Category: Poetry Festival

Read Poetry: Families are the treasures of heaven, by G.B. Smith

Like the warmth of a mid summer’s night,
I have your love for comfort

Shades of lavender arise from the end
of the day as the sun sets over our world

Our world is one where many hearts
can go in safety and feel protected

Your heart is in pain right now because
of the sad news we got about your sister

Come into the safety of my arms and let
my love be your guardian for tonight

Our world is a complicated one
and without the help from each
other it could die

we are here for each other
that’s what families do

With the passing of the night
comes the new dawn of promise
It is ours to treasure eternally

Your love and tenderness are your
angel wings of love and promise

Remembering always
that families are the
treasures of heaven

Sigh

Read Poetry: TREES, by Anwar Jaber

1- The Silent Tree

These birds love the silent tree and like to perch on that bough. You know; the love is unexplained thing but we know it very well. From that lovely bough, the leaves and feathers had fallen with a quarrelsome smile. This was a heavy thing for that tired tree which is filled with sad stories. She always descends to clean the ground from the frivolous feathers. Her slim fingers drown butterflies and her broken heart chants absent songs. I saw her kissing water like my voice which I had forgotten at my postponed beginning.

 

2- Missing trees

I am a wild man knows the animals’ sounds but not pure like them. The bears are neither rough nor brown and the owl is sliver and sees the truth. At that glory, I was smiling in the morning and for many times I was sitting at a lake I didn’t remember its name. Now I am rootless; my small hut had lost its threads and my mantle had colored with forgetfulness. This sharp city had slapped my cheeks mercilessly and immersed oblivion in my memory. I have been crying bitterly since that time where I had saw her. I am crying for my precious trees. I had forgotten my color and my voice. Now I am very sad and colorless and never remember the smiles of my missing trees. 

 

 

3- A Yellow Tree

I am a yellow tree with cold whispers. As a thirsty spike, I am waiting crippled dreams. My streets had been stolen and my brooks know nothing but pallor. In April, the children fly lovely kites while my birds disappear in the mud with motionless souls. Oh my days, here is a wound, please listen to it.

 

 

 —-

 

 

Anwar Gheni Jaber (previously Anwer Ghani) is an Iraqi poet and artist. He was born in 1973 in Babylon. His name has appeared in many literary magazines and anthologies (as Anwer Ghani) and he have won many prizes; one of them is the “World Laureate-Best Poet in 2017 from WNWU”. Narrative lyricism and digital expressionism are his peculiar styles. Anwar is the author of “Narratopoet”; (2017), “Antipoetic Poems”; (2017) and other 50 books.  

His websites:  https://anwarjaber.wordpress.com

Read Poetry: WRATH, by Helen Haloulos

To take my hand and slowly tear it

Through your hair and rip your pride

And foolish ways to shreds

To yell and cry until my voice grows hoarse

And I run out of tears

To be angry and not be able to

Let it exit my body

To not let it vent

To trap it

And keep it

And pet it

Until it swells

And bursts

And I leave

Genre: Dark

Read Poetry: The Dawn, by Reginalde A. Abia

(Motivational)

It’s 5 o’clock in the morning
The dawn is nearly breaking
A start of a new day
Another chance, and challenge it brings

What is its importance?
That may bring in your life
Or just passed it at once
For it is the same last night?

As the sun rises from the horizon
Orbits in its usual direction
Moving morning, noon till dusk
Like a man changing its mask

Did you ask yourself as you wake up in the morning?
Or just leave everything in your bed, whatever
Did you thank God for a new day?
Leading ahead in your way

The dawn is a symbol
That dark nights cover the whole
But in a long run, after all
Bright future welcomes you with ardor

Our life has its own dawn
Until we become mature and full grown
Let’s have faith in ourselves, let it blown
For God above, He will sown

Read Poetry: Aurora Triptych, by Frederick Fullerton

Most people miss the magic pause
between night’s darkness and first light, 
hanging in brief limbo 
before daybreak’s gilded glow 
drives out the night 
with sunrise and brightens
all below while Venus still reigns
as a tiny crescent 
moon among winking stars.

