Thinking up castles, by Roxanne Arvizu

I can clean my room!
There is so much to do!
Like put away my skates
I better tie my shoes!

Sometimes on rainy days
I hide under covers
Pretending that its bed time
Praying no one discovers!

Me under and over, on top
in a ball
Just dreaming away
and feeling so tall

In a magical land
with fairies and friends
playings games with such fun
I hope it never ends!

I see that you’re cleaning
and I can help too!
almost finished with a tea party
with kittens that mew!

I am big now
My room I can clean!
Just a little longer here..
I do love to dream?

Thinking up castles
and kites on a string
ladybugs dancing
fairies with wings

apples and cherries
on trees galore
butterflies, flowers
ponies and more

A cottage so perfect
that everything rings
the staircase has windows
to gardens that sing

So happy with glee
in such pure delight
the fireflies dance
a ballet every night

knowing, believing
Everything is my friend
from the moon to the stars
to the great river bend

I want to clean my room
I promise I do
But there is a farm and a barn
and ranch maybe two?

Where the cows
love to tell a story they do!
to me, and the monkeys,
and four kangaroos

There is a garden of flowers
filled with books that I’ve read
What fun! All of these places
that dance in my head

in this garden
with flowers
plus more
I dream up more dreams
where i’m doing my my chores!

I look up at the sky
and dream dreams
all day
of what I will become?
the instruments I’ll play

On top of mountain,
Then a boat that I row
My thoughts are so BIG
like a giant rainbow!

Then out from the covers
Rarrr! I am brave!
like a lion well rested
I emerge from my cave!

I’m ready to help Mommy!
what can I do?
Mommy understands
because she loves me SO much
and I love her too.


Read Poem: PEOPLE LIKE US, by Gladys Muturi

Genre: Humanity
There are people like us
Dress like us
Look like us
Think like us
Better yet they want to be like us
But they’re not us
They bleed like us with the same red color
But their type is not the same
Their skin is not the same
Could we be the same?
Why can’t they have same hearts?
And not divide into parts
They have hands just like us
Holding each hand by hand
They breathe like us
in the same ozone air, we breathe in
What makes them so special?
They are strong like us
They are brave like us
And they are like us
What’s the difference?
They are humans
People like us
They have heavy hearts like us
Some want to cry with us
Some want to laugh with us
Some want to hate
Most want to love
Why can’t we be in love? Is there love?
Will it ever enough?
Like you and I,
We smile to make our moments worthwhile
Do you see?
People like us
will learn to be who they are
will learn to struggle and strive
will redeem and live again
Born Again
will learn to love again
They love us,
We love them,
I love them

Poetry Reading: He Looks Human To Me, by Elly Paul A. Tomas

Performed by Val Cole

Producer/Director: Matthew Toffolo

Festival Moderators: Matthew Toffolo, Rachel Elder

Casting Director: Sean Ballantyne

Editors: Kimberly Villarruel, Ryan Haines, John Johnson

Festival Directors: Rachel Elder, Natasha Levy

Camera Operators: Ryan Haines, Temitope Akinterinwa, Efren Zapata, Zack Arch

Read Poem: Generation, by A. Brown

To have Strength to persevere
in a time filled with:
peer pressure,
envy and hate,
is a modern-day miracle.
I’ve come to realise,
that the greater the blessing,
the greater the obstacle.
There was a glass ceiling,
until it was broken by
desire not to be,
There are many opportunities,
but only one chance.
Father, help me,
I pray thee.
When disappointments come,
Please help me
to respond with integrity.
I don’t want to be,
another statistic,
whose life ends in tragedy.
You have never left our side.
Your promises are true.
Lord, I need you,
and our generation does too.

-A. Brown
Copyright © 2019 A. Brown. All rights reserved.

Read Poetry: A Letter, by божидар ПАНГЕЛОВ

I’m writing a letter to you.
It’s in a maze. Like me.
Surely you’ve seen the Perseids.
Above the sea.
It’s the same with the words,
which I’m writing or have written.
I don’t remember.
And they are always another.
Not those ones which I’d like to say.
Or I’ve said?
I don’t remember.
I’ve abandoned the thought
like a traveler who is walking
to a harbor.
The ships depart there.
Further and further.
Further …
May I see you,
how you’re walking along the little cobble
which I haven’t passed in,
to meet you and to tell you
the love is one.
I don’t remember if I said this to you.
In fact, I don’t know if it’s where
one should pass through to somewhere.
I don’t know if you’ve seen
The Perseids and the sea.
I don’t remember.
If I write anything else
but one –
I don’t remember.

Read Poem: Requiem in Orbit, by Nick Johnson

The pillars of fire ignited the sky spreading an ebony cloud of death that quickly engulfed the glowing blue and green orb floating in the infinity of space. All over the planet, the bright clusters of lights that had once stood as a testament to the power of man were smothered by darkness. To the men and women watching from their observatory on the edge of the cosmos the lights dotting the surface of the Earth were more than just the burning glow of civilization, the illumination emitted by billions of lives. These lights were a reminder of their homes, of their families, of their lives, and in only a matter of minutes, it was all gone.

For the astronauts on board the international space station, the burning red flurry of atomic explosions was like a silent fireworks show. They were deaf to the Earth shaking roar of the blasts, the howl of the scorching nuclear winds that were carrying the screams of billions across the dying world, and just like a fireworks show the pyrotechnics eventually stopped, and everything went dark. They floated in silence. The only sound from their communications equipment was the static transmitted by a dead world.

The gravity of the apocalypse instantly crushed the brave souls of the cosmonauts. Everyone was dead, and everything was gone forever. There was no way home. The space station they inhabited that once symbolized the accomplishments of an entire species had become their titanium tomb, and while their families were instantly incinerated on the ground below they would be subject to the slow death of starvation. In due time the cold specter of desperation would find its way into the hearts and souls of the astronauts. The once revered and respected men and women would try in vain to delay their descent into oblivion by consuming the only things they had left, each other.