Category: poetry

Poetry Reading: Bad Company, by Jason Yearick

Performed by Carina Cojeen

Words are
falling,
tumbling, to
the ground
enjambments
spilling down
railways
without
a sound-
poets, are
whimpering,
writers,
simpering,
readers
wrestling
words
roughly,
regretting
this word
squall
realizing-
this poet,
has
abused
them
all.

—

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

Festival Moderators: Matthew Toffolo, Rachel Elder

Casting Director: Sean Ballantyne

Editors: Kimberly Villarruel, Ryan Haines, John Johnson

Festival Directors: Rachel Elder, Natasha Levy

Camera Operators: Ryan Haines, Temitope Akinterinwa, Efren Zapata, Zack Arch

Read Poem: When I’ll meet him, by Damini Mudholkar

When I’ll meet him,
My heart will beat 100 times faster
Like getting close to a rollercoaster.

That time will froze too,
In this world like, it was made
Only for me and you.

And then I’ll hear it.
My breath in and out,
Eyes wide and shout.

The rush of adrenaline,
when I’ll approach you as mine
Rest assured.

https://tuleshwari.wordpress.com/2019/11/25/when-ill-meet-him/

Read Poem: A look on the bright side, by Tyler R. Martin

Empty atoms, in empty atmosphere
Compose dark clouds over head.
Empty coffee mugs catch rain drops from above,
Clouds empty out like bitter hearts now void love.

There is emptiness in every single soul,
Empty actions, empty goals.
There is emptiness in the illusion of control,
Empty husks in hollowed holes.

Empty waves of skyborne static strike
Motionless, trembling Maple trees below,
Empty fires billow upward, smoke and burn,
As hollow husks blacken smolder and churn.

Empty friendships and empty lover’s words,
Seas of fractured empty hearts.
Empty holy books and porous works of art,
Empty efforts, failing starts.

Poetry Reading: Gifts, by Zeki Majed

I have become the enemy of time,
as arrows march and leave behind.
It’s cruel to love and throw aside,
but the hope, the silence, that’s the crime.

I wait for God to show me signs.
The grip on my soul is death and tight.
I loved so much and lost my mind,
how tragic to love, when love’s just mine.

To be left with questions, wondering why.
To be left with faith, is to live while you die.
For true love, it waits and it lies,
to nobody but you, that it will be alright.

For we, the long forgotten empty souls,
always there when they call.
Although it’s cold, down below,
I’d freeze to death so she is warm.

We the puppets and they our masters,
leave us begging high, for time to run much faster.
For they moved on, but we slaves to answers,
and it’s hard to walk right on, when you wrote them books, but you’re a chapter.

After, I have faded into dark,
I ask this world with all my heart.

Keep her smiling and keep her calm,
make sure she is sheltered from the storm.
Even when they drained us and we are gone,
my love will live forever, it will go right on.

Read Poem: EVERYTHING…., by Andrew McG

Andrew McG
Twitter: @SpeakEasyMcG

…..That is what I miss about you

Just a lifetime too few
Just a smile left in the past
This is for our very last
“I Love You”
This is for our future tomorrow
This is for the utterly too few
“I’m Sorry’s”
May Mother Mary
hold you in her arms and whisper
her words of wisdom
Because you whispered them to me
When you held me in your arms
“Where there is a Will, there is a Way”
For every jab and every hook.
For every Polaroid we ever shook.
For every passed away yesterday
For every present that you were here
This is for the life we have loved
This is for the death we have shared

