Category: poet

Read Poem: TO BELIEVE by Gary Bertnick

To always believe
Though surrounded in an atmosphere of doubt,
Truth always more powerful
And gripping the heart with Divine strength,
The mind battles for pure and clean honest thoughts
While the winds of deceit and perversion move constantly about,
Sometimes in a roar
Sometimes in a whisper
The war on the mind rages forth!
Holy Words always a much sharper sword
Common thoughts in daily languages fall to the ground
As Scripture quoted and meditated upon surges steadfastly forward
From the very beginning the “Evil One” was crushed beneath the omnipotent heal,
Prophetic Words long ago fulfilled!
Authority of the Name above all written on our foreheads
More than tablets, inscribed on our hearts;
Inner knowledge has already surpassed simple belief
As faith in Messiah’s power grows and matures in deepening Peace
Love reaches out with broader, longer touches in tenderness
Caring as our Shepherd, rich kindness and gentleness flow,
Wisdom rises within, wings of brilliance
As we begin to see as He sees;
Belief in Yeshua as an early seed
Has already grown more than expected,
More than even prayed for!

https://garybertnick.wordpress.com

Read Poem: BRANDS MAKE THE MAN by Kunal Thakore

BRANDS MAKE THE MAN

Came into a cool couple of million through a Nigerian scam
Thought I’d go splurge to better who I am

Clothes maketh the man, so with a craving for all things luxe
What better way to spend a few easy bucks

Donning these fancy labels and tags
They’d add way more style to my swag

I’d get a designer closet, oh so bling
Swish stuff that’d make my heart sing

Anything to look better than I currently do
And perhaps feature on the cover of the next GQ

So off I flew first class to Paris, Milan, New York and Dubai
London, Tokyo, Hong Kong and then back to Mumbai

First on the list was a cravat from Prada
So what if I don’t wear slick jackets, I just hadda

Next, a little something from Gucci
It promised to make me forever sans souci

A tote from that Italian fella Ferragamo
To show off to all my still-poor amigos

Belts, buckles and trunks from LV
Ha! Let them be the cause of my friends’ envy

Then a boat-load of stuff from Bvlgari
My bags were so heavy, the concierge had to carry

Some scarves and fragrances from the house of Hermes
Baubles for the mistress and of course, my missus

A quick pop in across the aisle to Tiffany’s
Five or six trinkets… is that too many?

Some bold printed silk shirts from Versace
From downright tacky to take me straight to classy

Jimmy Choo’s shoes and also a little something
Just so he doesn’t feel left out, from Christian Louboutin

Tuxes and shirts from Boss, Burberry and Brioni
For trousers, Tom Ford, Canali, YSL and Armani

Bespoke suits from those chaps on Saville Row
I tell you, the outfitting was such a bore

Next, a chunky Rolex or a Patek Phillipe
To add to the wrist, yup, they’ll do the trick

I threw in a couple of things from Dolce & Gabbana
Didn’t much care for them, but I just wanna

Bottega Veneta, Valentino and Givenchy
Flashy boutiques, exclusive and so very chi chi

Chanel, Fendi, Dior, Carolina Hererra, Nina Ricci
Umm, naah… oh, okay, may as well (sorry if I’m bitchy!)

Ties, cuff links, socks, hats, shades, accessories… check
And a box of Havanas just for style, what the heck

Bally and Miu Miu beseechingly called me back
Could they interest me in something and have it packed?

And before I forgot, I dashed across to Zegna
You just can’t miss out on a good thing, can ya?

Finally, since I still had some change left over
I ordered a Bentley, just to see the jealous guys glower

Look at me, people! Looking nouveau riche spiffy
Yeah, I know the losers will call it kitschy

Now that leaves me with just enough for branded underwear
Any suggestions on what and from where?

PS – And when it’s time for the next set of swanky clothes
I might need to break the bank at one of those Vegas casinos

Picture credit, Google – from the Bollywood movie ‘Hindi Medium’; a particular scene in which a loaded country bumpkin with no taste or class, ODs on high fashion brands to make a statement

Read Poetry: I am the one by short-prose-fiction

Performed by Elizabeth Rose Morriss

*****

Producer: Matthew Toffolo http://www.matthewtoffolo.com

Director: Kierston Drier

Casting Director: Sean Ballantyne

Editor: Kimberly Villarruel

Camera Op: Mary Cox

Read Poetry by Mira Wallflower

With ripped heart
and broken soul,
she survived.
With confusion in head,
a shake of hands
and long road ahead,
she was bright.
In the rush of the blood,
in the scars that were about to bud,
she was alright.
From the darkest hole
from the deepest shore,
she faced life.
For the light in her eyes,
for the hope that arise
she was an art.
The mountains she climbed,
the rivers she crossed,
it was the time.
As a bird in the sky
she opened her arms,
she found the way,
she fled away.

@Whenmypenbleeds
https://mirawallflowerblog.wordpress.com/

Read Poem: FORWARD by Gladys Muturi

Forward
Time to move forward
I got to move forward
No time to change the past
Looking back is the thing in the past
Chapter ending
No open wounds
Closed tight with a thousand stitches
Scar is healing
Vanquished from my soul
Endeavor to stay
Never be the same
Forward
That’s where I’m going
My head facing the horizon
A vision to the future
I see the bright, yellow sun rising above the heavenly blue sky
The light from the sun shines from the high echo mountains, pushing the dark shadows to make a clear arrival
It’s my time to shine!
Here I run faster
Heading forward
to the sun, to the skies and to the mountains I go
waiting for me to start a new journey
I cried a thousand tears looking back in the past
Wondering how I made it last
Now I face the truths and realities
Laugh off from the bad memories
Shake off the fear that deepens my skin
Grin even if the day is unpleasant
I will move forward
Befriend with loyal individuals
Walking with pride and dignity
Meet someone new
Fall in love with each other
Live together in our happy ending
Produce our population
Together in our own kingdom
Replace individual “I” to an assembly of “we”
We are moving forward together

Genre: Moving On

Read Poetry: JUNE 26, 2015 by Felice Picano

Had he lived
would we be celebrating
our momentous today
or simply let it go
having had it, lived it
for ourselves so long?
Not ever requiring
The officious,
official authentication.

