Star Wonders, Poetry by Sherry Cross

Stars
in the sky
never reply to the wishes
I make/they hypnotize/ mesmerize/ keeping me
attune /while I dream of ones lost and gone to Heaven/

Genre: Life, Space

Star Wonders by Sherry Cross

Stars
in the sky
never reply to the wishes
I make/they hypnotize/ mesmerize/ keeping me
attune /while I dream of ones lost and gone to Heaven/
I close my eyes/open my mind/ how I
miss being together/ forever/ our lives go on sadly / madly/ I hope/
I cope/ without ever feeling or hearing/ the voice echo loud/
proud/ laughing, talking, yelling, singing/
tunes still play/ here we stay/ I continue to watch to the sky
looking for a twinkling piece/ a niche
To call our
Own

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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MONET – Poetry Reading by Caroline Clemens

Watch the Poetry Reading of MONET. Performed by Val Cole: 

Get to know poet Caroline Clemens:

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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Tooth and Nail – Poetry Reading by Dudley Clarence Sturgis IV

Watch TOOTH AND NAIL Poetry Reading. Performed by actor Val Cole:

Get to know the poet Dudley Clarence Sturgis IV:

1) What is the theme of your poem?

The theme is determination.

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

I want people to feel determined. They may face a dragon, but they already wield Excalibur. We all have the power to overcome our obstacles.

3) How long have you been writing poetry?

I’ve been writing since I first learned how to put pencil to paper – or rather, crayon. Art has always been my passion. Writing, drawing, painting – I do it all.

4) Do you have a favorite poet?

I know it may be cliche, but I’ve always adored Edgar Allan Poe.

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

I’ve written quite a lot of poems. Some of those I’ve turned into songs or spoken word pieces. I’ve never really been a fan of my own voice, however. This was perfect for me.

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

I’m a self-published fantasy novelist. Art is an addiction for me. I can’t really stop.

7) What is your passion in life?

Passion in itself is my passion. I have it for a number of things – art being only just one. Nature is my inspiration. Love and spirituality go hand-in-hand and this journey of mine is just one of many more on this beautiful planet. Everyone has a story. And I want to read as many as I can – while writing my own.

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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My Life Tumbled and I Fell – Poetry Reading by A Goomer

The theme of my poem is the struggle to pull yourself up after you lose someone that you love wholeheartedly. Dealing with depression and loss.

 

Watch the Poetry Reading of MY LIFE TUMBLED AND I FELL. Performed by Val Cole:

Get to know poet A. Goomer:

1) What is the theme of your poem?

The theme of my poem is the struggle to pull yourself up after you lose someone that you love wholeheartedly. Dealing with depression and loss.

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

I would like people to respond by feeling the emotion of my poem, to connect and heal. Also, to let them know they are not alone in this feeling of total loss and emptiness, it will get better, hang in there.

3) How long have you been writing poetry?

I’ve been writing poetry seriously since 2009, but I’ve been an artist my whole life and have always written.

4) Do you have a favorite poet?

My favorite poet is Edgar Allen Poe

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

I think some people may connect better with a verbal voice than just reading it silently? Plus I am curious to hear the performer’s take on it.

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

No, not at this time. I’m just writing poetry, working on a second book right now, a follow-up to My Life Tumbled and I Fell.

7) What is your passion in life?

My passion in life is love, animals and creating! I love helping others who are struggling, because I can relate. If I can help one person who feels lost or hopeless with my book, I would feel amazing 🙂 Life is crazy and really hard, but we can get through it with the help of each other. I love sharing my story with others because I feel like it’s not something people talk about, but we need to. Depression and suicide is very important to talk about and it’s good to know that we can still rise from the flames even if we feel like we never will. Positivity is key, and there is always a silver lining in every tragedy, you just have to see it. It took me 3 years to see it, but I did and here we are.

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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Beaten Path. Poetry by Naseha

Song on my lips, dust on my boots, and dark night around me I take a moment;
A moment to look around as I travel the worlds unknown.
My Arabian horse – Lester, smiles at me in the light on the lantern, we are lost again
In the dense of the mossy thick forest, echoing with wing’s drone.

Genre: Rhyme, Reflective, Philosophical, Hope, Romantic

Beaten Path
by Naseha
http://www.naseha.world

Song on my lips, dust on my boots, and dark night around me I take a moment;
A moment to look around as I travel the worlds unknown.
My Arabian horse – Lester, smiles at me in the light on the lantern, we are lost again
In the dense of the mossy thick forest, echoing with wing’s drone.

