Read NEW selected POETRY from all over the world

Submit your POEM to the Poetry Festival: http://www.festivalforpoetry.com

Read the best of poetry from all over the word. 

THE WRITERS CURSE, by Ganzart
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/01/31/the-writers-curse-poetry-by-ganzart/

MARVELOUS UNIVERSE, by Karina Pinella
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/01/31/marvelous-universe-poetry-by-karina-pinella/

DON’T LEAVE ME, by Arian Fatius
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/01/31/dont-leave-me-poetry-by-arian-fatius/

WHATEVER NEXT, by Alex Cottle
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/01/31/whatever-next-poetry-by-alex-cottle/

LOVE, by Bryan Chan
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/02/01/love-poetry-by-bryan-chan/

WRECKED LIFE IN THE GLOW OF YEARS THAT WINDS THROUGH MITES OF TRUTH, by Mimmie Dana
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/02/01/wrecked-life-in-the-glow-of-years-that-winds-through-mites-of-truth-poetry-by-mimmie-dana/

GARDEN, by Nadya Raymond
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/02/01/garden-poetry-by-nadya-raymond/

ANXIETY, by Shellie Palmer
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/02/01/anxiety-poetry-by-shellie-palmer/

SING ANEW O FREEDOM, by Jonathan Baltzly
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/02/01/sing-anew-o-freedom-poetry-by-jonathan-baltzly/

BRIGID, by Andrea Connolly
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/02/02/brigid-poetry-by-andrea-connolly/

I’M SORRY, by Jaco Potgieter
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/02/02/im-sorry-poetry-by-jaco-potgieter/

THE YEARNING, by Rishi Abhishek
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/02/02/the-yearning-poetry-by-rishi-abhishek/

MY LIFE HAS 9 ROOMS, BY Dheric Da
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2016/02/02/my-life-has-9-rooms-poetry-by-dheric-da-poet/

 

Submit your POEM to the Poetry Festival: http://www.festivalforpoetry.com

WATCH POETRY READINGS (see what we can do when you submit):

WATCH POETRY MOVIES (see what we can do when you submit):

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red wrists, Poetry by Sanchana Krishnan

we’re the cool girls of this generation,
the ones with the words ‘i .cannot. give. a. shit’
slashed across us in bold red,
the little lies we tell ourselves to go to bed,
instead of spending midnight hours strung on the edge
unable to seek behind or storm ahead.

Genres: Realism, Modern Day, Spoken Word, Self Harm, Depression, Strength, Recovery, Generation Y.

red wrists by Sanchana Krishnan

we’re the cool girls of this generation,
the ones with the words ‘i .cannot. give. a. shit
slashed across us in bold red,
the little lies we tell ourselves to go to bed,
instead of spending midnight hours strung on the edge
unable to seek behind or storm ahead.
the ones who fell asleep
to the sound of constant yelling, artillery shelling; bitter bullets exploding
into ugly bruises splattered across still skinny limbs,
shifting stories of anger and frustration, guilt and regret
expressed across inches of innocent skin;
the ones whose clothes were just a little bit frayed on the edges
the wear and tear of secret battles
fought behind sunset alleys, behind midnight tea stalls
or on bright Sunday afternoons
at the bus stand,
desperately fighting hungry eyes and hungrier hands.
we’re the cool girls of this generation –
the ones with the
red tips red lips 
red ribs red wrists.
we’re the cool girls of this generation –
the ones that house boys in our hearts and
smoke in our lungs,
the ones who spend way too much time inside their own head,
asking a hundred questions before every step in this game of wizarding chess that
never seems to slow down –
we’re the ones that can be found
wandering insomniac across sulphur-sodden streets,
wisps of distant wishes
settling into the foggy vestiges
of a high mind longing to soar higher.
we’re the cool girls of this generation
the one that are still allowed just the right rationing of
action emotion expression complication communication
while wearing a constant resting not-so-bitch face
head sorting information in a frenzied daze,
heart swinging between your fingers and a suitcase –
the ones with one foot in the present and
other parts traversing through parallel dimensions,
searching for a back up plan if your hearts refuse to allow us home;
the ones whose mouths became graveyards
for all the words that went unsaid,
for all the words to which we came undone,
for all times your eyes asked us questions that we shunned
we’re the cool girls of this generation –
the ones that belong to roads unknown and bodies untouched,
the ones that find stories in shipwrecked planks
that ride stormy oceans only to find homes
or perhaps even build them –
amidst the crumbling sand castles on the sea shore.
because we’re the cool girls of this generation –
the ones with the
red tips red lips 
red ribs red wrists.