 

Wildlife hastens a dawn retreat—
a fisher cat slouches across
a deserted two-lane road,
a fat skunk waddles lazily
deep into underbrush,
a coyote trio races
away in yipping harmony, 
a red fox strolls a sidewalk
like a man ambling home.

 

Amid this night and day duality,
morning’s first rumble of traffic
belches with car engines
and honking horns as commuters 
drive to and from their work
yet fail to discern the morning’s 
busyness at play, distracted
now by traffic lights and haunting 
tasks at desks and job sites
or home to sleep after night shifts.

Read Poetry: I hear the bells ringing, by Larry Perkins

I hear the bells ringing,
Soprano choir singing.
I open the door
to see you up there,
White veil nestled
in impeccable hair.

Row after row
of family and friends,
Seated and arranged
as not to offend.
I cautiously find
my own way in,
The minister says,
“shall we begin.”

“Dearly beloved,
we’re gathered here today,”
I think to myself,
I shouldn’t stay.
My mind starts to wander
to days in the past,
My eyes upon you,
it’s moving too fast.

You were special,
my first true love,
Heaven sent,
I thought from above.
I thought we would spend
a lifetime as one,
Your heart, I begged,
I never won.

I see the ring,
slide on your finger,
Kissing your lips,
the flavor would linger.
You turn as one
and present to the crowd,
Your love to another
officially vowed.

You march down the aisle,
in perfect stride,
Fully enamored
in each other’s pride.
Your eyes meet mine,
a total surprise,
Goodbye, without hesitation, your face implies.

Through the front door
in a hail of rice,
My end to a life
that would have been nice.
Seeing you marry
the man of your dreams,
My heart melting down through tearful streams.

Read Poetry by Gary Lee Thompson III

I see the world through my eyes
wondering if this is all a disguise
Religion seems to hate and divide
So I take a step back and look from the outside
As my thoughts begin to surface
I looked deeper for our purpose

The messages all seem the same
Religion is within us, so I claim
So I it’s OK if you have a different view
I just thought I’d write this for a few

So if we can acknowledge others views of the Savior
One by one we can begin to change our behavior
We were told that Jesus was crucified
Yet still many good people have all died

As I feel the energy within my soul
An army of one is my life’s goal
A higher power, i feel that most truly do believe
So The second commandment is what I perceive

It’s time to tear down these barriers of hate
Unified together as one with no other fate
Hope joy gratitude and do not forget love
Similar messages are being sent from above

Trapped as if we are playing in a game
Where all that matters is money and fame
The world blocked out my mind comes clear
I hear “Be still and listen” but have no fear
The message received, I must comply
I close my eyes and breathe a short sigh

As I awaken and become more aware
Unity, not war is what we must declare
With the world looking brand new
I slowly realize this is what I must do
Lets go because it’s more clear than before
Take thought with me so that we can explore

Different characters I feel we all play
Depending on what face we put on each day
The news, tragedies, and terrible events
We head from all our governments
Take a look inside come on let’s go
If we quiet the mind so does our ego

Turn on the news and don’t you fill Eery
So is it true or a conspiracy theory
All that we know is what we are told
So this line of questioning is what I unfold
This message is not a truth or dare
One nation under God let’s finally declare

If only we could become one powerful community
Maybe no matter our views we will find immunity
All of us masked with the different face
When everyone is just looking for Grace

So let’s start thinking outside the box
The walls come down and off come the locks
We are all one and unique
So the truth is all that I seek
Start to pay attention and you will see the signs
Hidden around us with different unique designs

This message is not to stir up Any hate
Just a different view which we all can relate
It starts formed for the sole purpose of unity
It’s time to come together, let go of scrutiny

This message is now coming to an end
Intuition tells me there’s more I’ll send

ABOUT THE ABOVE WRITING:

WRITTEN/SPOKEN OUT BY GARY THOMPSON III ON 3/17/18 I TALKED DURING DRIVE and SIRI TYPED. UNEDITED. TITLE after discussion of this on the phone was titled “Blackout” by Andrew Bryant.

