
 
 
To guide the youth 
To become more aware 
More consciously and creative 
With joy to live 
Life not enslaved by anything 
But free knowing that 
They won’t have to look over your shoulder 
Yet, visioning a Samoan with his formal ie lavalava on 
With his chocolate thick mocha wife, 
Her dreads all out 
Sundress with big glowing earrings 
And a smile comforting as the sunset 
Usos cooking outside with the rocks 
Making bbq chicken and ribs 
Peeling the skin from the taros 
With the white house no longer being white 
Now in living color 
With melanin and Polynesian blood 
Flowing rhythmically 
With all cultures of the world 
As the women display their beauty 
By that walk of confidence 
Hips moving side to side 
Hair blowing through the breeze 
The aroma so pleasant and strong 
You become mesmerized 
 
 
By the hospitality 
By having a real person as president 
Not some paid puppet 
Of wealthy private bankers 
Then……. 
Damn 
I wake up 
And say 
Only if I were president 
 
 

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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:

 

Wonder Woman – Poetry Reading by Angela Cohan

Watch Wonder Woman Poetry Reading:

 

Performed by Becky Shrimpton

Get to know poet Angela Cohan:

1) What is the theme of your poem?

My poem is titled “Wonder Woman.”

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

I want people to feel empowered after reading and watching my poetry.

3) How long have you been writing poetry?

I have been writing poetry for eleven years.

4) Do you have a favorite poet?

One of my favorite poets is Robert Frost.

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

I had previously submitted my work to WILDsound.

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

I mainly write non-fiction. I have written short stories and articles as well.

7) What is your passion in life?

My passion in life is my creativity.

Disgrace – Poetry Reading by Jasmine Fredericks. Performed by Becky Shrimpton

Watch the Poetry Reading DISGRACE:

Performed by Becky Shrimpton

Get to know poet Jasmine Fredericks:

1) What is the theme of your poem?

Passivity, War and Destruction.

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

To feel that they can do more than just watch television and be passive to the world around them.

3) How long have you been writing poetry?

For about three years

4) Do you have a favorite poet?

Robert Frost

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

I’ve had a good response from my poem and want to share it with others, getting it performed by a professional actor would make it more accessible for people.

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

I’ve written short stories in the past but find poetry easy as it help me to communicate my thoughts and ideas better.

7) What is your passion in life?

Writing, performing, exploring life.
Trying to understand people.

Genius In Me, Poetry by Thato Pricey Ratlotlong

Genre: History, Identity

Genius In Me
by Thato Pricey Ratlotlong

I intend to reach the universe without losing my soul
I’m the Great Grandson of the Forefathers
Like those four sons who were left by their four fathers
I will claim & protect my birth right
From the East to the West, its dawn then comes night

The soil keeps the flash of those before us
We can’t all speak the so called universal language
Its jewel that brightens up our Africa
Before the sun came to pass.
Trust in your native self, and write the next page

We are caged, by our thoughts
We are lost! We can’t see the Genius in Us
Their tombs are engraved the words that fought
Our weakness
The Pyramids sculptured that which is taught
Our inventions
Fallen Kings, still cry for their kingdoms
They never trusted the Genius in Us

Tremor shook, we stood
Unveiling the thoughts we never understood
Encrypt the codes of poverty
Decode the codes of poetry
Revising the education Africa taught
Regain the genius you lost
I Am the Great Grandson of our Forefathers,
Genes of their Nature is with Me,
I Am the fruit birthed by our Godly Mothers
I have their Genius In Me

– Thato Ratlotlong
Twitter: @Priceythato

 

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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:

WORDS, Poetry by Dillen George

Their words cut.
Their words sting.
Their words hit hard,
And all day through my head I can hear them ring.
They bully me for who I am,

Genre: Rhyme, Bully, Society

Their words cut.
Their words sting.
Their words hit hard,
And all day through my head I can hear them ring.
They bully me for who I am,
They torment me for the things I can’t change;
I wish things would be different,
I pray that life will be rearranged.

