Category: Poetry Festival

Read Poem: TWO WAY, by Maria Juliet

I love the humbleness but I draw the line of boundary.
The darkness completely folded;
He does not know there was a limit inside the box.
I love the sincerity but I let some words often missing.
Outside the window, the music is too loud.
He does not know, only the shadow can bring the numbness.
I love the smile but I give back blank stares —- mostly.
Inside the room full of gold mixed of copy.
He does not know eyes are the genuine smile…
I love sacrifice but I am too poor to buy time.
Back at the car, the dogs fighting for one raw bone
while in four meters away the stray cat enjoying his food alone.
He does not know, inside the grocery store few are only worth it for pancake dream.
I, love being alone.
Beyond the horizon,
Walking, dreaming, screaming, reaching and receiving ——– these.
He doesn’t need to know…

Read Poem: NIBBLES, by Sebastian Hales

Come down to the bridge at midnight, when the tide is full and the lights of Waikawa shatter the water into crystal shards and the only sounds are the swishing and slapping of ripples against the wooden piles of the bridge and the deep black murmuring of the distant sea hidden behind the sleeping covens of sand dunes.

Stand naked on the pebbled bank, sensing but not seeing the whiteness of your body exposed to a thousand pointing fingers, the ghosts of the trees and the sharp menace of the gentle breeze.

Slip tentatively down the slope into the caressing night clothes of the water’s comfort.

The lights of the shore are a painted backdrop left behind from another play.

Below the rippled blanket all is dark.
Only your head lifting from its twinkling pillow.
Only your wet hair like seaweed on your face.
Only your feet, braced against the water’s sway.

Then you feel,
nibbling your shoulders and back,
nibbling neck and arms,
nibbling breast and buttock,
nibbling away the bridge,
the lights,
the coldness of the air,
the worries of the day,
the now and then,
the struggles and despair,
the nibbling,
nibbling massage
of shoals of tiny
fishes.

Read Poem: Where the Tears Go, by J Hirtle

Ten thousand days

Bounteous moments forever faded

Since he first enlightened this lyricist

Guiding my vestal quill.

Through undiscovered lands

With the poise of Gandalf

Proffering measured response to arouse one more query.

The old man stands bent at the waist

The autumn of his life declared by the deep lines upon his face.

His hands unable to conceal a never-ending tremble.

To my youth-filled gaze, he has always seemed ancient

Silver hair with amber tips

Bespectacled eyes behind thick glass

A wooden cane forever choked by his knotted grip.

The morning sun greets our kinship

As I guide him to our old park bench

Quietly we share the new dawn.

I speak first

As oft I do,

Nay, as I always have

I pose my question,

“Where do the tears go when they depart my eyes?”

I undertake more-

“Overpowered by emotions

I cannot disguise

The liquid crystal falls

Trampling shadow trails

Beneath my eyes

So, tell me dear sir,

Where do tears go when they depart my eyes?”

Without a word, his gaze tells all

A glimpse of sadness breaking upon his face

For he knows the reason of my query-

The Healer’s words promised no hope

The cancerous centaur

Mocking their toxic elixir

Spreads venomous tentacles throughout my body

Tendering deadly kisses.

It seems my time here, is nearing the end.

My old friend speaks his reply with an ancient whisper

His slithering smile slowly revealed

He speaks as a teacher

A prophet

A friend

“A Cimmerian Shadow

Impossible to flee

Belongs to the Darkness we dare not see.

Listen closely faithful child-

Your wandering tears are not forsaken

For you my young friend

Cradled in Faith-

A promise of Truth

A vow of Hope

Older than time

Born on the Eve of the Beginning

Destined to awaken.

You have nothing to fear

Soon you will stand in a place prepared for you

There you will see His glorious truth-

Tears never die or fade away

They turn to mist

To be used another day”

“A fathomable grace-

He commands every tear that dares to fall

Stretching out His hand

He gently wipes them all.

Forever erasing our sorrow”.

“That my young friend

Is where the tears go”

Read Poem: Creamy Sky, by Elaine Alibrandi

warm
for winter,
like the
November
I was
sent to
that place—
hermetically
sealed—
bad food—
shrinks
that never
listened.
The staff
openly
watched us
and took
notes while
the TV
blared.
After about
five days,
it seemed
almost
normal.
One patient
had stayed
there seventeen
times,
Another
always had
my back,
The gentle
ex-Marine
with bandages
on his wrists
understood why,
The large,
bedraggled
grandmother
pressed my
face to her
breasts as she
cried.
The
bewildered—
the
irretrievable—
too
vulnerable
for shame.
It felt
a crime
to finally
exit
through
those doors—
always
locked,
forbidding
approach.
After a
week of
breathing
stagnant
air, I rode
shotgun
in the car
toward
a home
no longer
mine,
letting
the wind
toss my
hair.
The
hospital
band still
encircled
my wrist—
the name
on it had
disappeared.
With
scissors
I’d stolen
from the
place,
I cut
it off,
held it
tightly
outside the
window,
and,
hesitating,
trying to
decide,
released
my grip
and let
it fly.

