Poetry Movie: PART CONVERSATION WITH HOMLO by Bhekuzulu Khumalo

Poetry by Bhekuzulu Khumalo

Narration by Matt Barnes

Visual Design by Kimberly Villaruel

Produced by Matthew Toffolo

Read Poem: TOGETHERNESS by RAVINDRA KUMAR KARNANI

“Together” is a place
Where it’s wonderful
To be side by side
And here’s where
The entire family
Loves to reside.

The weather here is warm
All feel safe and secure
Are always drenched
In love and kindness
And deep inside feel so pure.

This is a Private place
Owned severally
Also, owned by all
Secured from outside world
And not affected at all.

Here,
Kindness is given and received,
With no guilt or demand.
All are leaders
There is no command.

Understanding is so good
Communication at it’s best
All the inner feelings
Are openly expressed.

Now the question is
If ‘Together’ is a ‘place’
What is togetherness?

When the family is ‘at’ Together
The vibes that they give
It’s a feeling of wholeness
That immerses you into bliss
The vibes that you get
Of Generous, Tenderness, Gentleness
This I think is true Togetherness!

Genre: Family, Relationships, Motivational

Genre: Family, Relationships, Motivational

Read Poem: Ruby by Nagma H. Ahmed

A roe, a sawdust, an idle charm

She is a dying fire,

A hot ash who kissed off

Her self pity, her

Grueling groove, her

Rhetoric rhymes

A hart absorbed with action,

And adventure flicks,

Takes everything in even.

A darling deadwood

A pungent clicker,

A mustached chanteuse,

Who finds serendipity

In a most vignette area.

A scurvy with a whim,

Waiting for her ginger heyday.

Read Poem: TO FREELY SHARE by Gary Bertnick

What the new heart freely shares,
True love for another person
Flows from the pure stream of our God,
The Holy Spirit fountain rises up from within
Whether for a needy or special brother or sister
It flows out the same;
At times in a subway rush hour
Or a crowded sidewalk
The heart suddenly stirs and reaches out
A stranger seen, maybe even heard,
One unknown, yet the Spirit urges
And often a sudden prayer is spoken in compassion, in kindness
Whether young or old, male or female
Caring love moves within to touch one or more, at times literally!
Alert and watchful
The work of our Peaceful Shepherd within us, through us
The Counsel of His Spirit
Wisdom reveals a greater plan
To gather more together always;
To enlarge my unique personal path,
And to enlarge my refined heart in His Kingdom Family of abundance
The Fellowship of Love that can only grow in quality and numbers
And become more satisfying and pleasing to Him.

https://garybertnick.wordpress.com
“The Book of Calling Home”

Read Poem: Response to 8 Philosophers Examining Life by Susan L. Brown

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1 born in the shadow of Chernobel, climbing rubble;
1 rejecting Torah for Logic, talking semantics;
1 looking for death in life, humming Jazz in a taxi;
1 in search of social Justice, following the shoreline;
1 an observer at a Revolution, rowing blindly;
1 finding Ethics in storefronts, saving souls and money;
1 a voice at the edge, fringing mainstream Culture;
1 Metaphorically taking walks in a wheelchair.

Any of these
might be a friend or family.
There they are
treading lightly,
crossing the road in traffic,
watching children in the park,
rushing home in the dark,
avoiding making meaning
by examining life at all costs.

They are at risk of losing
sight and mind or mobility.
They flex muscles most of us have lost
through time and neglect.
Nevertheless
we can fly
where they only prepare to die.
My 8 have no use
for mythology
and love destroying…

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Read Poem: Response to 8 Philosophers Examining Life by Susan L. Brown

1 born in the shadow of Chernobel, climbing rubble;
1 rejecting Torah for Logic, talking semantics;
1 looking for death in life, humming Jazz in a taxi;
1 in search of social Justice, following the shoreline;
1 an observer at a Revolution, rowing blindly;
1 finding Ethics in storefronts, saving souls and money;
1 a voice at the edge, fringing mainstream Culture;
1 Metaphorically taking walks in a wheelchair.

Any of these
might be a friend or family.
There they are
treading lightly,
crossing the road in traffic,
watching children in the park,
rushing home in the dark,
avoiding making meaning
by examining life at all costs.

They are at risk of losing
sight and mind or mobility.
They flex muscles most of us have lost
through time and neglect.
Nevertheless
we can fly
where they only prepare to die.
My 8 have no use
for mythology
and love destroying “Truth”
by any other name.
They would maim
foresight, insight, hindsight
just to extend the game
and mine the past for ethics, justice,
responsibility and shame.

The deeper they go
the more they erase
our space and time
expanding the chase from paradigm to paradigm.
Until the riddles accelerate to escape velocity
And they leave us to our senses
As they reach for transcendence…

While they still walk on solid ground
I might join them, take a short ride,
stumble up slopes of effluent and mayhem,
open a door
watch waves grabbing at the shore, dodge a bullet,
glide up ramps to public places, see the fascination
reflected on faces in commercial glass,
or hide behind a picket sign
brandished by some working class.
I might hide in their midst
to catch a glimpse
of what we could share
or bare
in spite of our philosophical frames.
We must dream and therefore we need to be.
All the rest comes better naturally.
You walk, they walk, we all talk
to make a “good life”.
Leave the good death for later.

And meanwhile, even better,
try planting a seed, then another.
Feed the planet, share the wealth
that the unlikely universe provides
to make us
somehow enchanted,
wrapped in the mystery of Eden
that Philosophy only dreams of unraveling
And science only calculates disastrously.
Plant a seed, plant a thought,
Watch them grow
as the ecology of life and thinking
creates a predetermined path
that’s in our nature to follow.
And if we step out, step off
that yellow brick road
that our semantics and hopes have paved
we may plummet a great way,
thrilled by the awe of empty space,
appalled by the limits of our own brains,
speeding toward who knows where,
moving to achieve entropy
in free fall
like Poetry.
s. l. brown

Read Poem: ADDICTION by J. A. Allison

Been long since I have felt a peace of mind 
A ceaseless struggle is all I ever find
Too much temptation everywhere I see
What could this world possibly want from me?

Dreams, goals, any potential I had
Are lost in a crevasse, no longer manned
All that’s left are holes and scars 
Piercing my soul, not just my arms 

I knocked on the door of agony and fire
To be strung-out and get a little higher
It’s not only the drug that has me in chains
But the needle, the ritual, are all to blame

My chariot awaits for the devil has come
To take me away while my angel is gone
My last burnt bridge that cannot be undone
In hell I remain, no longer God’s son.