Category: Poetry Festival

Read Poem: Earthblood, by Amina Drury

Beyond the horizon I hear you pleading

Shouting, biting, scratching, breathing

And in the smog, your breath is wet

Wet and long and harsh and spent

In the sky your eyes shine bright

A billion vicious specs of light

In the earth you shudder

Your spine sticks up from deep down under

From sand I watched the sun as it bled

You tuck the sea around the earth to bed

You’re the lion’s teeth

The gazelle’s meat

And the blood that puddles under feet

I hear your sulky wines and groans

And your sultry breathy moans

In every writhing infant cry

I hear you born

I hear you die

Read Sonnet: Behold, the artistry of Mother Nature, by Rishabh Parmar

Behold, the artistry of Mother Nature
Flawless and seraphic
Little-bitty birds tweeting on the soggy branches
’tis mother Earth, not mine or not thine

Behold, the puissant rain
’tis shower time of the Earth
Clouds art blazing like king of the beasts
Taking stunning snapshots from the loftier berth

Behold, the children
Blissful creatures of the sturdy world
bring joyousness to the old man’s heart
who is waiting for his fortune, to be unrolled

Behold, ’tis thine future
that has to be nurture.

Read Poem: A THOUGHT TO EXPERIENCE, by Andre Ariel

I always wondered
I always questioned
but I was never happy

always wondering
but never happy

a hungry voice
inside of me
but never happy

always still
forever wonder
and I wonder still
to be happy

why did my mind
work this way

I forced myself to think some more
of why it thought so strange
because, I wasn’t happy

and i’ve spent my days
forever wondering

Now time has passed
and I learned that to be
happy
I had to choose

Now I spend my days smiling
with a crowd wondering
“Why he’s happy?”

“We know he’s afraid”,
I hear them say.
“Yes, but not of being happy.”

I let them wonder.
I let them think
always questioning
always wondering
never happy

Poetry Reading: The Girl on the Bus, by Ed Teja

Performed by Katelyn Varadi

Get to know the poet:

1) What is the theme of your poem?

We never know exactly what is going on in life. It’s complex and confusing and its real beauty is often bittersweet.

2) What motivated you to write this poem?

A girl I saw on a bus in Hong Kong while thinking about the difficulties of connecting with people.

3) How long have you been writing poetry?

Over fifty years.

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

Henry Miller.

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

I like hearing poetry read well. Hearing someone else read it will let me think about it differently.

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

I write novels and short stories.

7) What is your passion in life?

To live it fully.

Poetry Reading: Curse Coffee Cups, by Andrew Green

Performed by Katelyn Varadi

Get to know the poet:

1) What is the theme of your poem?

Curse Coffee Cups is a patchwork of memorable lines of poetry that run through my head.

2) What motivated you to write this poem?

It expresses frustration at trying to come up with something original with a head stuffed with other poets’ work.

3) How long have you been writing poetry?

I was a (very) occasional poet until two years ago when I began to publish regularly on Wattpad. I have been blogging on my own site literally a couple of months.

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

That’s difficult but I’m a huge admirer of Wendy Cope’s work and would love to meet her.

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

Rhythm and the sound of words is critical to the way I write. My poetry is written to be read out loud though I seldom get the opportunity.

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

I occasionally write non fiction but poetry is my preference. My first, self published book, Margaret’s Story, was a little out of the ordinary though – a biography of my mother in verse.

7) What is your passion in life?

I have many and varied passions; my wife, children and grandchildren, writing, running (though I’m in my sixties and a bit slower than I once was), growing fruit and veg for the table, travel, we particularly love India, and Harlequins Rugby Club.

Poetry Reading: Cracks In The Sidewalks, by Irene Leland

Performed by Katelyn Varadi

Get to know the poet:

1) What is the theme of your poem?

A melancholy and symbolic laurel portraying the analogy of a relationship that will be crumbling with the cracks in the sidewalk and diminishing with the flattening of the hill.

2) What motivated you to write this poem?

Unlike personal motivation for much of my lyrics, this creatively came to me, and I was drawn by its double meaning, as a way to bring a meaningful impact.

3) How long have you been writing poetry?

I’ve been writing poetry since I was in grade school…for sixty years.

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

That person would be Joni Mitchell, as her lyrics and music always inspired me.

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

I’m an actor and a voiceover artist, and I knew that having my work vocally performed in a professional presentation would give it a special asset.

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

Yes! I’m an author of two biographies, two children’s books, several short stories and articles, a film treatment and script, many poems and award winning songs.

