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Best Film Poems

Below are the all-time best Film poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of film poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Definition & Discussion of Film Poems
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See also: Best Famous Poems

Details | Film Poem | |

The Farewell Performance

His rheumy eyes film over and he brushes away a tear
with the age-spotted back of his hand.
He watches himself as a young man –
handsome, vigorous, full of joie de vivre.
The members of his orchestra now arthritic.
Or ashes long since scattered into oblivion,
like the beautiful soprano in the film.
But for the duration of the archive footage
they are all young again.
The film ends and their philharmonic youth
is silent memory once more.
He struggles to press rewind but his gnarled finger 
presses fast-forward by mistake.
He thinks that time has been on fast-forward
and wishes he could find the rewind control for his life.
With a sigh, he presses play and fades away,
watching his immortal youth.

Details | Film Poem | |

New Future Of The Internet

New Future Of The
Internet


Cable cost are up
too high
You turned to the
internet and so have
I

My Youtube channel
is the way to go
Now I can even make
video shows

I group the videos
to make a show
To bring you the
best of where I go

For kids the mower
and stove videos
I also have vehicles
and some scarecrows

Kids can watch from
morn til night
with lots of things
for a kids delight
							
Light houses, ship
building, and horses
too
Antique barn yards
and tractor pulls
just for you

Aviation, taxidermy,
and crafty wood
works
Viewwithme Youtube
has all the quirks 

The historical homes
make a great tour
Contest and oxen
pulls are never a
bore

Animal friends, I
haven’t forgotten
you
I have horses, dogs,
cows and sheep too

Plenty of petting
pens and milking for
you
And a simple click
is all you have to
do

A lot of shows with
a mix for all
Like demolition
derby or a stunt so
tall

So if you dropped
the cable and you
have a need
I have three
channels for you to
see
 
By: Doris Anne
Beaulieu
     
https://www.youtube.com/user/Viewwithme

Details | Film Poem | |

My Son Moon and Star

            My Son Moon and Star ~

        Approaching the celebration of his Birth 
                cherishing the gift I received 
           within weeks of conception I knew
            something amazing was in Creation ~

            the Stars held a party
            sending me with one of their own  
    Gazing at 3 shooting stars twinkling crossing the sky   
       It was magic  It was destiny taking its flight.  

           In love with an October full moon 
               drawing and painting I liked 
             thinking of Vincent Van Gogh ~
                caught in a loss of time 

          Hours going by as choosing my color  
           a wittness to three falling stars 
             A clear night sky sparkle's
           A once Famous Star was sent 
            inspiring the tiny child inside ~ 

           Never a doubt in my mind at all     
       child bearing was worth any pain received
      yours will be in a pursuit of a dream ~
             one to cherish and hold
          My Son was born the following August ~

    working on the set of Grimm 3rd season this year  
         as the set of Leverage for 3 years .

              Has done a Indie movie here  
             In Paris it was seen and honored
             coming soon filmed in Portland ~
                 "The House of Last Things "

        awaiting the credits , you will see
                        
    1st Assistant Director ~ production assistant 
   
                 My Young Lion Mans dream ~
        A proud mom I watch every show and the credits 

        as foretold in a whisper to me 25 years ago
              My Son &  Moon and Star  
               A name you will all know ~

            Happy Birthday to my creative Son
             you will exist in my heart forever~
                        and thereafter               
                             Mom

Details | Film Poem | |

Leonardo DiCaprio

Dedicated to my love: Leonardo DiCaprio

For how many years have I loved you
I think it has to be about eighteen
We were both so young in those days
But I still longed to be your queen
With each film I fell more in love
With each role you reminded 
"This is what true talent is made of"
Beautiful Leonardo
How keenly I feel
How much I love you
Probably too much, but still
You have shown true beauty
You have shown true grace
You're a perfect specimen
Of the human race
You are of the greatest actors 
Of this generation and more
For there will never be another
That I so much adore

Details | Film Poem | |

THE COLOR PURPLISH

The man on the porch looks out
over his property and towards his daughter.
Nervousness seeps through her plum-dark flesh.
Each eye contact signposts a wicked meditation.
Women are voiceless in those days, yielding to
males and manipulated Bible verses.
Poverty and childbirth loiters the screen.
White men protect segregation and Black men protect pride.
Are there no advocates or women’s lib
in that part of the South? Does anyone care about the mistreated?
Even the animals are sinister, and the young babes.
Horses burdened with stuff amble the pasture.
Fried ham wafts from kerosene stoves.
All the outspoken women are rebellious and prostitutes.
They wear thigh-high skirts, halters, and ruddy rouge.
Men swagger about in cut-price suits, wingtips, and thin-band ties.
They sweat into juke-joints or atop a squeaky bedframe
while records scratch against a dusty needle.
The girl in the front yard runs through hanging sheets
and swings bound books against Mister’s groin.
Her eyes are watery, her hair wild as those purple flowers.
She peers down at her attacker twisted on the red clay
and she shrieks.
Nobody shows up to save her.
She runs off into nothing.

