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POETRY Reading: Sweet Gratitude, by Claudio Laniado

Narrated by Val Cole

POEM:

Sweet gratitude because I can walk, talk, eat, drink, enjoy a beautiful sunset , have a home , carry a home within myself, share of myself with loving kindness to those who I meet, and inspiring others to do the same because love and compassion for me is a start of a way to act toward my fellow earthlings.
My love overflows as I tap into the power of love and compassion because love and compassion can be stronger than the love of power.
Our earth may be crumbling but it is to remind us tis time to get out of the mud, to walk together in a path that unites all despite our many differences. It’s time to unite to save any love and compassion you might have.
Our humanity needs you!
Bring on the greatest fight you will have, for love and compassion to your fellow earthlings!
Join us lovers and compassionate people, before the world crumbles. Find gratitude between the lines.

By producer of Forbidden Tango, Claudio Laniado

Read Poem: Sweet Gratitude, by Claudio Laniado

By producer of Forbidden Tango, Claudio Laniado

Read Poem: THE STRANGER, by Melvin Glazer

In the day of your night, I come
a stranger appearing and disappearing
like a mirage in the desert of your dreams
In the day of your night, you come
a chaser of ghosts, but you will never find who you seek
for whom you seek is no longer there
No matter how hard you look
no matter how much you hurt
you will never find him in me
and who you do find (in me) is not who I am
but a stranger of little value to you
when placed next to the ghost of who I was
and in looking for who I was, you fail to see me

In the day of my night you come
but not as a chaser of ghosts
for no matter how hard I look
no matter how much I hurt
I can never bring back what was
the wonderful boy who is now a man
I can only deal with what is and what is, is
I see the part of me that is part of you
as you see the part of you that is part of me, and that will never change
I will always be your father and you will always be my son
and I will always love the boy you were and the man you are
and you will always love the ghost of who I was
but perhaps, one day, you’ll love the stranger in me too
and forgive me for all I did and didn’t do
for by forgiving me, you will in so doing, be forgiving yourself
thus a gift to each and each to the other
the greatest gift of all
LOVE

Read Poem: LOVE, by James Stordy

Let my lips serenade your body
and place my hands gently on your curves
Let my eyes deeply embrace yours
and let my voice whisper softly in your ear
let the fires burn intensely
and the candles illuminate you
let the night turn into day
and watch the stars disappear
until tomorrow
and i let me serenade you all again

Read Poem: LOVE, by Peter F. Pike

The opposite of courage maybe fear

but the true opposite of fear is love.

Bravery is something we all hold dear;

such a precious gift from heaven above.

But what of love? That emotion splendid!

Where hatred has festered; Love brings healing

as broken relationships are mended.

Isn’t Love the highest-soaring feeling?

Love can truly cure the broken-hearted;

all the fallen, Love gently raises up.

It just takes kindness to get Love started:

that grateful sip of water from a cup.

Love—the highest of all our emotions

Love—the deepest of all our devotions

Read Poetry: Confessions, by Lizardin Bain

You say I’m pretty. You say I’m kind,

But does it ever cross your mind,

That you’re being awfully abusive.

Of course, it doesn’t. Why it should?

The nicest words they never could,

Hurt anyone or be intrusive.

And people think so, and my brain,

It tries to cope, but all in vain.

My heart prefers to be preclusive.

You sing those tunes without a care,

You fail to see that I can’t bear,

The notes that sound to me illusive.

I understand that I am flawed,

But all I see is brutish fraud,

Who is as rude as he’s delusive.

I do not trust when someone says:

“I fell in love in three short days.”

It’s highly doubtful and allusive.

Your words are brining only pain,

They are constricting, like a chain,

And I can hardly take your glee.

But you’re urging me to stay,

And not allowing me to say,

My desperate, urgent plea.

The anger hops up to the front,

You end up sliced. You end up burnt,

You cuss, you spit, you flee.

I ‘m left alone. I’m left unbound.

Denied a voice, denied a sound,

Like cursed, unwanted sea.

I curl inside. I close the door,

Refuse to roar and feeling sore,

I throw away the key.