7) What is your passion in life?

My passion in life is to live to the fullest, exploring and fulfilling my dreams and tapping into and sharing my God given gifts of writing and composing! My natural living and creative expression has given me tremendous fulfillment in dealing with the celebrations and the hardships in life. 

Tuck Me In, A poem by Ruthie B

Your voice is like a cradle
It rocks me to sleep
When I’m not able
To shut it all down

On a porch swing made of song
You sing and strum
I hum along
And try to shut it all down

I tune in
When I want to tune out
All the noise that’s coming through

It’s all so damn romantic
Music is my blanket
What’s a girl to do?

With your notes
You weave a hammock
Rhythm, Tempo
Verse, Dynamics

Take me to the Bridge
There’s that sensation
Intro, Outro
False Relation

I don’t know about
Chord progression
Or keys or hooks
Refrains, compression

But here’s the thing…
When you sing…

Sigh…

It’s all so damn romantic
Music is my blanket
It tucks me in

Read Poem: Listen, by Symonera (Okwemba Simon)

You are not the only one.

 

When the sky is clear blue
Your own trumpet you blow
Yet the truth you know
Listen,
Your luck away you throw.

 

When I chose to be cool
You made me your fool
Assuming that I’m one to rule
Listen,
I’m not one to rule.

 

With my people I fought slavery
Hopeful and with bravery
Away from my granary I dismissed you
Listen,
I have no diplomatic hypocrisy.

 

My kindness gave you strength
As you spent your life in a grabbed land
While you pushed me to the tents
Listen,
I’m human, I’ll never forget.

Read Poem: The Things I Learned as a Bartender, by Tricia McCallum

There is no such thing as the perfect martini.

Jazz musicians make lousy tippers.

A couple can walk in fighting and after two shots of tequila

hold each other for dear life on the dance floor

like they did in high school.

A woman doesn’t notice her date’s drink order

as much as how he treats the waitress.

No matter how cool the pickup line

women want kind.

Even with nothing to gain

people can be small and mean.

A table of plastic surgeons

can be more obnoxious, abusive than

a convention of professional wrestlers.

The plain girl alone at the end of the bar

has an achingly beautiful story

no one will hear.

The busboy with the bad skin.

His will also go untold.

Some people cannot be reached.

The hulking cab driver

who climbed the back stairs for his double cheeseburger

every night at 8:30, month after month,

stayed mute, no eye contact. He’d pay with a twenty

and wave away the change.

Leave without a word.

From him I learned

it’s impossible to imagine

all the damage done.

Read Poetry: CANDLE IN THE WIND, by Bhavini Vijayanathan

Beginning of the end began,

Despairs soared high

Darkness took swift command.

Running where my legs took,

The only sound was the music of my heart

It was harmonic cacophony to my oblivious ear,

But humming now was ridiculous

And I snapped at my heart.

Arrows flew in my path,

Bullets mocked my speed.

A scream pierced the infinity

Though I was too confident to believe it was mine.

My lungs were out of air,

But my heart still humming;

Falling into the deepest pit,

I knew my life was over.

But the end had just began.

I tried to embrace death,

But he ignored me.

‘The candle is burning’, he said with a scoff.

Zillion pains charged,

And adrenaline rushed over my blood.

My heart was humming.

Too tired, I began listening,

‘The candle’, it said. ‘The candle’.

‘Where?’ I asked

My heart hummed again.

This time though, weaker

I called out from the chasm,

I repeated, ‘Where?’

But everything was silent.

‘Hold on’, someone told me,

A cold raspy voice.

 

I opened my eyes in Heaven,

And never had I imagined, 

Heaven to be dark.

I was lost again.

I was miserably broken.

I placed a hand over my heart

And asked, ‘Why?!’

‘The candle’, my heart hummed. ‘Follow the candle’.

I looked around,

And the candle was a long way to reach.

The place shook, and the world broke.

‘Run to the candle’, said my heart, ‘Run in the wind’.

Wings burst out of me

As my heart enclosed me.

I was flying over the infinity;

I was flying over the darkness.

I grasped my heart stronger,

And I reached the candle.

I took it…

…and the light dimmed.

 

‘Why?’ I wailed. ‘Why?!’

‘The candle in the wind’, my heart hummed,

‘The wind blows the candle;

The light is gone-but not the candle.

Be the candle in the wind;

Face the wind and hold on’.

My heart held me stronger.

Smiling, I grasped it

And cupped my hands over the light;

Ready to be the candle in the wind.