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The Problem With Lester, Poetry by Damian Christopher

It was clear Lester was an old fool
Perusing that which is Delphic
In vain attempts
To seek divine forgiveness
For a sweet tooth for sin
And maladies of every nature
Only to give invitation to fear
And impercievable things
He will never know
Nor comprehend

Genre: New Goth

The Problem With Lester
by Damian Christopher

It was clear Lester was an old fool
Perusing that which is Delphic
In vain attempts
To seek divine forgiveness
For a sweet tooth for sin
And maladies of every nature
Only to give invitation to fear
And impercievable things
He will never know
Nor comprehend

The fool,
Blind to his folly
In pursuance of the impish and profane
In time, discovers their true associations
And maledictory nature
Injurious and virulent
He is soon bedeviled
To an eternity of futile pursuits
And a congregation of shame

The fool,
Mute to the whispers of the trees
Cries of the wind
And counsel of wild things
Wages wisdom for lunacy
Peculiarly, the selfish loon
For his vessel is perverse
Habitual in enduring disgrace
And he is forever weary

The fool,
His fate, kismet quelled
For there are those
That lay eyes upon us
Regardful our every deed
For the the price of redemption loss
In the hands of the damned
Is their baneful inclination

The fool,
A slave to his every whim
Devoid of prerogative
And sweet reason
Clever in his naiveté

But moored by dark, grave principalities
Like a hoary beast of burden
Fallen from grace
Even unto his last days
In misery, He shall amain in vain
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ΜEMORY, Poetry by Tzoutzi Mantzourani

Memory…
You erase everything
with a sponge
when you want…
You keep only the minimum
those small things
that were wrong done,

Genres: Rhyme, Love, Relationship

ΜEMORY
by Tzoutzi Mantzourani

Memory…
You erase everything
with a sponge
when you want…
You keep only the minimum
those small things
that were wrong done,
but so sweet,
so full of lust
so very well lived.
Ah… the memory!!!
I forgot your face
I can’t even remember
your eyes anymore.
Only, when the weather
changes,
few words, sharp as
a knife
just few words…
when we said goodbye.
I don’t even remember
what they were anymore…
Just the pain..
the pain of the moment
Only that I feel in my heart…
Only that….I remember.

Tzoutzi Mantzourani
STRAY POEMS.

 

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Ghost of my love, Poetry Mandar Naik

Last night I saw ghost of my love

It stood in the window, looking above.

It looked pale, tired and in despair,

As if it had just arrived from a crowded fair.

Genre: Rhyme, Romance, Love

Ghost of my love
by Mandar Naik

Last night I saw ghost of my love

It stood in the window, looking above.

It looked pale, tired and in despair,

As if it had just arrived from a crowded fair.

I was scared to see its darkest eyes,

Still hoping to give it one more rise.

Its deep buried smell of past,

Made me feel disturbed and aghast.

It pleaded me for a single sight,

to remember those days, tears and fight.

That endless waiting, those arms and songs to sing

Those rains, those touches, don’t you remember anything?

I said I have buried what all has gone

Those dreams withered, leaving me alone.

On the grounds of dried tears, I have sown phony smiles,

Guarding them from looming reminiscences reverting from long miles.

When you were alive, I had lived too merrily

Each day was bliss and slept dreamily.

Never knew you will leave me midway,

In the dark caves of sorrows without any ray.

I have managed to come over those mystic chants,

Which led me again & again into vicious rants.

It was a long way & it is foregone

Now I do not wish to remember & bemoan.

 

You go again into the deepest of my heart,

Never to revert again, never again to mar.

Never again scare me, never again rise.

I have given everything I had now to become empty & wise.