Read Poem: Flow!, by Laye Da Writer

Yeah you may think this another go round

I mean I cant say it’s different

We just can’t seem to shake the commitment

No wonder the tree is trembling on shaky ground

Would you walk away unphased if in these shoes

Someone in the others’ place might create a spot in the empty hole

So of course, they’ll sit back waiting like a troll

And then the ship sails off on the path of the cruise

Who are we to hold one who wishes to leave

Why even bother

What’s there to gain

Who even benefits

Where would it go

When would the genuineness play out

How in the hell would I be able to live with myself

Guess we would just have to see the trick come down it’s sleeve

All of this may sound boggled

Yes I know just a tad

Bare with me it’s not that bad

Not all of us navigate through the bulls**t goggled

Meaning we have to sift through and through

Then maybe on the other side is a way waiting

And they say play the field while you’re dating

Unfortunately there are things hidden, it’s true

But that’s half the battle

Don’t run from the humble

Yeah you’ll get some grumble

Sometime we really need that hard rattle

Usually these things paint a picture but the image is lost

Read Poem: My Mother’s Birthday Poem, by Charleen Carothers

To my mother
She is like no other
Being the oldest of four
I know lots more
Growing up I can recall
Things like asking for a ball
You dressing Cathleen and I alike
And dad teaching me to ride a bike
You said things like “don’t throw me in the Gatter”
And you made us climb a ladder
Taking us on many vacations
Seeing many nations
We went to Brazil
To climb a very big hill
To see a statue of Jesus Christ
The one in Rio De Janeiro sufficed
Visiting family in Sao Paulo
And many years to follow
Seeing different parts of Mexico
Which was very fabuloso
Then going on a family cruise
Where Christopher got to choose
To play a survivor game
Where he became more fame
Then Cathleen joins the show
By jumping to and fro
Even though nobody won
She was well liked by a ton
Then there was Italy where you got see
Many different things all without me
With all of the family travelings
As well as family gatherings
You have made sure we stay together
For that we all treasure
While making great memories
For our growing families
Recently going to France
While we had the chance
Where you said “To stay warm swim frantically”
And Calysia and I did it systematically
Though your words can sometimes confuse And it would be really funny if you were on the news
I grew up saying things that were wrong
And dads family remembers you wearing a thong
When you went to our grandparents pool The men became all a fool
All of the men
Watching with a grin
You’ve always been in great shape
Never like a pear or a grape
The woman would give you a hard time
Like working out while pregnant was a crime
Even as you age
No one can gauge
How old you really are
When you go dancing at a bar
Mom you may not ever truly get old
I know that is what you want to be told
Like a bottle of wine
You get better with time
It is you sixty sixth birthday
And there is only one thing to say
Sometimes I make things unpleasant
But I love you and made you this present
You have been working so hard
Barely making time to do the yard
Staying up late
And eating your dinner after eight
I am glad you will soon be qualified
And able to set aside
More time to rest
And be less stressed
Spend more time with your new grandchild To be there when she smiled
And teach her special things
That only a grandma brings
Happy Birthday mom
You are the bomb!
From your loving daughter Charleen
Who has eyes that are olive green

Charleen Carothers
Poems by Charleen

Read Poem: WHO AM I?, by Francis Ocran

(Genre: Regret,political, painful, child soldier,death)

I don’t know who I am any more
Unknown creature
A skinny lad soldier
I survived on death’s arena
I fought death’s command
Made to wear his mark
Wrote with his pen
Serving death
His poignant bloody meals
With pain in my heart
I slaughtered with his pen
Dripping souls bloodily
A pool under my feet
Imprisoning my humanity
And my love growing cold
I abused the fragile
Killed the strong
I had no choice
Than eat the meal of death
And survive each day
The evil I groomed
Hunted my existence
Ruling my day
Each day a cost to pay

I’m certain of no yesterday
Even if it does
There is no way
I’m here now
I did what I have to do
And avoided which I can’t
Saved those I can
But the toll on me
Is much heavier
Than the ox yoke
I have buried my love
Feeling and affection
Even for those I love
I’m that creature
That I made myself
A name that itches my ear
And dispatches my soul
Who am I?
Don’t tell me
It itches my heart
Unknown creature
I don’t know who I am anymore
Who am I?

Read Poem: The Unicorn, by lisa vaselenak chater

Soften me Sufi
with honey sweet words,
melt my mouth
with words painted languidly
with a Lover’s pure love,
lips kissed with the silent infinite,
making me miss
and return to you
apart, then
merged to you,
filled with longing
then flooded with light
from darkest blue darkness
to love’s deep delight.

Soften me Sufi,
save me from reality’s snare
winging me aloft
to heavenly realms
and soul’s playgrounds
swinging me into the cosmos
with painted pink portraits
and pastel winged horses
flying magically, immortally
unbridled and wild
through rainbow-streaked skies,
lips curved to a smile

Soften me Sufi,
with opal moonflowers
and all of their powers,
first for the eyes,
then the heart, and the hands
drawing me to draw
in Heaven’s green gardens,
in Lover’s treed lands,
showered with life-giving light
medicine for life’s maladies
and mis-spent memories
restoring love’s purest melodies
colorfully, ecstatically,
calling me, softly,
sweetly,
unceasingly,

Soften me Sufi.