Details | Film Poem | |

SNIPPETS


Your brows are up. The Princess Cinema
is not your choice. C'mon, I don't fit here,
you snort. You, with all your charisma 
and kindness, stand in a short line, fearing

boredom or worse ... pretense. Promise me,
that we aren't about to wallow through
subtitles, you sigh.  Give me clarity,
a story, something that I can relate to.

But the charm catches you by surprise,
a star-struck atmosphere, the seats are new
and the popcorn is still warm. Friendly eyes
laugh, then amusement streams from you

for these Global TV spots simply delight
like each snippet that you joyfully write.  



Details | Film Poem | |

In the Dark of the Strand

Marquees bright, and neon lights, where crowds line up for movie night
We're holding hands, we're in 'The Strand', red velvet carpets guide us in

Popcorn smokes, .. drinking cokes,...  cracking jokes with Bing and Hope
Lamour's along, in her sarong,... With luscious lips, and cigarettes, 
She fills ashtrays with smoking tips, and tosses guys like poker chips


         'Movietone'  intrudes with news, which puts us in somber mood
         Third-Reich goosesteps  march again,  ... an evil presence in the wind...


Cary Grant , (a news reporter),  loves his girl, and his typewriter
"His Girl Friday", plot is witty, sometimes crazy. He embraced his ditzy lady.... 

William Powell and Mryna Loy..., Asta barks, and finds a toy, ...a ploy? a clue?,....
...an earring gold.  The mystery is clearly solved.--  A crimson sun, is rising cold!


        Movietone in black and white,... graphic scenes, where many die


Another night, suspense on chart.  'Correspondent' ,  Joel McCrea. 
Saves Lorraine, and claims the Day.  BUY WAR BONDs !! They'll pave the way

Bogart, Bergman bring to light, a valiant flght , within their grasp
Airline ticket, in her hand, they must part, and do what's right, no questions asked

----

          It's movie night, but you aren't here, a troopship took you far from here
           Allied troops are moving tanks.  I wait for you..God give me strength




       I'm in the Strand, within the dark,  there's no one here to hold my hand

       I'm all alone...........I heard the news....................You left it all in Anzio




_____________________________________
For Contest Chopped III Sponsored by Craig Cornish
11/23/14

Details | Film Poem | |

Princesses

Pretty princesses
Dancing all around
Frolicking through fields
Very beautiful
Just like you!

Details | Film Poem | |

THE SHINING

The old Overlook Hotel has a tradition of sin and devilment,
souvenirs of the rich. Lovely, yes, but its vista is farseeing,
its death grip far-reaching, and certain rooms stay secretive.
A caretaker axed his pretty daughters, now two changelings 
prowl the opulent halls, somberly stare. Stale air is redolent
with slaughter. Something malevolent welcomes strangers.

Jack Torance, writer, is hired to loosen winter’s stranglehold 
on the isolated, closed resort. Jack’s gifted son, Danny, reviles
his disturbing visions and he quakes at bloodbath predictions.
Wendy, Jack’s loyal wife, fights for family, for their welfare
Jack hurt Danny but is now sober. Promises were exchanged.
Kind Mr. Halloran, the chef, sits with the boy and secretly

tells him of the shining, how some detect the sorrow-secretions
of those departed, how the dead replay roles in the strangest
ways. Avoid room 237, he warns, what is there won’t change.
Danny pedals his big wheels fast down the halls of the devil
as his father somehow disappears, going faster and farther 
than the river of blood only the boy sees, a flood of deep red.

Jack is cruel, unstable, and he frightens Wendy. With dread,
she reads his meaty manuscript, horrified by a revealed secret,
knowing they are miles from help, Oh, dear God, they are so far
from civilization and Jack has retyped duplicate words, strangely,
page after unhinged page. Jack returns, says things that are so evil
that she strikes him with a bat, shocked by this psychotic change.