ODD UNPLANNED BUT FELT COMPELLED LEAVE UNEDITED AND TO SHARE SINCE I DONT WRITE POETRY BUT JUST RANDOMLY PAUSED AND TALKED AS MY PHONE TYPED ON RIDE TO FAYETTEVILLE and I CANNOT RECALL THE WORDS AND SOME OF THE TIME WHILE TALKING THIS OUT…

I DO LIKE THE MESSAGE AND FEEL DUE TO SITUATION TO SHARE! SOME WILL LIKE THE SHARE AND SOME NOT! INTERESTING

Read Poetry: On The Gates Of “Heaven”, by Shahbaz Khan

Is there where the gentle breeze blows?
Is there where the sparkling river flows?
Is this where Cupid hides?
Is this where happiness resides?

Nay, this is where storms rage!
Nay, this is where floods cause carnage!
Nay, this is where Orcus slays families!
Nay, this is where sadness causes casualties!

But I was told this was Eden,
That this is where food and wine are laden!
And I was told that this was where my sorrow ends,
Where the stream is clam, and there are no more tight bends.

Nothing but lies you speak about,
Happiness is a hoax, in that there is no doubt!
Deceit in the world is in plentitude,
There is only gain and loss, no favor and gratitude.

I hope in my heart that you don’t speak the truth,
That there is good, and not just poisonous fruit.
Though my mind knows I hope in vain,
Without my hope, all that will be left is pain.

Pray all you want my foolish acquaintance,
But there is no endless feast, no angel’s dance.
I am the Devil, and I speak the truth!
Is this barren land not enough proof?

It is, but I dare not accept this,
That heaven is none, and the Devil is all there is.
Tell me you lie, that across is where moonlight will shine,
A place serene, a land divine!

In your death you remain a believer,
But there is nothing but my fire, I alone give, and I alone am the receiver.
Inferno is all that is, and ever will be,
There is no God, no heaven to see.

I submit, my faith is yours,
I was fooled by religion, and the con-men’s folklores.
In “his” name I ate and slept,
Oh! What an ugly hand I’ve been dealt.

Fear not, for hell isn’t what they told you!
There is a fire, but to you, no harm it shall do.
It burns those who still walk with blind faith,
The fire is only their own wraith.

But then how are you any different?
From the God you resent?
You are Him, you are the same,
Enough lies! Stop this game!

I do not have people bowing down,
I do not give false hope, only to leave a frown.
I do not have books and monuments in name,
I do not want credit, for I nothing to meddle in your “game”.

You are right, and I know that too.
But to leave all my faith is something I cannot do.
So burn me in your flames, but I can’t let go.
No matter how much proof you show.

Then burn till eternity in this fire.
You chose this over dance and lyres.
The fire will devour you and your soul.
You’ll burn and heal forever, and you bones will be used as coal.

Genres: Devilish, Faithless, Lost Hope, Mythical, Theological

—
Shahbaz Khan
thelonelypoetnet.wordpress.com

Read Poetry: WAS…, by Claudia Wallace

For a brief moment
skies were blue 
cars so arranged 
on weekend visits

subtle talks over coffee
old movies firing up love
play was the plot for the day
desire entered into it

children sleepovers 
called out for pizza 
chilled wine slowly sipping
feeling the warm rush of you

Sunday preparation 
departure off to war
flight 1010 to New York 
children in a tearful tow

returning home 
your scent lingers 
that somber space
such dead silence
 

For a brief Moment 
skies were blue 
cars so arranged 
on weekend visits…