Wild imagination, by Ezzy Callender-Braithwaite

My frontal lobe crafts a path to find an apposite residence ​
for the fields of lavender provoked my limbic system kindling fine motor skills to ​
zoom into high gear swerving over Mount Everest’s most southern hemisphere, ​
Plummeting at warp speeds to crash perhaps into the rapid waterfalls, ​
But there is a tributary in Egypt’s river that’s swelling to the overflow, ​
Triggering the cortex to hover in excitement, like frantic butterflies fluttering in ​
unison, ​
Distressing the frontal lobe, how it throbs faster than the heart’s rhythm, ​
An impulse one too much! Darkness creeps quickly, dwarfing the thinking quotient ​
shutting down the speed of light, ​
Reverse! ​

River, mountain, lavender, butterflies, field, ​
The stroke of beauty vanishes, taken away, compromised, gone! ​
But the shell still exists, the light is on, that means someone is home! Knock Knock! ​
Any one home? ​

Do you understand the words coming out of my mouth? ​
Can you follow my fingers from left to right, from right to left? ​
Smile for me, I see the droop on your face, ​
Let me show you an unframed picture, my daughter once wanted to visit this place. ​
I see by the sparkle in your eyes you recognize the lavender fields! Yes? ​
Take it easy now, be encouraged I will stay with you as you get back to where you ​
need to be, ​
We will need two special luggage, one for our clothes, the other for miscellaneous ​
tools and we are off! ​

Bring a blanket to keep you warm from the cold Himalayan nights ​
A waterproof suit for to keep dry when we near the waterfalls. ​
A measuring tape to record the length of Egypt’s river, ​
A net, to harvest the frenzied butterflies ​
Music to calm the palpitating heart and remember a dagger to cut loose this wild ​
imagination of yours.

Rise, by Larissa Xavier

Rise every day,

day after day,

once and for all.

Rise like the sun

from the dusk to dawn.

Rise like the ocean waves

moving up and down.

Rise like the trees,

which from seeds they arise.

Rise and shine.

And still,

like the air,

to the sky,


Rise from the ashes,

Rise from the horizon,


Invariably you gotta rise.

Rise to the top

until there’s no other way


to rise.

Rise and fall

all the time.


at the end of the day,

we are all


early or late.

So rise up!

Larissa Xavier

POETRY READING: A Giant Moment, by Jean Buschmann

Performed by Allison Kampf


BORED in San Jose, our home in the South Bay, we ventured to The City that day.
– It wasn’t ordinary, no way!
Sunny and bright, not a cloud in sight.
– For the foggy City By The Bay, that’s rare for May, let alone April Fools’ Day!
But it was no joke, so we were seriously stoked at the thought of some fun in the sun.
The grand opening of PacBell Park was our mark – an exhibition game between the
Yankees and Giants. Otherwise known as “The Spankees,” to their defiants.
As a native New Yorker raised in Queens, it was The Mets for whom I placed all bets.
But as if to put our love to the test, my Nor-Cal man loved The Bronx Bombers best.
– And no, that’s not jest.
So that was the original aim of our quest, but before long we’d learn it might not be best.
– Since such seemed the goal of all the rest.
And so, with slightly deflated hearts, we parked by The Palace of Fine Arts.
– Far far away from where we’d hoped to spend that day.
We then began to stroll around, stopping at every fascinating sight we found.
– Talking and laughing along the way, we could hardly believe we’d walked to the Bay!
Not ’til we saw my blistered feet, were we finally ready to take a seat.
That’s when we noticed something funny – all the ATMs were out of money!
“Uh-oh” we said to one another, ‘cuz neither of us had stashed cash for the other.
Hungry, with nearly no money at all, there was not even a cab for us to call.
That’s when something inside me said, “It’s time to get up and keep moving ahead!”
To that, my hubby scratched his head, not at all sure how I’d endure.
But despite my feet, I wasn’t ready to admit defeat.
As we neared the revered new stadium, out of my mouth came a strange shout…
“When we turn the corner, we’ll get tickets to the game!” – To which my man jokingly retorted,
“Are you insane?”
Then to his shock, I locked eyes on a smiling stranger, who waved me over to his Range Rover.
“I’ve got two tickets, if you need ’em.” He said. “That’d be great…if you can wait.” And so, I explained
our twisted fate.
The stranger stepped right up to the plate. Without so much as a pause, as if completely compelled
by our cause.
When he jotted down his address, I knew that we’d been truly blessed. Then I noticed his wife was
So I smiled reassuringly, as if to say – “The check will soon be on the way.”
…And that’s the true story of that April 1st day!

