Category: Uncategorized

When Muses Say Goodbye, Poetry by Robyn Lawson

Right there in his hands
He’d held the light, finally
Rescue imminent

Genre: Failed Redemption 

When Muses Say Goodbye by Robyn Lawson

Right there in his hands
He’d held the light, finally
Rescue imminent
RISE, love cried loudly
Please don’t shout so, he bemoaned
I’ll just fall down
Swampy Sirens crooned
Songs full of stale, trite intrigue
Their shadows, now home
Angels cried, silence
Hush all those false noises, Shh
It’s up to you now
when_muses_say_goodbye

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

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Odd Walking Thoughts – Unique Mirror, Poetry by Matt Taggart

I smile with broken teeth.

Crookedly we both see,

smiling into our mirror.

Genre: Society, Frustration.

Odd Walking Thoughts – Unique Mirror by Matt Taggart

I smile with broken teeth.

Crookedly we both see,

smiling into our mirror.

It’s not us.

Blood.

It’s my time.

You’ve shared enough.

Walking along looking at leaves.   ?

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

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Forest Time, Poetry by Matt Shirley

Fingers of sunlight

Paint shadows

Genre: Philosophical.

Forest Time

Fingers of sunlight

Paint shadows

On forest floor leaves

Coloured by the seasons T

hat set them float free

By Matt Shirley
@A_Sea_of_Words

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

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About Poetry, Poetry by lars blichfeldt

WILDsound Festival's avatarWILDsound Festival

Genre: Life, Society

About Poetry by lars blichfeldt

I used to love hating poetry. Written by those who failed living the expected life themselves. Now wrapping up words in riddles and fancy glitter. To attain the unattainable. Narcissistic socialists breathing the universe while reminding the masses to be satisfied just looking at the sun. I did. I looked at the sun. Astonishing... Perhaps i was wrong. Perhaps i was the failure. I started writing. It felt refreshing. Pats on the back, Polite comments and praises. I was seduced. Intoxicated by appreciation. Soon i would be the lump of coal. transforming into a diamond. The winning ticket. The one in a million. Flawless. Unique. Without practice. Without effort. A unicum. This 'new' me.. A thinker.. A writer.. A word wrapper.. A poet.. What i loved to hate, I now hated to love. Thinking like a child. Naive like a child…

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BURNING TEARS, Poetry by Lesang Sedibe

WILDsound Festival's avatarWILDsound Festival

Genre: Sad

BURNING TEARS

by Lesang Sedibe

Have you ever felt so cold inside
What about the the burn that rushes within every part of the body
Are you feeling colds and burns mingling without mercy of how it hurts
Burning tears running a mile dragging the skin line of your face
It can’t be stopped until that memory is gone…forever gone
Everything break lose
The heart faints because it can’t handle no more
The eyes can’t hold on…tears needs a way out
Everything burn like a horrible dream

Have you ever felt the burn that won’t stop ’til the memory is gone?
It makes my eyes breakdown with burning tears
Tears that takes away the surviving heart I had
Do you understand what I’m going through…
Have you ever felt what I’m going through…
Did you survive what I’m going through…
Cause I don’t understand but I’m feeling and surviving

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Movie Review of the short poetry film “Hammer”

festreviews's avatarFestival Reviews

“Hammer” played at the WILDsound FEEDBACK Film Festival, part of its October 2015 best of horror/thriller short films from around the word event. 

First off, watch the Poetry Film NOW:

Read Movie Review of HAMMER by Amanda Lomonaco:

While Hammer lacked a lot of the excitement and action that went along with the other films of the night, I still can’t deny how interesting the concept was. Like all experimental films, there will probably be a strong love/hate split between anyone who see sthis film, but I’ve always been a big proponent of experimental filmmaking.