The Ghost looked at me proudly with a beaming smile,

Embracing my wet heart, waning in a while.

Said it, it will never ever reoccur from the depths

And sleep a long dream with eyes wept.

It disappeared from the window, I stood for a while.

Paying homage to my dead love & memories of time.

Then came down the rain to wet my mind

It washed away my past, sowing seeds of hope behind.

* * * * *

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HearT ShapeD BubbleS, Poetry by hillary bryan

Musical sun drops

Deliriously lovely, lovely spoken notions potions & thoughts

Our hearts joined the spirit of the earth

With the key to the sky

Ask the answer to the riddle

GENRE : Dub Poetry & Performer, Inspirational, Love, Motivational, Organically Sensual, Uplifting, Expansion, Gypsy Poet

HearT ShapeD BubbleS
by hillary bryan
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Musical sun drops
Deliriously lovely, lovely spoken notions potions & thoughts
Our hearts joined the spirit of the earth
With the key to the sky
Ask the answer to the riddle
There’ll be no reply
None could come in the form of word
“It” is too vast in simplicity to try
Mystical Fun Spots
Mysteriously intriguing light year highways
I gotta heart shaped bubble machine with phantom power
Spluttering rainbow dreams
Floating on the breeze down your street, into your window
And landing on your nose with a “plop”
Just before you catch sight of yourself in it
Learning to live life with the lights on
Grounded from below just as above
Heaven on earth happens inside me
Delightful to be totally free
Pilot of your own heart
Through the creative hit restart
Don’t think
Feel Again – FEEL again
Capable of divinity
Sold on mediocrity
Sleepwalkers mistake mud in the eye for the landscape
We far from powerless have allowed ourselves to be bound
Mistaking victimization for a crown
Let us throw off these heavy cloaks of self loathing
We have been convinced life is an eternal winter
And we need the illusions of earth for warmth
When a raging fire burns from within
Here and now sending my life pulse out to you
It is the same beat as your breath
My intentions rise and fall with the rhythm of your chest
We’re already holding hands you and I
Even though I am over the rainbow and through the sky
In this dream of a dream I know you are near
I give you my heart
Yet lose nothing but fear
Stepping up into a new level of love
The rooftop blows off from above
There are worlds within one breath
This is not about me
This is about you
Your heart, and opening it
Without ever having touched
I have known you more intimately than a lover
Our ecstasy not confined in bodies
You have played my soul like music with your words
Shivers and goose bumps visit me as I feel your thoughts
And your perspective intertwines with mine
I am lost in deciphering their differences
I go home with a piece of you today
Our energies altered, connected, grown
 ~ written by the selectress,
hillary bryan

 

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Flame – Poetry Reading by Carolyn Hucker, Poetry performed by Jason Martorino

Watch the Poetry Reading of FLAME

Get to know poet Carolyn Hucker:

1) What is the theme of your poem?

Desire and being taken out of reality by that desire. Being utterly at one your lover.

2) How would you like people to respond when they read or watch your poetry reading?

I would like them to have for a moment that feeling of being completely lost in someone else – that feeling where two souls become one, out of time and place.

3) How long have you been writing poetry?

A few years

4) Do you have a favorite poet?

Not specifically, but I love Wilfred Owen, Hugh McDiarmid, W.B.Yeats, Coleridge and a wonderful local poet, Liz Berry who writes evocative, beautiful poetry about the Black Country, where I live at the moment.

5) What influenced you to submit to WILDsound and have your poetry performed by a professional actor?

I have been writing bits of poetry for a few years but only for my own pleasure (or maybe as therapy). I have never had anything published. I thought it would be nice to see what other people thought of some of the things I do, positive or negative – it’s all feedback.

6) Do you write other works? scripts? Short Stories? Etc..?

Sometimes – I am an inveterate scribbler. Bits of poems and stories pop up all the time and just tend to get scribbled down.

7) What is your passion in life?

Generally being creative – I write, sing, make jewellery, paint a little and play ukulele.

On A High – Poetry Reading by Patsy Jawo. Performed by Reetu Bambrah

Watch ON A HIGH Poem:

Poetry about Love beyond understanding