A poetic memory by

POETRY READING: Dear Mema, by Sienna Feruzi

Performed by Allison Kampf

I’m paralyzed,
You’re in the front of my eyes
And you won’t. go. away.,
You were my light,
You were the shadow in my shade,
The breeze on my hottest days,
The pink and gold of a sunrise haze,
You were the ground under my feet,
You were the smile folks loved to greet,
I feel you now when I see injustice,
I feel you when I see true love,
I know you are the voice of my happiness and patience;
You’ll always be my baptismal dove
And the one who encouraged me to stay confident and kind
Who taught me to never be left behind
For I am special, just how I am.
I’ll always have that Avery glam.
I’m paralyzed but I’m motivated
Because of you I’ve become elated
To have this life I have to live,
If only with you, for you I could give
Another walk along the bridge
Or through the park
Or at the store
I’ll always, always want some more.
But I’ll have the time, I’ll get the chance,
Once I meet you again.
I love you.

Poetry Reading: If Only, by Sienna Feruzi

Performed by Allison Kampf


I yearn to lead you to a place unseen

A Wonder Land divine

Like a dream

Another experience

So serene.

No chaos, in or out,

No hooligans or “fooled again”s runnin’ about

No insecurities, grudges, aches or doubt

Just something new and never known

Something beyond the Mind: blown.

Something money can never buy

And somewhere for lovers, no matter how shy;

A place where lovers are always free:

I want to give you Eternity.

I want to give you the world and so much more,

But you don’t understand what’s in store.

For you don’t know how God loves you.

And you don’t know what my God can do.

My God will never judge or abandon,

But somehow, He’s misunderstood and taken for granted….

I only wish that you’d be willing

To see that my God’s so thrilling

I only wish He’d help open those eyes,

For I can only imagine how you’d be soooo surprised

God doesn’t just change– he heals and magnifies lives!

My God can remove the Darkness that is bothering you

And He wants to be Your God, too…

He can prove how much stronger and Greater is He,

If only,

If Only–

You could see.

This yearning’s my love,

But it stems from Him,

It’s all for you,

Nothing about it’s grim.

This yearning’s

Not about my love and me

If only,

If Only–

You would see.

Then you could have my jubilee.

This Wonder Land’s

Not just in another world,

It becomes real today in many, in adults, boys and girls.

It becomes real to all,

As long as they pray and answer His call.

He wants salvation not just for a select few-

Sadly not all accept it,

But I’m begging you.

I need to take you

To a place unseen…

A Wonder Land divine

Like a dream–

This burning urge is supernatural, I can’t explain–

I just want to ease up your pain

And so does God–

He always has…

He’s done it for me,

Life won’t be easy,

But overall, He’ll set you free:

If only,

If Only–

You would see!

