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Planting Seeds, Poetry by Abu B. Rafique

Four:
If I told you that I want all of this to be like this thirty years from now,
Would you call me hopeful, or stupid?
Do you think we’ll stay? Or will one of us go?
If I get lost,
I hope to go in a circle,
And wind up back with you.”

Genre: Nostalgia, Wanderlust, Youth, Love, and Melancholy

Planting Seeds by Abu B. Rafique

One:

Sometimes I wonder, if I’m remembering something hard enough, are you remembering it too?

It’s like smoke now, slightly sweet,

And overwhelming,

And enough to make me dizzy if there’s too much.

I saw you in your pale yellow sundress with a tired smile on your face,

And the sun setting around us filled the sky with a pink light that made you shimmer as you walked,

I wished then that I didn’t have to leave anymore.

You and I walked two miles up the dirt road to your home,

And you showed me your grandfather’s apple trees,

You asked where I was going and then told me where you would like to go.

I remember the smell of,

Apples,

Your perfume,

And the candles inside.

You gave me a necklace before I left and you seemed to understand.

I’ve met many since then, but none seem to UNDERSTAND.

I think of you,

Often.

Two:

Where should we go?

Should we go,

North? To Canada?

Or west? To California?

Maybe south? To Georgia?

Should we live up in the mountains?
Out in the desert?

In a lonely cabin?

Does it have to be “we?”

You can stay,

I don’t like me, so I’ll go.

And keep going.

Maybe, eventually, I’ll be able to get away,

Maybe not.

I guess I’ll go,

And find out.

Three:

You sit there in your denim jacket,

And black jeans,

And black boots,

And colorful hairbands on your fingers,

With your hair tied back in a ponytail.

And you want to give a chance,

And get a chance,

And stop pushing away,

Or running away from,

Everyone who tries to love you.

Four:

If I told you that I want all of this to be like this thirty years from now,

Would you call me hopeful, or stupid?
Do you think we’ll stay? Or will one of us go?

If I get lost,

I hope to go in a circle,

And wind up back with you.”

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Michael Myers And The corps of five Disney princess, Poetry by Drew Price

You see he was better finding things on his victims to play with drawn to find there’s not much less of perfect on the face of a Disney princess. He loved Ariel’s tail you see, he was so infatuated by the slimy scales the way they ripped and tore against the cold touch of sharp metal steel that he loved oh so much to bury deep into the flesh of a struggling victim, Ariel did just that for him, struggle. He ripped her hair out bit by bit… it was seductive to him. He started far before she was dead so you could see the pain that painted across her canvas face, it was a masterpiece to Michael.

Genre: Dark, Life, Society

Michael Myers
And
The corps of five Disney princess

by Drew Price

He worked his way over to princess Jasmine. He’d stripped her of all her clothes and she lay naked, but not in a sexual way, no, he wanted to see the blood pour from her body as he skinned her like an animal because he just loved her complexion. He loved the thick yet subtle curve of her eyebrows they made him smile, something he hadn’t done in a while. He loved pulling on her hair until her scalp began to bleed but only while she was alive so he could hear the horror in her scream like the first drop on a roller coaster, he liked it that way. This rush of electricity, this rush of energy, this torture… for himself and his victims.

He made his way over to Snow White… pale as the moon on a pitch black night he choked her into a blood moon. All slob and tears wet fears that struck her face at a grab of a hand he loved it that way. His hands cold, his hands power his hands blood and breaking bones that enjoyed the feeling of their caving in its palm it was electrifying. The fear reflected off her eyes into his as pure amazement, how much power he had over these beautiful women.

He next turned to princess Tiana. She seemed the most unphased by all the horror she’d seen so he gouged out her eyes for not respecting his art like, “god damn I’ve turned them into masterpieces only god can reconstruct and you show no interest how dare you” she sat in the presence of a terrifying man but she sat paralyzed in strength no scream until the harsh textures of his fingers met the back of her eyelid like a tight grip on a fast ball. She called on every god that came to mind like “Oh god, sweet Buddha, baby Jesus god of the tress and the bees the land I stand on god of the earth mother earth, somebody, help me!” Somebody hear her cry. This man he watched her die in one quick sigh she had her last breath like the pain was too much so she had her last breath like she couldn’t play strong right before that last breath, like in that last breath you’d heard her curse this man and curse those hands all cold and blood bone breakers like the end all power reigned through this man and.. At this moment it did.