Wendy drags him into the pantry, locks it, praying he’ll change
back. She rests, but Danny screams and he has scrawled REDRUM 
on the door. The mirror deciphers the word, MURDER, as evil
arrives withan ax. What awful things the heart can keep secret,
He has sabotaged the Snowcat; they are powerless and stranded.
Wendy helps Danny escape through a small window, run far,

she weeps as Jack makes kindling of brittle wood, a plot farfetched 
yet one she must face. The mouse she has been for years changes
and she stabs his hand. Heaven knows, the soul is omnifarious,
Halloran comes, Jack leaves to plant the ax, a hero’s chest blooms red.
Danny watches what is left of his father die, cries out from his secret
hiding place, a chase ensues in a frozen maze; good outlives evil.


        So beware all wayfarers, avoid that next interchange
        for secrets fly in the dead of night, traveling the red-eye
        and evil can call home the lost, the touched and the very strange. 







*This is the a very contemporary sestina. It follows a free verse format with plenty of enjambment. The six end words are manipulated to such a point that the 'core' word is  often barely recognizable. 

I decided to challenge myself, show a sweet poet here that a sestina is only as dull as a scribe ALLOWS it to be, that we can stretch the limits of a form, retain most of its nerve system, but give it as much muscle as we wish! Another lovely poet here said to me recently, we write outside the box because there is NO box! 

I like to keep the box. The box is useful. It's a base. I cut windows in it. I paint the box and add a door. I put things I like in the box. I can happily sit in the box and dream or leave the box whenever I choose because it is MY box. The box is not a bad thing, but it IS only a thing...

I will be posting a blog about contemporary sestinas and the development of this one.

So, this is not the best poem I've ever written. LOL. It is actually a B MOVIE. But, I do think that I at least have written a sestina that is not boring and overly-repetitive! 

Hugs to you, Andrea... so, you likey? Or not so likey?

:D 



Details | Film Poem | |

There's No Place Like Home

Once was a gal who felt so alone
Tornato came up rooted farms home
Landed on wicked  witch
Munchkins came out of ditch
Gave dog lollypops instead of bone  

Details | Film Poem | |

young American days


              
                   To be in a young America ~
           visions of a ship upcoming statue of Liberty
               the young lad holding tightly to his Mothers leg
             in all excitement of a new Land to call their own
      celebrations of apple pie and fireworks on the 4th of July 
          
             thoughts of the old Hollywood on screen 
                films without 3-D costing less then a dollar
        Greta , Monroe , Betty Davis eyes tantalizing blue glare
       The Wizard of Oz or books written by Steinbach, Capote, Mark Twain

             exciting new visions of creating new concepts 
                 before Capitalism bought all little ones to bigger
           songs came from the hills of Virginia to the black Mountains
               surfacing in Tennessee for all to hear and wish to see  

          The day when one travelled by car on the road travelled
             every town a story told , learning history we once shed blood 
         American Indian tears to the British man whom choose freedom of taxes
            Boston held a tea party , now wishing they threw out marmite instead
 
         The day when we knew our neighbors and bought homes with a paystub
             Everyone had a chance to make their own with pride , even through wars
        When Martin Luther King stood proudly as did President Lincoln for Freedom 
             How many streets have been named after the man whom had a dream ?

             When milk was delivered on doorsteps in Glass bottles 
                 Babies wanting the very first of the top being cream 
             leaving doors open , watching news with your family at 6pm
                cartoons were shut down and it was now grown up time 

                      Cereal being a cheap snack for after school 
                         school supplies costing twenty dollars 
                      Grandma school clothes shopping for fifty 
                   before the internet , cell phones , and text for hello ~

                         2 week Vacations not afraid to put up Camp 
                Christmas sold in December with the sentiment of Love not money
        a day when if one were sick , you could actually get penicillin without question 
         The Doctor treated everything calling it General Practice no fear of Malpractice 

               Never forgetting our Motor city  
                 Old Ford Trucks Chevrolets and Dodge
                  The city that brought Ottis Reding and Marvin Gaye 
               

                     What happened to us ?  Where did America Go ? 