At school,
The other kids know that I’m gay.
And they belittle me for it,
Day after day.
“Faggot” I hear as I walk through the halls.
“Queer” I see written on bathroom stalls.
“Homo” they shout as they shove me to the floor.
“Fairy” they scream as they slam me into locker doors.
In class notes are passed,
Notes slanderous to me;
The teachers do nothing,
They just pretend not to see.
On the bus I am tripped,
I am never saved a seat;
This is what I’ve endured,
For week after week.

Once I’m home,
Things really don’t change;
My family hasn’t been the same,
Since they’ve known I was gay.
It saddens me to say,
That it comes as no surprise,
When my own parents won’t even look me in the eyes.
My siblings treat me different,
Too young,
And brought up with too much ignorance to see,
That they cannot “catch gay” from me.

I wish I could show them,
I wish they would listen.
But their minds are made up,
The stigmas have them locked in a prison.
Being gay is part of who I am,
And it wasn’t a choice;
It’s as much a part of me,
As my face or my voice.

Now,
I’ve heard people say,
That things get better;
That people change,
And soon we’ll all live happily together.
Well,
If all that’s so true,
Then answer me this;
Why do my boyfriend and I get beaten,
Should in public we kiss?
Why does a government by the people,
Make me feel ashamed;
And take away my marriage rights,
When all I want to take is a last name?
And finally tell me,
Who are you to decide,
Whether or not I can sit in the hospital,
And hold my partner’s hand while he dies.

Don’t judge,
Don’t bully;
This is what we’ve all heard.
But actions,
They speak louder than words.
We’re told these things,
But they’re never enforced;
Maybe if they were,
My life wouldn’t feel so cursed;
Maybe I wouldn’t feel as though my tormentors were right,
Maybe I wouldn’t have to wait for day,
In a seemingly eternal night.
Yes,
Things could be done,
But seldom they are;
People often talk of extending a helping hand,
But they never go as far.

Oh well,
I’ve said about all I can say.
It’s not like anyone cares,
Or would listen anyways.
If you’re reading this now,
Know that one thing is right;
I’ve been beaten so much,
That I’ve lost the will to fight.
I’ve gone upstairs,
Locked the bathroom door;
I still hear hateful words,
Making my conscious sore.
I drew a warm water bath,
Took a deep breath and took out a knife;
Rather than take more torment,
I’ve taken my life.

 

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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:

Easter Monday, Poetry by Mary E. Latela

I wore my new pink coat, silk, princess-style,

lined with satin and crinoline, to school.

Fifth grader, I pretended my brother,

who also walked, was a stranger,

Genre: Growing Pains

Easter Monday
by Mary E. Latela @LatelaMary

I wore my new pink coat, silk, princess-style,

lined with satin and crinoline, to school.

Fifth grader, I pretended my brother,

who also walked, was a stranger,

And he pretended not to know me either.
 
 

From the left, a mighty little neighbor boy

rushed out like a little rebellious skunk

and he pulled on my coat,

tore the crinoline, pulled on the hem, delicately stitched.

Kids gathered, some laughing, and I assumed they were mocking me.

Finally, the mother came out and shouted,

“Harold! Come in now! Don’t you bother that girl!”

He slumped away. My brother said nothing.

Just as I could feel my breath again, relieved that the assault was over,

I walked into school and my teacher saw me,

asked me what happened …. the only word I could utter was “boy.”

Nosy Peggy filled in the details.

Teacher folded the coat carefully, slid it into a paper bag for safekeeping,

until my mother could use her magic touch to repair the coat,

Stitch by stitch.

I never felt safe again.