He made his way over to Rapunzel. He loved the length of her hair how it curved down her back the mystery in her stare not being able to tell whether she was dead or alive, but the twitch in her left eye showed she could feel it all. Every cut and rip every slap and hit he like to see how red she could get. He hung her upside down and played in her hair until the blood in her body dripped through her nostrils and eyes dying her hair a cherry tone.

So that was his story. He took pleasure in the horror of torture.

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Reflection, Poetry by Barbara Hunt

She disappears as the dark abyss swallows her whole As she sits alone heart breaks with her soul filled with emotions

Genre: Dark, Death and Hurt

Reflection by Barbara Hunt

Darkness shadows and fear flash there jagged teeth towards her
She disappears as the dark abyss swallows her whole As she sits alone heart breaks with her soul filled with emotions
She looks at herself in the mirror and sees not herself but the dead girl smile back she shatters the mirror and drops to the floor uttering her name in the silence

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Ocean’s Bottom, Poetry by Antonia Giordano

I see a girl standing there lonely and wonderful

standing on the edge of vast space

No one coming to save or tell her to stop

She never called for that kind of attention

One deep breathe of hesitation betrays her fear

Genre: Fear/Motivational

Ocean’s Bottom by Antonia Giordano
I see a girl standing there lonely and wonderful

standing on the edge of vast space

No one coming to save or tell her to stop

She never called for that kind of attention

One deep breathe of hesitation betrays her fear

but she stands there and as she jumps,

she cant’ see where she lands

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She’s a man, Poetry by Bryan Chan

Unloving and unnurturing,

A woman without a woman’s touch,

Potential mother but then again, not very much

Limited by her ideals, faminism?

No, supremanism

Domination is all she seeks to clutch.

Genre: Love, Heartbreak, Rhyme, Relationship

She’s a man, by Bryan Chan

With trashy ideology and principles,

Her words are bland and hollow,

Mindless substance which have been borrowed.

Unloving and unnurturing,

A woman without a woman’s touch,

Potential mother but then again, not very much

Limited by her ideals, faminism?

No, supremanism

Domination is all she seeks to clutch.

The personality of a wall,

Cold and hard,

not very far from her standards,

white-washed and scrawny,

Crumbling and sickly,

Thinks herself high and mighty,

But in reality,

She is far from great,

The chinese have made far better gates.

She inspires love and passion,

But so do pies,

And cakes,

Not to mention chocolates,

But hers is a poison one cannot negate,

It is mistaken love,

Lest should I think it fate,

She leaves a rush of resentment,

An after taste of hate.

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No Question, Poetry by Saintswest

Are the stars in the sky?
Are the birds in the trees?
Is there green on the leaves?
Is the water still blue?
Why do fish swim upstream?
Why does everything
Seem to not mean a thing
When I am with you?

Genre: Love

No Question
by Saintswest

Will the sun rise today?
Will the air smell as sweet?
Can the days be longer?
Could this love be stronger?
Has the rain begun to fall?
Are there people here at all?
Why can’t I see a thing?
Why do I only see you?

Are the stars out tonight?
Is it cloudy?
Is it bright?
I am here with one tonight
And I’ve never been more right
And you love me like I do
And I love you like you do
How could I have ever wondered
Why these eyes see only you?