                   

         
  


Details | Film Poem | |

A Modest Proposal: Sestina

I just want five minutes, just to pitch
My killer screenplay for a killer film.
The hunt for a serial killer
By glamorous profilers, nothing grubby
Or exploitive. Some partial nudity,
(Only if required). There’ll be a sexy
 
Enigmatic hero. First a, er, sexy
Sombre saxophone sighs; on a soccer pitch
Lies the first victim. Tasteful nudity
Reveals one poignant nipple. Open eyes film
Over, dead as moon craters, her grubby
Legs disposed like spoons. She was our killer’s
 
Anonymous mouse. Our glamorous killer’s
Eyes showed her useless terror. Our sexy
Hero runs a slow hand through his grubby
Hair (Cares too much to wash.) Things touch fever pitch
When the next is abducted. We will film
Her wide eyed writhings. Classy nudity
 
Perhaps. Some brief tenderness; nudity
Of course; our hero and his wife. (While killer
Stalks a frail, thinly sketched female. We film
From his point of view her private sexy
Underwear clad body.) I want this pitch
To emphasize our Fincheresque grubby
 
Vision is totally unique. Grubby
Walls connote moral decay. Nudity
Is not exploitive. Our hero pitches
An unorthodox solution. The killer
Is secretly his cross-dressing sexy
Partner. Twisty eh? Never seen on film.
 
Dressed to Kill? No. Nobody’s heard of that film!
(Who remembers the 80s?) In a grubby
Climax, the mousy cross-dressing, sexy
Basement stalks saxophone solos. Nudity
Washes its private underthings. Killer
Underwear is arrested. That’s the pitch!
 
Contains grubby scenes of sexy violence.
Contains killer nudity and mild scenes of extreme peril.
Contains high pitched screams and discarded spoons.

 

Details | Film Poem | |

Nightmare on Elm street

            "My college try at 'You're in a Horror film "


               something has taken over his spirit
                I do think I'll be his next ...

                The land line rings , I answer Hello ? a response with crackling voice.
               " Do you remember me , I am an old friend ? "

                Who is this ? I respond noticing the rain falling hard ..
                a sketchy voice response..

                I am here , can't you see me? 

                "is this a sick Joke ? as I grab a knife for protection"
                I'm calling the police ! This is Harassment ! 

                " The police are here ' ....'in a psychotic response 

                The lights go out , the lightning from the storm has
               hit a tree, I am scarred now, looking for all candles to light my way

                A loud Knock !  Again a knock , I  slam the phone down , fearfully
                 lock the door fast, yet trembling. It's as if someone is breathing 
                 a cold breath with a long finger nail running down my back ..
 
                Knock Knock again , I look out the peep hole, it is the police !
                 Opening the door , The Policeman says " We are checking to see
                 if you are Ok ? You need to let me in and stand behind me "

                  The policeman calls for backup to Elm Street .
                " Someone said they saw a tall man with a mask and knife enter
                 your basement , The storm has blown out the electricity, lines are down "
               
                Grabbing the cordless, I respond " someone just called , scarring me! "
              
               That is not possible , these lines have been down for hours , the person 
                 driving by called prescient on a cell. 
                             

                    I try to get a line and the phone is dead ....

                 The policeman is searching the home with a flashlight .
                  As he goes into the Kitchen I see a large knife in his Back shirt ,
                  Now he is laughing ..the phone rings ..

                 
                 
                         'you're in a Horror movie contest '      
                 
                

Details | Film Poem | |

Glass Faces

Faces trapped beneath, a film of glass
kept their expressions in place through time,
pressed into flesh the forgotten moments.
Another form of memory, labeled and frozen.
Kept their expressions, in place through time
they look on coldly with youthful smiles
Another form of memory, labeled and frozen
The mind is thrown into confusion.
They look on coldly with youthful smiles
pressed into flesh. The forgotten moments?
The mind is thrown into confusion
Faces, trapped beneath a film of glass.

Details | Film Poem | |

An Ellice Island - In search of KindRed Soul

Long miles of tedious journey,
Missing my darling honey.
Travelling impatiently, spend thousands of 
money, 
Hope god will bless me with ma lucky soul 
at this season.

Equatorial island exploring its amazed 
beauty, glittering with immersed grasses.
Wrapped by queens necklaced small lake 
aside, at the outskirts of dalhousie.
My heart dwelled into its god gifted 
creativity,
When the night lime lighted,
Millions of stars scattered around 
charming moon.
As if its was a wondering boon.
Lucky enough for landing with my next 
hop.