 

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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:

My Derision, Poetry by Kira Rice

My heart yearns for beauty yet I look in ruins,

my soul thirsts yet I search in barren lands,

Genre: fear, hurt, life, painful, personality, religion, inspirational and sad

My Derision
by Kira Rice

“My heart yearns for beauty yet I look in ruins,

my soul thirsts yet I search in barren lands,

my eyes long for truth yet I seek human hands,

my being hungers after fullness yet I worship emptiness.”

 

 

 

 

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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:

The Master, Poetry by Pete Stones

‘Come up upon the wind’
roared the Master to the sails,
‘hard-a-port, aye aye sir’
echoed down the rails

Genre: Fantasy, History

The Master
by Pete Stones

‘Come up upon the wind’
roared the Master to the sails,
‘hard-a-port, aye aye sir’
echoed down the rails

the prow in tumult groaned,
tacking wildly was her shape,
his lonesome figure smirked to see
the shallows of the Cape.

Gripping to the mainmast
while the ship pitched and yawed,
‘I’ll see thee soon my friends’,
the Master madly cawed.

Wraiths upon the weather deck,
tempests in his soul,
guilt sweeping off into the sea
to be buried in the shoals.

She opened up a seam,
but the water remained at bay
ghosts like oakum stayed the wrath
as the ship did naught but sway.

While his lips did quiver in solemn prayer
to his knees the Master fell,
‘Please release from me this earthly keel,
all city, sea, and dell’

Waves arose like the fingers of God,
and by an act of grace
the Master washed away,
a smile upon his face.

 

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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:

A Terrifying Night, Poetry by Aditya Agrawal

And as I just said that, a fresh cold terror gripped me.

I was not in the home, but inside my college dormitory

And if my terrors and horrors were not too enough,

I heard the dormitory door creak slowly open.

Genre: Fear

A Terrifying Night
by Aditya Agrawal

I was lying on the bed when the door creaked open.

In the middle of the night, who could be I thought.

As it opened wider, a blanket of horror engulfed me.

Saw a monster, in all its furious anger, rush towards me.

As I now started to react, it swiftly pinned me down.

Its fangs and claws raised, waiting to strike with a frown.

I woke up with a scream, realizing it was just a dream.

“What happened honey?” heard my mom’s voice ask me.

“Nothing, mom!” the words slipped out of my shaky lips.

And as I just said that, a fresh cold terror gripped me.

I was not in the home, but inside my college dormitory

And if my terrors and horrors were not too enough,

I heard the dormitory door creak slowly open.

 

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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:

The last human to have lived, Poetry by Mudeet Arora

Eyes showing a moonlit night,
Under the shadows of insanity,
He and his conscience got into a fight,
He had nothing to lose, nothing to pity,
After all, he has no one in his sight,
The world had lost everything,
Everything that seemed pretty.

Genre: Forced Motivation

The last human to have lived
by Mudeet Arora

Eyes showing a moonlit night,
Under the shadows of insanity,
He and his conscience got into a fight,
He had nothing to lose, nothing to pity,
After all, he has no one in his sight,
The world had lost everything,
Everything that seemed pretty.

He saw the world pass by,
In front of his closed eyes
Nothing he could do but try,
Try and try till he himself dies.

He had the world at his feet,
Many of you would take it
But he, he lived the life of a lover,
He could only express and could never fake it.

He cursed himself
He hit himself
All of the world seemed of no value to him,
He tried to kill himself
But his hands trembled like an adolescent’s first swim.

All he needed was to see a face
But this wasn’t a clue,
This wasn’t a game
All that was beloved,
There was no trace.

He sat in his final night,
He saw death dancing by all horizons,
His eyes lit up at the sight of death,
It was the first feeling he had for eons.

Death gently sat beside him
Intending to have a conversation
“Finally you’re here”, he said with a grin,
As his body felt cold…
When death made its embrace,
He remembered all the good he did,
Looking into death’s eyes,
Not for a moment his conscience slipped.

His smile cast a storm,
In that moment, he asked death…
This is all of what his last words could give…
“How does it feel to take away
The last human to have lived?”

 

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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: