Category: Uncategorized

Read Poem: THESE ARE THE BLUES, by Marianna Gerrman

Idly sitting by the fire…cigarette in tow,
drawing smoke rings in the hazy air,
disappearing…and reappearing once more.
Thinking of you and me, chiding each other
about this or that…
Why is it, that there’s a fine line between love
and loathing? I’d like to know, I’d like to know.
Wishing you were next to me, at this precious moment,
while I’m here loafing around, doing absolutely nothing.
Combing my hair, counting one, two, three…to be, to be and be.
Thinking I should read a book or listen to a radio’s forgotten melody.
Wincing at my own image in an age old mirror…oh how old
do I look now, younger, older than my years, let’s hope
my eyes deceive me.
I can’t stop pondering that I’m about half way done with life,
or it’s about half way done with me.
Oh what’s to be done about that….
Nothing, absolutely nothing. Or anything?
I must be grateful to be still breathing and….walking, as often
As I like to, every other day, especially on weekends, in the park. Or
just being able to watch people and birds and trees…
Life is so different now than oh so many years ago,
it’s all so je ne sais quoi….
And yet I’m thinking the same old idle thoughts as in the good old days
or maybe they’re different, they must not be the same, they must.
You’re saying I should do more with my life,
Like somebody…..like Piaf perhaps with “Je ne regrette de rien…”
No, I don’t have any regrets, though some days I do,
and what of it. Everybody does….so I like
to do nothing at all, maybe not make a mark at all,
though I desperately WANT to….

I want you to say, “It’s okay.”
But you stay silent….

October 3, 2012

Read Poem: Flipside of the Familiar, by Bob Eager

Flipside of the Familiar
Mr Authenticity Bob Eager

About time to meet the Other side of the coin,

Under the surface topic revealed..

Relatable Subject matter flipped on its tails head.

Now Floating in regular view—-

Discussed now readily and available for mass consumption,

Beyond comprehension but necessarily openly stated –

No longer kept a hidden underground secret ;

Now the unearthed topic has finally been fully realised with …..

Just got its just due and now fully approaching a congregations celebratory lips.

Sound familiar maybe?

Generated by its upturn.

Go figure this Abstract concept just got promoted to the forefront!

Obverse or Converse route–

You Pick!

The End!

Read Poem: PRISON OR HOME?, by Laye Da Writer

Confined to these desolate walls

Waiting for the day they make a releasing fall

Always thought it was my mind trapped

Feeling this glass ceiling tapping completely capped

Released for hours at a time day in and out

Listening to my soul have its internal cry yet no external shout

Save me from the pit I’m slipping into will you

Sadly you can’t because you know not what I must do

No warden no bars no alarm

But mentally to me it’s crippling causing harm

Any ounce of a smile snatched away with the slight thought

Bringing fun here couldn’t even be in my wildest thought

Come on it can’t be that bad right

Here take my shoes prepare for this flight

No ease of woosah in the moments of need

All of it sucked up in the wickedest way of greed

How can I escape is what you ask

I’m hoping you standing on the outside can help with the task

Free me from the dread walking through the gates also my threshold

If the walls could talk not a tongue would they hold

Once looked as my paradise but viewed now as my end

Spirit broken by the entrance when only meant to bend

What joy does it bring to mind

Because even Jesus got out a wicked bind

I just want the caged animal to be released and free

Rewarded with love and empowerment being the best, best can be

Tired of carrying this fight will you save me

They’ll never see what I saw or feel this

Either I’m walking out or burning my burdens

In the end one was captured walks away to close the curtains

Interview with Screenwriter Simon Kelton (Eddie the Eagle)

matthewtoffolo's avatarMatthew Toffolo's Summary

It was a joy chatting with the screenwriter one of the the hit films of 2016 in “Eddie the Eagle”. Simon talks about the process from development to distribution of the film, plus shares a lot of insights on screenwriting . Enjoy!

simonkelton.jpgInterview with Simon Kelton

Matthew Toffolo: What motivated you to write the screenplay for Eddie the Eagle?

Simon Kelton: Like any Brit who loves the mountains I already knew a lot about Eddie’s magnificent adventures at the 1988 Winter Olympics in Calgary. After graduating from Oxford University, I had set up a ski company in Chamonix, France, to pursue my great passion for skiing and was so inspired by Eddie’s bravery and wild ambition that I ended up competing in the British Snowboarding Championships and World Extreme Snowboarding Championships in Alaska. Like Eddie I was over the moon just being able to watch my heroes doing what they did…

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Read Poem: ALL MIGHTY PEN, by Sujoy Bhattacharya

Your pen should be drinking
briny horror .
Your must delve into the
murky grave .
Your pen ought to revile
at stupid generosity .
Your pen has to add salt to
human injury bleeding .
Your pen must open the
wounds of love to infection .
Your pen would make aflame
the flag of humanity
Your pen must write elegy over
the carcass of agony .
Your pen would fly the kite
of aroma of blatant treachery .
Your pen must ooze out venom
of velocity of vicious crime .
Your pen has to shower a deluge
of opprobrium to eulogy .
Your pen rinses the blood of
sublimity in the brook of notoriety .
Your per must kill the embryo
to make prosperity unproductive.
Your pen would add adulteration
to beguile the profaneness of purity .
Your pen would throw acid bulb
to deform the face of rejected love .
Your pen might travel to alien
land to pollute the environment of that planet .
Your pen would make the amnesty
throttled to death by the ruthless tong of severity .
Your pen must cripple the mobility
of a restless antelope of racing Impala boastful .
Your pen would punish Othello
for indulging faithlessness in immaculate love of Desdemona.
Your pen ought to exile Homer
for writing the epics – Iliad and Odyssey immortal .
Your pen must mute all the vibrant
voices singing the psalm of truthfulness.
Your quill would obviously make other
pens blunt to raise insolent insurrection .

Read Poem: WE WHO, by R.J Britten

Labels spoken, given, intended,
Causing responses making you look,
Intrinsically judged before even known,
We
All suffer deep down internally.

Lives built on labels, whether told in truth or self-seeking culminations.
We strive aiming for peace, clutching at vapours
Believing in fallacies.

Each and everyone, a poor reflecting facade
To mindful of intrinsic dreams,
we neglect our closest opportunities.

Broken souls, all tainted by poison of the same,
To fearful to speak and learn that we are in great need.

Walls built, masks worn, lives torn, the great long earthly sojourn.

When all is done away with
It’s only love that should truly remain.

©R.J Britten

Read Poem: SELF DESTRUCTION, by Misty Manor

Genre: motivation, inspiration, pain, self discovery, life,

Didn’t really understand it then
the heartache and pain I endured
Lured by the devils deception
I found myself oblivious to my own demise
Aimlessly existing with no plan or mission
My vision became obscurred by my own negative assumptions of me
A reality, I grew all to accustomed to
bruised and battered from life’s low blows
I lash out to those innocent bystanders
caught in the crossfire
My desire to find purpose no longer appeased me
Easily affixed with all things self-destructing
I find temporary alleviation
Self-medicating the pain away.
Detached from my emotions,
I appear visible to the naked eye
Yet, Invisible within
Uncertain of what the future may hold
I refuse to succumb to self inflicted internal injuries sustained along the way
In turn I pray for the creator to intervene
Saving me from a deadly encounter with self
Reviving my mission to exist
I persist past the pain once designed to annihilate me
Now the kryptonite used as fuel to enhance me!
Stronger then ever before
I soar far beyond where my dreams could’ve ever taken me
Renewed and inspired,
appreciative of life’s jaded path constructed precisely for me
molding me into an imperfect masterpiece

Read Poem: A New Season, by Melba Christie

For some unexplained reason
clergy, pastors, preachers and rabbis
created a whole new season

No explanation would suffice
everyone wondered on whose advice
this decision was made

We can only hope
something good emerges
like the sun does from behind the clouds
or like when an opus is born
Some consider this whole thing a phenomenon
perhaps even an omen
Did Nostradamus forewarn us?
A prophecy perhaps
of what we all knew would happen?
“Peace is not a season.” someone said.
It is or should be a way of life.
A season free of strife,
Can it possibly be true?
It’s up to me and it’s up to you.

Read Poem: Grow, Soul of Child, by Panda Boy

That smell is a smell so dear to me,
A hint of childhood past.
One with even bad memory,
Would recognise at last.

If that past has passed your memory,
Then future be on your present.
But if the future is unsure,
You are sure to be unpleasant.

Abused and fatherless
Or pampered and spoilt.
The clues shrouded in
Your very own mind.

Do not be the one who abandoned,
Don’t be the one who achieves.
Be the one who has the will
To conquer your fears.
For only then you will grow,
Soul of child.

Genre: Motivational, Kids, History

Read Poem: Mannaz, by Lawrence Mathebula

Your only days, and nights to live,
On earth thy heart to theirs, you may give
Love to all earthly creatures;
From brothers to thy sisters,
Too they sooner should return;
It’s one cycle changing, turns
With time and days, swiftly, we
Shan’t disband humanity
But throngs and unions gather
Around the world and further
In foreign places, the near
In foreign ones over there,
Is the other souls, similar,
The body that which you are.

Inspired by the runestone: Mannaz.