POETRY READING from Poet Kitt Fedoroff

Performed by Allison Kampf


Sally Gossamer Wingstep heard a most curious sound,
It came from beyond the wilderness copse, over, about, and around;
When Sally flew around the last tree a wonder she could see
A greying Fablehaven hound softly baying at a prone bumblebee.
Sally risked to go closer to inspect this quite usual sight—
Instantly she flew for Johnny H. Beekeeper in a quite frenzied flight.
Can he find the resolution for a bee brought down so low?
If he lacks the right solution, where then could she ever go?
Johnny was tending keen to the so new garden green—
Petite pois on the trellis, coifed and coiled like you’ve never seen,
Tomates on the vine, carrots long and tall, blueberries arching high;
And Johnny’s prized honeycombs, so grand as to make a master bumble bee sigh,
And cousin-once-removed baby Amber Grace with the prettiest wee fairy face
Was flutter-skurrying in and out of plants and was just all over the place!
“Johnny, O Johnny”, Sally cried to her family friend with sure pride
“Come quick with me to see this poor poor bee, laid low and curled to one side.”
Finding hard-working Katje to attend their baby Amber Grace
Sally and Johnny flew straight off to the far away wooded place.
With simple mind and quiet grace, John approached the curled up bee
But twas nothing more could be done, was plain and simple to see.
“Let’s take him home” offered John to Sally’s slow honoring tears,
Nodding, Sally looked for brambles to build a sled as for one’s peers.
A far off buzz grew nearer, the Wild Hive had come to find their brother;
A rippling peace reigned as Bumble Bee and Fairy regarded one another.
John and Sally backed away bowing as the Bumble Bees took up the reins;
The bees would long remember how those aloof fairies had taken such pains.
The old Fablehaven hound bayed again as the sled disappeared around the wooded copse;
Sally and John made their long slow way back to home and the fairy-grown crops.
Sally made her thank you’s and kissed wee Amber Grace;
Quite a wonder to see how Honor and Love forever bless this place.

Genre: Fantasy

Poetry Reading: The Long Road, by Shobana Gomes

Performed by Allison Kampf


At first glance, it seemed easy,
I, the traveler on a weary road to perhaps fame,
I tamed my mind to think in ways one would want to impress,
But like a toddler taking baby steps,
I fall, struggling to get back on my feet.

The route I took seemed all too ready to steady that feet,
Through stumbling tears, I made my smiles just as effortless,
I cried first, then I laughed,
Isn’t laughter sometimes created from tears?

The road was long, the road was windy,
The road took me to eternity,
I wondered at some point if I would reach eternity, yes, eternity,
But stop I did not, I traveled through time, I traveled through eternity.

There were days when I thought “not a second to waste”
Until one day I realized that it took time to reach eternity,
It was the long road I had chosen,
Through much travail, none of which man can know or hear of.

I trudged with time on the long road to eternity once,
Right now, I face, I stare ahead,
I have not seen the end,
No, there is no end,
I have only been on the trail to the “beginning.”


Poetry Reading: LOCKED TREASURE, by LannaEvolved

Read by Allison Kampf


In the box
I am sworn to secrecy

His gaze against the shadows of the bars
has grown so weary
it deflates in fades
Suppressing the entirety of his remorse

‘To him, there seem to be a thousand bars
and back behind those one thousand bars no world’.
The soft
The righteous
The other step
runs away with the breath of space
In a time undefined by reason
In the smallest of shifts and turns, circling
moves like a dance of strength around a core
in which an eccentric
stands upright
In time there always remains a question
The faith that transcends
The magic curtain slides
from side to side
soundlessly — He is there.

So many possibilities to be free from the beginning, and uproot the past of burden burgeoning like a flower’s ability to withstand change in unpredictable soil and yet still feel alive.

He expands through the tension
the calmness of limbs — and stems
in the heart which fate prescribes to be a mighty will stood parallel to them.

Love is unintentional decision making upon the choosing of a
Solidified destiny
A clairvoyant

Bat wings in my heart
Calm bleeding
Smiling full

This life is my teacher
Take me to a room
without an education please

Put down a book that moves the table and reads the script from my last piece

Not the other way around

Magical thinking describes our destiny, the rest is fate
I’m not here to school you

Death happens
And clutter builds into a false enamel
Eventual decay
If not maintained

Fleeing toxicity is a freedom beyond understanding

Outside the peripheral
grief spins me upside down

The last flower petal remains
With it’s scent forever reminding
Of our song
In solitude

When the streets are lit with lamp designs
And Arabian nights alive in the instrumentals
My senses

Living within our home without
The perfect combination

Of chivalry, compassion, and attention to the details
This is an emotionally available man

Sin is a perception
Redemption; clarity
Pure mist
The clearance of past partners
Leaves my space
To make rooms upon the doors newly turned
for an atmosphere of hope

The written letter reads as I write:

To my love, I love you with all my being.
For You are everything I asked for when
My mind left me
My consciousness awoke for you to be found by me now.
And that cannot be duplicated.
For I am Gratefully blessed. By you.
To Our eternity.
Cheers to our eternity.