The yellow parchment of my dog eared tanned leather bounded sweaty dairy;
Which I so lovely call my logs, is eagerly waiting for my ink and quill
The stars speak, the midnight has passed, I pack away the day,
As I decrease the flame, from my mouth, see the creeping wet chill

Lester is snoring; peaceful with the mossy air of forgotten foggy forest trail
After a month and half in desolated the parched land of dust
The spirit in me, forces me out of my cozy cottage filled with aroma of mushroom
To take on the paths not known, under star, sun, or fog, walk I must

Lester, my trench coat, my log, my quill as my companion, I travel to embrace
The mist of the height, the thirst of stark, the lead of unseen brook
The tame of terrain wild, the serenity of the rushing gale, warmth breath of trees
Old, knotty, patchy, all safely, frozen for eternity, in pages of my book

Off the beaten path, away from comfort of known souls, under the Canopus
On creaking, dry mattress of a thousand yellow, green, and red
Occasional ease of the stained bedding in a lonely Inn on a highway, lit by single lantern
I give in to the insanity in me, to find, to seek, on virgin gravels to tread

I close my eyes as I walk, to lose the known paths, in getting lost in terra incognita
Only then can I chance upon inebriation of charting the chartless in rife
Maybe with few silver coins in the pocket, no mansion to pass on, but richer by far
Lived a million lives with each unsung path, I chart in chronicles of my roving life

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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A Remarkable Tale from the Land of Podd, Poetry by Ed Newman

In a faraway land, in the Land of Podd,
folks felt themselves each just a little bit odd.
Why in fact, not a few,
not even a dozen,
and not just a sister or uncle or cousin…
‘Twas the entire country caught under this spell,
each believed only others were anything swell,
and each felt discouraged just a smidge by his lot,
and this is what happened, believe it or not.

Genre: Humor, philosophical, hope, motivational

A Remarkable Tale
from the Land of Podd
by Ed Newman

In a faraway land, in the Land of Podd,
folks felt themselves each just a little bit odd.
Why in fact, not a few,
not even a dozen,
and not just a sister or uncle or cousin…
‘Twas the entire country caught under this spell,
each believed only others were anything swell,
and each felt discouraged just a smidge by his lot,
and this is what happened, believe it or not.

It had been a bad year, and in addition to famine
there were enemy troops on the borders of Salmon,
their unfriendly neighbors near the Mountain of Yore
and the King was near certain that his land was done for.

So he needed a messenger to save their lands
and he sought out a hero from the kingdom’s bands.
But each made excuses, for this and for that,
One said, “My hair’s funny,”
and “I can’t wear a hat.”
A second, who resisted, said his nose was too fat!

The king tried reason, and he also tried terror,
but quickly realized that the latter’s an error,
so he promptly decided to appeal to God,
’cause these were strange people, these people of Podd,
for nothing was wrong… though each thought he was odd.

The king finally saw, although quite peculiar,
that the land would be lost — including their ruler! —
if he couldn’t find someone to carry out this task,
but there seemed no one else in his land left to ask.

Yet the Kingdom was saved, it turned out in the end,
all because the king knew that to save his own skin
he would have to step down from his throne, to the street,
and even though he didn’t like his own feet,
he became a great leader by hiding it inside
and he ran ‘cross the hills to the far other side
to bring back an army or some kind of troop
to finish forever this enemy poop.

I guess that is why some are kings, some are not.
We’re all quite the same, and we’re all that we’ve got.

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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My Reality Within A Dream. Poetry by Roderick Dupree

Something about her was different

No words exchanged but she was my woman of interest.

It was her eyes that guided me to her heart

Her mind was the epitome of art.

Genre: Love

My Reality Within A Dream by Roderick Dupree

Something about her was different

No words exchanged but she was my woman of interest.

It was her eyes that guided me to her heart

Her mind was the epitome of art.

Never made for perfection

Definitely built for protection.

She stands in independence

With a walk of confidence

Attitude so modest

With the soul of a goddess.

Not one for lust but to be loved

Not one for games but to be cuffed.

Invests in herself to become the best she’s destined to be

Now that’s exquisite wine and not just another cup of tea.

Business over pleasure makes her distinguish

When seeking her vision my soul replenish.

Fate then rised upon existence

Once she admired my persistence

Breaking down barriers of resistance

Our love grew nearer in distance.

She’s the type when texts aren’t good enough

Phone calls are valued but end calls makes it rough.

Her smile of gold brings joy into my life

She’s the perfect diamond in the mist of wildlife.

No angel but a queen from a queen

No fantasy but my reality within a dream.

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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Play House. Poetry by John “John Kind” Ravenell Jr.

We think we’re grown don’t we?
Holding hands in public because that’s what lovers do,
We think we know how to love,
But inexperience got us not having a single clue,
To be simply put, we are making a poor attempt at being witty,
Trying to pass off what we have as love, yet too naive to know it’s shitty,

Genre: Romantic Irony

Play House
by John “John Kind” Ravenell Jr.