Pushing the boundaries of any medium is incredibly important to highlighting and understanding its limitations, as well as helping us understand our own psyche. That might seem like a bit of a snobbish reason to justify experimental films, which can be pretty snobbish themselves sometimes, but its something many people don’t consider. Our reactions to…

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Today’s Instagram Posts: Sunday November 29 2015

WILDsound Festival's avatarWILDsound Festival

Today’s Instagram Posts: Professional Table Read Screenplay Readings

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Also, Free logline submissions. The Writing Festival network averages over 95,000 unique visitors a day.
Great way to get your story out: http://www.wildsound.ca/logline.html
Deadlines to Submit your Screenplay, Novel, Story, or Poem to the festival: http://www.wildsound.ca

Watch recent Writing Festival Videos. At least 15 winning videos a month: http://www.wildsoundfestival.com

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Bowser Complex, Poetry by Mica Scotti Kole

Can you blame me for wanting shiny things?
Down here where the only light burns,
licks against the slime of old walls?
Where the back of my throat is scorched
by the fire I spit to keep you from here?
Flickering, inconstant light—no, friend,
I haven’t stolen the stars for their power

Genre: Nerdy, Persona/Personality

Bowser Complex
by Mica Scotti Kole

Can you blame me for wanting shiny things?
Down here where the only light burns,
licks against the slime of old walls?
Where the back of my throat is scorched
by the fire I spit to keep you from here?
Flickering, inconstant light—no, friend,
I haven’t stolen the stars for their power
despite what the mushrooms have told you.
I crave them, that enduring glow, I have tried
my best, to hide them from you, but it is no use.
Even down here where walking the floors
means you might fall through, where falling
means another notch off a life,
you return, with your funny hats,
again and again, and you find them. So this time,
I’m going to sit and wait for you at the end,
keep them all in one place, see how far you get then.
And while I wait, I’ll follow the sparks of blue torches,
flickers of light on my first-stolen star,
darting among the slow-moving others
that spin with their soft points to watch her—
captive again, she is tired of calling your name.
Dancing in the kitchen, behind the stained glass,
she bakes a cake for me, lets me place the cherry
at the end, lights the candles
with her brilliance, and when you finally knock on my door
she is righting a too-big self-portrait of mine
hanging crooked from a pipe
on the wall.

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://festivalforpoetry.com

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A Four-Letter Word, Poetry by Caro Ness

Love is just a four-letter word
Like long, or like, or wish, or hope,
Yet, though it may seem quite absurd,
It encircles the heart with silken rope,
And makes each day seem bright and new,
With myriad wonderful things to do.

Genre: Romance, Relationship, Humor

A Four-Letter Word

by Caro Ness

Love is just a four-letter word
Like long, or like, or wish, or hope,
Yet, though it may seem quite absurd,
It encircles the heart with silken rope,
And makes each day seem bright and new,
With myriad wonderful things to do.
No hill too steep, no road too far,
To be precisely where YOU are!
You, the lover, you the muse,
You the beautiful dancing shoes
That sashay into the mind, the brain,
And linger, like a sweet refrain,
That needs discovering again and again….



Love is just a four letter word,
Like sing, or grin, or feel or hold,
Yet it’s the icing on the cake,
The greatest story ever told.
It’s the fizz in a fine champagne,
It’s the huff and puff of an old steam train
The breeze breathing gently on your face
The intricacies of a piece of lace,
It’s euphoria, it’s a dream
It’s the cherry on top of a large ice cream,
It’s a name you can’t ignore
If I’m the apple, your its core,
It’s a megatastic superstore.
Love is just a four-letter word,
But oh, it is so much MORE.

 

 

 

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://festivalforpoetry.com

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Front Doors, Poetry by Daniel de Culla

Baby O dynamite

mistress of the Star fish

swimming in my ears

where often a Wo/Man remains alone

Genre: Life

FRONT¨ DOORS

by Daniel de Cullá

 

Baby O dynamite

 

mistress of the Star fish

 

swimming in my ears

 

where often a Wo/Man remains alone

 

long to listen

 

Doors singing my business daily

 

dead as a door nail

 

into all this Channel

 

O.O. % Ecstasy. No¡

 

showing me a door opening by itself

 

at the End of lives forgotten

 

when Sun is a dog cart

 

botted with gay dogs

 

of the dooms day

 

sit and dreaming

 

of the floor of our

 

nothingness sentencing:

 

“Baker’s dozen talk

 

19 to the dozen”.

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://festivalforpoetry.com

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