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WATCH FEBRUARY 2016 Poetry Readings

Best of Poetry performance readings in February 2016. Performed by Kaleb Alexander and Maya Wolosyzn

Stranger In Love� – Poetry Reading by Poetess Chantelle Cherie

Marvelous Universe Poetry Reading By Karina Pinella

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Assumptions – Poetry Reading by Denise P Isaac

#1 fan Poetry Reading by Stephanie Crosby

Paris � The Atrocity 13th November 2015

FRAGMENTS Poetry Reading by Melissa R Mendelson

Forgiveness Poetry Reading by Sherille Williams

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***

Director/Producer: Matthew Toffolo
Casting Director: Sean Ballantyne
Editor: John Johnson

Hustlin’ Fo’ Love by Jai FromDaWay

I stay nickel, dime and dubbin’
Caressin’, Kissin’ and Huggin’
A penny fo’ ya thoughts but what’s
the price fo’ ya lovin’?
To me you’re priceless and worth
all the strugglin’

Genre: Street Poetry

I stay nickel, dime and dubbin’
Caressin’, Kissin’ and Huggin’
A penny fo’ ya thoughts but what’s
the price fo’ ya lovin’?
To me you’re priceless and worth
all the strugglin’
Trying to flip like to love
I’m emotionally hustlin’
I got roses, long walks and romantic talk
all bundled up.
I’m slingin’ quality time fo’ cheap
I’m trying to double up.
I’m on the grind, O.T., and you be the re-up.
I’m pullin’ all-nighters.
Just hit me…I’ll be up.
If lovin’ you is a crime, then I’m taking the plea.
The charge is hustlin’ fo’ your love and I plead guilty!

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Mending Mother by Leslie Caplan

I looked deeper in
aching to abyss to understand
And I understoodtand
And I understood

Genre: Healing, Family, Relationship

Mending Mother by Leslie Caplan

I found a photograph at the bottom
of an unopened box
Crackling cardboard dried out from
being rained on
I reached in
Sifting through old letters,
scrawls of random thoughts,
poems that turned into
a thousand page book

I poured it out
onto the open floor
let the air in
let the stream of yellow light
spill in
and wrap around each keepsake

At the bottom,
under the fold and crease where the box
holds itself together
was a picture
At first I thought it was me
But it was you
as a young, budding woman
in a black and white capture
of your innocence
How hopeful your eyes gleaned
how deep the longing for what’s ahead

I held the photo in my hand
sat under the window and let the light
magnify your face
I saw myself
The face of the womb in which I grew
before I was even a thought
in your world
So long before an injection of insane
came in and corrupted your radiant youth
and the palpable wisdom
held in the cup your hand

So young and ivory skinned
Plump in cheeks and heart
And even though the picture was black and white
I saw the rosy tint of freshness
on your face
Your rich light almond eyes
I could see right through

You were lovely.

To the core of my holding
Soft before the world you inhaled
made you bitter to a pucker
Your hands mirrored mine
The shape of your brow
the shine of your lips long before
they dried out from all the salted cries you swallowed

You were beautiful.

I looked deeper in
aching to abyss to understand
And I understood
That somewhere along that paved line of your life
your heart caved
and shattered into too many pieces
to pick up and put back together
and you had to pretend
to be unbroken
pretend to love the man you married
and bore three daughters with
that you pretended you knew what to do with

And all you could do
was raise them inside
the shattered chamber you held together
for the sake of their survival
praying they’d thrive
in spite you

and I did.

I can speak for myself and say I did
And I took what was good in you
sane and whole in you
and I found my way
with what you did give me

life
courage
fire

and eyes so deep they blink
off the stillness of a photograph
and shed a tear so fertile
it grows life
mends and heals and breathes into
my whole life
within and without you
my life in honor
of you.

www.courageousheartinmotion.com

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http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/10/10/brighton-clock-tower-redecorated-poetry-by-anna-tizard/

SAFEKEY FIRST by Barry Fairweather: http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/09/25/safekey-first-poetry-by-barry-fairweather/

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http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/16/needed-space-poetry-by-lorraine-ferns

VISITING GEMINI, LindaAnn Loschiavo:
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/07/visiting-gemini-poetry-by-lindaann-lo-schiavo/

PAIN, Muthoni Ngige:
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/23/pain-poetry-by-muthoni-ngige/

HATE ME LIKE YOU LOVED ME, by Mariah E. Wilson:
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/16/hate-me-like-you-loved-me-poetry-by-mariah-e-wilson/

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