We think we’re grown don’t we?
Holding hands in public because that’s what lovers do,
We think we know how to love,
But inexperience got us not having a single clue,
To be simply put, we are making a poor attempt at being witty,
Trying to pass off what we have as love, yet too naive to know it’s shitty,

We take relationship advice from what we all call, “other wise”,
You better love me as I say, “other wise” I’m gonna-
Then we spit argue over marble counter tops, trying to buff things out,
No way to try to make it look nice, fights never bring our best side out,
To be simply put, I’m the daddy and she’s the mommy,
We are, who we are, because the roles gives us an organized lifestyle,

All I know is, I just got off from work and mommy you better kiss me,
How was our son? I’m hungry too, what did you get me?
Ah yes, my favorite dish your the best!
And you look especially beautiful for me, and only me, in that sun dress,
And my dearest thinks handsome, she adores me as her hard working man,
To take care of her and secure her is my obligation to her 20 year living plan,

To be simply put, our lives are designed by an idea our parents act out,
We would like to childishly fulfill those roles, but with a plastic door to back out,
Just in case if things take a different pace, becomes too real and less exciting,
But the appeal of love on the internet and reality tv is too inviting,

Who doesn’t play house?

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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Dear Brother, Poetry by Rani Powell

Everyday, when I tell you to be careful,
I’m not saying it just to say it
I’m saying it because this world doesn’t love you, no
Because you are only 8 now but soon you will be older
And then baby boy, the world will be much colder
They will not see you as I do,
with your warm eyes and caramel skin,
with your blue-rimmed glasses and unfunny jokes,
the curls in your hair and easy smile, no.
They see you as a Black Man.

Genre: Family, Love

Dear Brother by Rani Powell

To my brother

Everyday, when I tell you to be careful,
I’m not saying it just to say it
I’m saying it because this world doesn’t love you, no
Because you are only 8 now but soon you will be older
And then baby boy, the world will be much colder
They will not see you as I do,
with your warm eyes and caramel skin,
with your blue-rimmed glasses and unfunny jokes,
the curls in your hair and easy smile, no.
They see you as a Black Man.
As a menace to everything their good, clean society has.
The same society that was built on our father’s blood.
But it does not belong to you and you do not belong in it.

Everyday, when I tell you to be careful
I’m not saying it just to say it
I’m saying it because God help me,
you will not be the next news story
My heart would break to see your name up there with
Anthony, Eric, Freddie, Jordan, Kendrec, Kimani,
Michael, Tamir, Tony, Trayvon, Tyree, Wendell.
You are seen as a threat before you are seen as a person.
Your Blackness scares them.
They have already decided that you are nothing but a hood-rat,
nothing but a child-support baby, nothing but a tagging truant,
sagging pants, gang signs getting thrown up, two gun-shots in the air,
Crips and Blood running in the streets of a people who have already
breathed life and soul into this country.

Everyday, when I tell you to be careful,
I’m not saying it just to say it.
I’m saying it because your skin makes you a target.
And all it takes is ignorance, a bullet and a badge
to take you away from me.

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
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Lottie, we can fly!, Poetry by Elaine Longworth

Lottie and I had our garden party, with teddy and Barbie
We ate jam butties and chocolate bunnies,
We made them together, it seemed we would be forever
Lovely jammy and chocolate messy
I swept her up, laughing, heading through the gate, late
As always, stealing time, making it mine
We ran through the field, a path revealed
By other scurrying, worrying feet running to the beat of life

Sky so blue, a warm breeze as soft as a feather

Genre: Inspirational

Lottie, we can fly! by Elaine Longworth

Lottie and I had our garden party, with teddy and Barbie
We ate jam butties and chocolate bunnies,
We made them together, it seemed we would be forever
Lovely jammy and chocolate messy
I swept her up, laughing, heading through the gate, late
As always, stealing time, making it mine
We ran through the field, a path revealed
By other scurrying, worrying feet running to the beat of life

Sky so blue, a warm breeze as soft as a feather
Our hands entwined we slowed to a walk together
Starlings watched us, Jackdaws seemed to forbid us
Sky Larks sweeping and swooping before us
Greeting us with merry chitter chatter, scattering around us

Why do birds sing? Soft voice imploring the all knowing
Lottie they sing to remind us and invite us
To follow what makes our heart sing
Why do birds fly? Lottie they fly to remind you and I
We too have wings to fly,
Wings to make our dreams soar high in the sky
Bringing them and us alive with the beat of our heart song
Lottie, we can fly! Scooping her up, whizzing her round
Her feet off the ground, giggling to our momentary heart song

 

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