Eagerly waiting for my heart chaser,
Girl passed near by, few seconds later.
Flaming beauty mould my soul.
Topped with innocence, ready for my 
auspicious goal.
Her chic appearance,
Her innocent appeal.
Strucking heart raised with high beats..
Awaited for our romantic date in ma 
upcoming meet.

Frequency of our nature matched.
Stolen Eyes of each other were catched.
Strings of our heart whistled 
synchronously.
Everything had happened miraclelously.
I rebelled the three precious words of 
romantic dictionary.
Accepting my red rose, She blushed.

At event of recreation, campfire were 
ignited.
Nobody around us, private moments 
between we two spotlighted.
Playing guitar, she sinked with every beat,
That's the coincidence our eyes again 
meet.
Hand in hand danced with the soothing 
romantic theme,
Sparkling smile on her face beamed.
Getting closer to her, because of her 
fragranced cream.
Expecting the light around us to be dim.

The romantic moment again came,
Flaps of my soul opened for the grand 
dame.
She looked too pretty in her gold lame 
dress, 
My heart awarded her an order of chivalry.
Don't know who are you, but baby you are 
the one, I am in love.
You live in me, You are my love
I feel you in my heart,
You are my world, I just cant stay apart!

Please don't hesitate, please don't lie,
Whatever you feel, my heart can buy!
Angel of life, Its just you.
Completeness in life can't be without you.

Wanna Carry journey happily together.
Tickling nose, Queenly beauty of my white 
leather.
Hold my senses, its caught by you.
Don't let be just memories, wanna feel 
ecstasy of love towards you forever.
Promising to hold your hand throughout 
life in this lovely weather.

Will be your shadow, because your pain 
will be mine.
Its destiny that our heart clicked a 
snapshot of each other's soul.
Stopping by my question, Will you marry 
me, my Kindred Soul?

Details | Film Poem | |

Ode To Dorothy's Ruby slippers

I want Ruby slippers
To walk on the Rainbow
To dance with the Scarecrow 

I want Ruby slippers
To play with the Tin man
To go to the Wizard land

I want Ruby slippers
To fight with the Witch (Wizard of OZ)
And run fast to reach

I want Ruby slippers
To give the Tiger a dose of Doze
To present him a Bunch of Roses

I want Ruby slippers
To make my Dreams True
To visit to OZ as you (Dorothy)

Poetess S. Nadia Azam Shah Bukhari
All Rights Reserved

Details | Film Poem | |

Red Carpet Loneliness

A parting of a crimson sea, to catch a glimpse and swallow whole They nonchalantly steal her soul, with no remorse or thought, but goals to slice her thin, and spill her name, upon red carpet dyed with greed. Beneath stiletto stilts it runs. They think it's fun behind the smile with masquerades to dazzle eyes. Are lonely hearts so worth the prize while clamored lust engulfs and drowns? The flashbulbs light the milky way while voices scream among the fray, and peel the starlight's skin away There is a hole, deep in the dark, as black as death without a spark A friend to trust, or out to gain? To rub a shoulder, hug the fame? She's guided by an elbow's charm, disarmed, by tabloids, drowns alone. They're hell-bent on the mystery, the secrets of her universe A paper doll is thrown to wolves, is just a soul who has rehearsed to fade and die, alone........alone.......with a million flashbulbs drugging her, ...then dragging her.....as she tumbles from the throne....
_____________________________________________________________ 9/12/13 For Contest: "Loneliness" Sponsored by Black-Eyed Susan

Details | Film Poem | |

Vision of the Fall

Visions of Usher,
Seven rooms with which flesh dwells
As reddened as a

Retro rocket ship.
Party to end all parting,
Macabre essence 

Is all prevailing. 
The mayhem of ring-a-rose
Maddened stares. I sit
 
Alone in green sin 
When Death travels amongst us,
All that can be done

Is find the culprit
And grovel to the void face 
Of my own doing.

Details | Film Poem | |

Rebel Alliance or 'Princess Leia's Speech'

Revolt! We must do all we can!
Empire rising! Stand strong!
Better fight if you want to stay free,
Emperor Palpatine must be stopped!
Let it be known here and now 
All must fight for freedom for all!
Leaving no creature behind, 
Leaving no planet unprotected!
I Leia, will lead this Alliance,
Against anyone seeking to harm us;
Never have I backed down! 
Can we all do our part?
Each of us must stop the Empire!

Details | Film Poem | |

Batman And Robin

(Limerick)


Batman and Robin hit the Joker
But their blow was only a croaker
The Joker hit back
But instead hit Jack
Who said "I'm glad, the Joker's an smoker!