And I am failing to confess,

And I am failing to express –

How love confessions hurt me.

Genre: love, relationship, hurt, another point of view, confession, sad

Read Poetry: The Words I Spoke, by Jordan Corley

Genre: Love, Hope, Life

I waited patiently for the world to follow
To adjust
To reset
And comprehend what I had just said
I gave myself the same courtesy
A minute
A day
Maybe two to process their meaning
They weren’t anything special
Nothing spectacular
Nothing memorable
The words that left my mouth
But something felt right
A click
An acknowledgment that maybe
just maybe I was meant to say them
They were meant to be heard
I waited silently for the world to follow
To stop spinning for a second
For just one moment
As I let the words leave my lips
Free my tongue of their grasp
Their power which clung to my thoughts
Through sleep– no sleep
What is sleep when these words are present?
In my thoughts
Always
Through daylight
And menial tasks so often required
To sustain life in this world
To feign sanity
Wrought by a wavering focus
They were nothing to be remembered
Really
Anything but important
To the outside observer
To a distant onlooker
But perhaps that’s why I remembered
The way they felt as I spoke
Why I recited the time
The place
The date of which I said them
Over and over
And over again
In my head
The breath that came before and after
I opened my mouth
The pause between each word
Each syllable
To ensure perfect deliverance
Perhaps that’s why they’ve stuck with me all these months
All these years
Later
They were honest
The last words I said to you

Read Poem by Oceana

Genres : love, hurt, revenge, spiritual, philosophical

No Right

You have no right to ask how I am
And no right to an answer
No right even to the thought occuring
Or the breath that bore it
That breathed our moment
In vengeful violence
Spitting and seething spite
In dark deluded condemnation
Of everything you claimed once right.

You have no right to the friendship
That you beat up
And threatened death to the life that bore it
But unabashed and unforgiven
You assume it
Say you don’t need forgiving
He was due it
You’re the master and there’s no chance
He could ever do it.

You have no right to claim regret
No right to say you are sorry
When to every other face is a different story
Where malice remains the prince amonst principalities
And you justify revenge with vivid stories
With you as the chosen one
With you enlightened and not undone.

You have no right to claim to see the truth
Or to be it’s living example
To uphold yourself as one of the few
Yet in the face of everything
This is what you do.
To god and yourself you must justify
Delusion that you can’t deny
Only you can answer why
Only then you cannot lie.

Read Poetry: Flowing Form, by Stuart Aken

Form colour texture shape

Do they singly or in blend

Define what we see as beauty?

Is it how the limbs are made

The curving contours or

The hidden depths unseen?

Can genetic imperative alone

Something so banal be why

Or does some other force apply?

Undoubtedly we are attracted

Are all designed to look

And gender is no key

Despite the jests on paper bags

The face is all-important

A smile an invitation glance

When the loved one looks your way

Is it you who fills those eyes

And that one you really see?

By Stuart Aken (UK)

Genres: Love, Philosophical, Relationships, Romantic.

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Read Poetry: Finally, by Sophia Ananda

Genre: Hope, Faith, Trust, Love, Insight, Spiritual, Spirit, Spirituality, Soul, Soulful, Connected, Connection, Human, Humans, Peace, Peaceful, Inner peace.

”Hi! How are you?” he asked,

tired and not prepared for her answer,

when opening his arms.

She did not stop to breathe, instead

she opened up, nothing smooth about it,

more like an erupting volcano.

”I am true generosity

and I am

the not wanted envy.”

”I am the purest of white

and I am the blackness of sorrow,

with tiny streaks of grey.”

”I am the golden morning light,

and I am

the dense evening darkness.”

”I am in fact the earthly beginning,

as much as I am

the heavenly end.”

He sat down and sighed,

exhausted after a day’s work,

then cleared his throat and whispered.

”Why? What happened?” he asked,

wiping away the beads of sweat

on his tanned and wrinkled forehead.

”Me … I heard the real me

for the first time,

and it was loud and clear. Just like you.”

She took his cold, sweaty hand,

gently touched his cheek and smiled.

”It was I who finally happened.”

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