Read Poem: Before It’s Too Late, by John T Leonard

Would any good come of it if I wasn’t here?

If fate has its way, my end could be near.

In this moment of confusion it’s so hard to make sense,

I can’t fathom out what is future or past tense.

The mistakes of the past are vivid in my mind,

I am so lost right now I may as well be blind.

Who would benefit if tomorrow I was gone?

Would anyone rejoice if I had seen my last dawn?

I know there will be those who would weep for a while,

My little girl would now walk herself down the aisle.

No father son camp for my young lad and me,

Next to his uncle round the camp fire he’d be.

I’d miss out on so many things I could’ve looked forward to,

Lost forever in a moment of despair, when this seems the right thing to do.

Aside from the fact of everything I’d now miss,

How selfish am I to put those I love through all this.

What if my thinking is incredibly wrong,

I must know before something irreversible is done.

I’m not going to allow my final curtain to come down or the fat lady to sing,

Having thought about it, no good will it achieve, let’s see what tomorrow will bring….

and

The Darkest Cloud

Dark clouds are forming overhead, a black dog is scratching at my door.

“You’ll get over it” they say, I’m not sure I can take much more.

At every turn is a new challenge,

So much chipping away at me, causing fresh damage.

Friends ask you to promise them that you’re ok.

To appease them, it’s just words you feel you must say.

Guilt is only one of the emotions that you feel,

Remorse, regret, anger, even stupidity, feels irrational yet seems all too real.

You feel so upset your voice can’t even form words.

Others look upon you as if you’re being absurd.

But no one can tell you how you should be.

They’ve not been you, they don’t know what you’ve seen.

So go on and suffer in your own time,

And just have faith that in the long run you’ll be just fine.

Read Poem: SEMANTICS, by Mary Lynn Archibald

I think of you as porcelain, he says—
All elegant and white.
Oh yes, I see, she says—
Brittle, cold and tight.

He sees her as a wonder of survival,
Precious, dear.
She sees herself as isolate,
And him, too near.

Although they’ve fooled around, it seems
They’ve yet to really touch.
I love you, she says, rhetorically—
And he says nothing much.

—Mary Lynn Archibald ©2019

Read Poem: LOVE THAT LOVE, by Leah Gitome

Birthed from love
Groomed from love
Love escalates all human expressions
Every ounce portrays love in the stance of self loving
Love has no boundaries
Love forgives
Love gives birth to divinity
From the very roots
Love goes beyond the visible
Obscured identified confliction
Love ignites the flame that warms the soul
It strengthens a grown heart,mind and soul
Love make the weak men strong
It make the strong men weak
We are remembered from what we love
Never what we dislike
Time become eternal
Always
Always
When love surrounds it all.

Read the TOP POEMS from MARCH 2019

Read Poem: ANIMA VESTRA, by Venus James
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/22/read-poem-anima-vestra-by-venus-james/

Read Poem: Tell Me, by Tommy Tutalo
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/22/read-poem-tell-me-by-tommy-tutalo/

Read Poem: X-RAY, by Tatev Chakhian
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/22/read-poem-x-ray-by-tatev-chakhian/

Read Poetry: I am me, he is me, by P.T. Saunders
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/22/read-poetry-i-am-me-he-is-me-by-p-t-saunders/

Read Poem: The Decision ft. Caesar D. &RAE B. , by Laye Da Writer
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/12/read-poem-the-decision-ft-caesar-d-rae-b-by-laye-da-writer/

Read Poem: TRIPWIRE, by VEDIKA GARODIA
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/11/read-poem-tripwire-by-vedika-garodia/

Read Poem: BOOTS, by Stephon Void
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/05/read-poem-boots-by-stephon-void/

Read Poem: Silence of the Lambs, by Douglas Brayton II
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/05/read-poem-silence-of-the-lambs-by-douglas-brayton-ii/

Read Poem: The Morning After pt.1, by Laye The Writer
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/05/read-poem-the-morning-after-pt-1-by-laye-the-writer/

Read Poem: TO A WOMAN BARING ARMS, by Victoria Ryan-Bailey
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/04/read-poem-to-a-woman-baring-arms-by-victoria-ryan-bailey/

Read Poem: Halab (Aleppo), by Kashmir Maryam
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/04/read-poem-halab-aleppo-by-kashmir-maryam/

Read Poem: MARKERS IN A ROW, by Anita Marie Mondragon
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/04/read-poem-markers-in-a-row-by-anita-marie-mondragon/

Read Poem: ANIMA VESTRA, by Venus James

Spoke to a Baphomet
Down by the willow
He was watching the moon bathe in that same river
That dissolved everything in its way

He whispered:’ This is your version of Aegri somnia’

I tell him that this is not a bad dream and that
I really am shattered in thousands of pieces
And that
I came to lay my burden down

So, he offers a rope and I suddenly see a brighter season

He plays me dirty, one for the shepherd none for the sheep

I asked for my own Beatrice back

she burns in a pit
9th circle – still have her knife in my back
And only then he tells me the rules-the waiting game begins only when the lights go out

But
I
Can’t
See
In
The
Dark

Game over.