I’m with you.

Poetry Reading: BENCH SOLILOQUY, by Paula Shaffer

Poem read by Allison Kampf


This is my Bench; I deem her to be. She minds the Sea dutifully; in silence, splendidly.
Firmly in place on this rock jagged cliff, barrier free, scene panoramic
for the eye’s inner theme: keen, translucent clarity.

This strong tawny throne atop pedestal high, my toes exposed cannot touch
ground; my bare legs swing like those of a child from long time ago. How I had
forgotten how simple fun can so easily be; grace should be said here, deservedly.

The Sun in brilliance stakes his scorched claim; Sister Wind fans back chillingly.
The Ocean’s spittle dampens my face, cools my arms, taunts me to
dare even to breathe. I sit in awe, my smallness aware, how grateful to be.

“Consume me,” says this wild Lady Sea, serving salty martinis, a sun-kissed tease.
So I imbibe, with desire athirst, until drunk with beauty and wonder entwined,
consume her elixir in greed, one last sip to satisfy time.

Two seagulls banter just who will be first to dive into frothy waves white, slicing,
taunting, gravity suspend, to finally break free, a daring bait tease,
vying for bounties now richly exposed, hidden below the shimmery gleam.

Snippets of laughter, tinkling chimes, pepper the sea salt air; and then Sister Wind’s
bellowing roar: “I will be heard,” insistent demand. I hear her song,
passion intent made perfectly clear; I willingly obey, submissively.

A toddler set free lithely skips on the Ocean’s soft edge; wet sand tracing tiny toes
tanned, mapping the claim of this little girl’s glee. A new path to wander and fearlessly be:
magic unleashed, whimsical, untamed, wildly free.

A golden-crowned pigeon in wedding dress white regally sashays into my
sight. “Look at me,” she coos, boastful in sheer royalty. I acquiesce, then bow
in humility to Queen of the Bench, Her Most of Royal High Majesty.

My lips taste the salt of this deep turquoise Sea, seasoned just so, a chef’s risque
dream. Sand, salt and sea; recipe of senses set loose, how simple, how free,
like lovers embraced in a delicate kiss, tender in its intensity.

I long to sail to this Ocean’s far end, taste her salt-sweetness, chilled champagne tea,
reach the magical side of a wanderer’s dream, that thunderous
stream, rushing to wherever it leads, however far faraway is.

Yes, this Bench is mine, and always will be. My solace, reprieve, when tears are on brim;
exposing a world that few really see, dare comprehend, baring her secrets

Read Poem: Scared, by Michael Jackson

You should be scared

Scared of symmetrical smiles
of mystical eyes
white teeth
breath purified

Of have a nice days
the month of May
Everything okay?
Yeah, everything’s okay

Of positive thinkers
steady blinkers
gnomes in gardens
clean-cut shavers

Of old ragged flags
of I love you shags
of trend-setters
in trendy rags

Of the hopers
the delayers
these slayers
of evildoers

Of I wish you were heres
of the small-talkers
the how’s the family
the licenced stalkers

Of nice tattoos
of blue suede shoes
of decorative punks
with baby cunts

Of happy parents
at children’s parties
of bored housewives
who dreams of hippies

Of A graders
degraded B graders
pissed off C graders
and the maybeers

Of sofa violence
on Mary Jane
of hobby pain

Of live and let live
it’s all the same
just stay out of my fucking garden
and play the game

Of polished lines that seem to know
that points away towards the foe
Rhymes that time perfectly
Yeah, you should be scared of me

I’m just kidding
have a nice day