Would the sidewalk
revelers we do not stop
to embellish, recall
that evening’s evening star
kiss a crescent moon
and splashily silver the plaza?:
the Chilean pianist’s final,
near-silent, pianissimo —
in c minor: astonished
to hear our wild applause
–so deep in meditation?

Had he lived
would palm and frond and fern and cedar
be spiny pine and elder alder
rimed icy tight?
And night’s aromas not be
soft Hollywood honeysuckle
but copper nasal hot
as sunsets on the Hudson
still stupefy and hurt?

Had he lived
would his photo’s face be replaced
by one that’s less familiar?
like that infrequent, five a.m.
r.e.m image
that makes me wake up in wonder
and feel blessed all day long?
No mirage — I swear —
but across that Wild Divide,
a kind of true communication . . .

Had he lived?

© 2018, Felice Picano
.

Read Poem: Viola’s Rebellion by Sam Allen

Her face is white as porcelain

Her lips are thin and red

And as the concertina plays

He tilts her fragile head

The voice that he embodies

Has a churlish, silly sound

He helps her do a courtesy

And then makes her spin around

Her floral dress, conservative

Her frilly blouse too tight

Those fallen locks have lost their shine

But who is she to fight?

She’s at the mercy of his hands

She doesn’t have control

The only life she’s ever known

Is as a passive doll

She’s tired of the girlishness

The way he moves her hands

She hates the curtseys and the nods

The way he makes her stand

And suddenly as if possessed

Viola takes her reins

Decides to pull on her own strings

And breaks free from her chains

She smiles a smile so devilish

It almost cracks her cheeks

Does a crazy, happy dance

And turns to him to speak

She tells him with authority

That it’s time for a change

She’s had enough of mannerisms

Feeling so restrained

Viola takes a flying leap

And breaks her string of pearls

Shouts that she’s a woman now

And not some helpless girl

She tears her frilly blouse apart

Her hair is like a horse

Cascading down her ivory skin

With such unbridled force

Her pearls are swirling round the sky

That floral skirt is ripped

She steps into her own domain

And swings her sensual hips

She turns to the ventriloquist

Who stands their quite agast

Thanks him for the life she’s had

But adds, “It couldn’t last..

Inside each doll there is a soul

That longs for more than pity,

We women want to be ourselves

It’s boring playing pretty”

Viola so vivaciously

Vibrates with violet power

She’s waited all her life for this

It is her finest hour

She spins him once and twice around

And takes her fallen laces

Ties his hands and feet with them

She laughs as her heart races

Viola’s purple passion pumps

Right through her female brain

“Cause even dolls rebel you know,

And now I hold the reigns”

Read Poem: The Beholder by Darienne K. E. Jordan

We are taught that

Beauty is in the

Eye of the Beholder

We always assume

This means eyes

Outside of our own

Someone not us

Is supposed to approve

Using some arbitrary standard

We seek validation

From every passerby

And shrink into ourselves

When we aren’t deemed worthy

Beauty is in the eye

Of the Beholder

But wouldn’t it be

The loveliest thing

If the only Beholder

We cared about

Was ourselves

What if the only

Standard we had to reach

Was our own

Would we finally

Understand self-love

And honor our unique beauty?

What a wild thought.

Read Poem: An Adult Fable for the Modern Day by Cindi Walton

Way up high on the seventeenth floor lived a selfish young princess dressed in Dior.

“My nail is chipped and my hair is a mess.” Where is that maid, I need to get dressed!”

“Bring me my dog, now take him to pee. Run me a bath and bring me my tea!”

She clamored and bellowed, bullied and such that her maid up and quit, she’d had just too much.

Now alone and frightened on the seventeenth floor, there came a knock on the Princess’s door.

Not sure what to do without hired help, the knocking kept knocking, her little dog yelped.

Knocking and yelping the neighbors could hear, so they called the cops and one was quite near.

“I think she’s in danger, I think she is dead,” “I really don’t care” one neighbor said.

So the cop took the stairs to the seventeenth floor, stopping in front of the Princess’s door.

And there in plain sight was the Princess’s maid, knocking because she forgot to get paid.

“Why did you quit? What did she do?” asked the cop of the maid who was stomping her shoe.

“She’s a witch and a tyrant, a bully that’s why…she never says thank you, I really do try.”

“I come when she beckons which often than not. Wash all her undies and hankies with snot.”

“I am a person and she treats me so bad, I’ve just had enough and I really got mad.”

“I see, said the cop as he saw the door crack. She treated you badly so you’re not coming back.”

“Aye, a please and a thank you never received, I totally get it, your thoroughly peeved.”

Now a light went on in the Princess’s head, nobody liked her, some wanted her dead.

Was she a bully as the maid had proclaimed? “Oh my, I am selfish and totally ashamed!”

So she opened the door and let the cop in, offered him tea, admitted her sins.

The maid got a raise and a miracle you see, she even took the dog out to pee.

She cleaned up her act and acquired some class, became a lady and not a spoiled ass

So the moral is as morals go, be ye a princess or be ye a maid, the fact of the matter you never can trade

For kindness and class goes hand in hand, spreading good will throughout the whole land.