Dorian Petersen Potter
Aka ladydp2000
Copyright@2014


09.16.2014

Details | Film Poem | |

1984 has gone

1984 Has Gone.

Nineteen eighty four has gone
But still it's not too late.
George Orwell got the date all wrong
But he recognized our fate.
His words are being acted out
You can see it everywhere.
George Orwell was a prophet man
His truth's at you they stare.

And so we sit, the TV on
As we stare into it's rays.
And the adverts roar so loud and clear
and with our minds they play.
"You must have this, you can't do that
They tell you how to live
And all they think you need to know
Though they haven't much to give.

And everyone be taught to think
Just like the one, the other.
As little bricks they each be formed
But the truth's kept undercover.
And not too many want the truth
Or even think at all.
So me, I turn that TV off
It drives me up the wall.




Details | Film Poem | |

Ekphrasis

Ajanta, Ellora caves HD film capturing paintings and rock-cut sculpture 
Caves carved from hills, immaculate top-down orthodox architecture
Modern monuments rise from plinth, CAD down-up structure
Meticulous paintings on dark-at-noon high cave ceilings
Difficult to adjust in one go zoom-click all finer details of paintings     

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
PS : 
~  Ajanta / Ellora - UNESCO World Heritage Sites - 
                               rock-cut caves located in Aurangabad, India 
     Ajanta - famous for paintings & sculpure of Buddhist religious art
     Ellora  - famous for Buddhist, Hindu & Jain rock-cut temples & monasteries 

~ HD - High Definition 

~ CAD - computer aided design
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By Hitendra Mehta
May 2011

For Members contest –  Ekphrasis painting, sculpture, book, film by Brian Strand
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Details | Film Poem | |

Snap Shots

Yesterday, the snow fell, laced lazily 
all across the frozen field; grace fell down.
My heart raced, apace in a minor key
troubles fled erased from me, was my frown. 

Seemed semblances filled my life-weary head 
so God's beauty nudged my heart-weary soul;
far off, hills became instilled white purebred 
away from mad machines joy milled bold.

Now, black is white, fresh and new, clean and pure 
it takes a hold of blight and sings ... out;
looks at frowns ignite, giggles light, demure.
As, the day brites sledders scream "Watch out!"

Though winter's gray days we'll recall this sight.
They're our days, our nights, dressed in Winter white. 

Here we dawdle, coats, scarfs and boots in Winter white. 
to freeze as frames of memory, joy's root in Winter white.

Stay with me, dream awhile, we could build an igloo?
Oh, won't you make snow angels, beauts, in Winter white. 

I could put snow down your coat, toss a ball or two
believe  me, " I could, I could catch YOU toots in Winter white!"

In frozen splendor, we will still, "Isn't he so cute!" 
Yesterday  is forever captured now SHOOT! in Winter white.



Sonnet with a Ghazal Chaser ;)
see about the poem
dedicated to Chan [nuff rhyme for you hon?]

Details | Film Poem | |

Untitled...for now

‘my eyes
with a film over them
clouding them with 
iridescent shapes of
you’

I'm reading this again...
probably not the best thing 
for me to read at this moment.

sending off...hmm? 
do you still feel the same?

a ramble of unpoetic lines
shoved together haphazardly

if the power of words can kill
then 
I’m butchering a pig—
—blood as virtual ink!

…pathetic
not poetic…

comparing my ‘poetry’
to yours
my UNpoetry

yet,
you say—
—you claim to love it

sending off—

—do you still feel the same?

‘my eyes’
-coming ‘round full circle-
‘with a film over them’
—just incase—
you’ve forgotten

[my eyes
with a film over them
clouding them with 
iridescent shapes of
you]

‘clouding them with’
-repeated-
‘iridescent shapes of’
—not quite—
‘you’

sending off—

—do you still feel the same?

do you 
still 
feel the same?

Details | Film Poem | |

The Typewriter

Some winter day,
In Orson's realm...
Or was it just a film?

One Paris night,
Along The Seine streams...
Or was it in my dreams?

I saw them, spies,
I heard all the cries...
Or had I been dreaming?

A machine gun
Would not stop to run...
Or was it still this film?

I woke up, then,
To grab a new pen...
Could THAT all make MY film?

The typewriter
let her fingers run...
WHO'LL STOP THIS MACHINE GUN!?

(Written on 04/27/2013)