THE VISIT, Poetry by Stacy-Ann Duhaney

WILDsound Festival

Genre: Society, Death, Hope

by Stacy-Ann Duhaney

The Seventh Day church built on the bend
I curse at the perfection
Alongside these potholes dug deep
A cemetery for hope
Down the road the Pentecostal one wore a hat
It seems the years had stripped away all that
Now skirts are shorter
They keep fighting for souls to save
I hear there are more
Still, all Religion seem to lose here
Never to the heart of the matter
Along I walk counting numbers
Each wall the color of distress
Each fence an iron ceiling
If only the young could escape further than the sidewalk
Rusted lives, rotted cars and baby decorated homes
I smell poor, a state of runny nose, wasted sweat, hungry breath and unopened minds
There’s another world out there
Much more than a trigger’s click
Young ones saddled on hips
Daughters on their heads
Something more…

View original post 292 more words

Categorized as Festival

By WILDsound Festival

Submitters reactions to their feedback on their stories. New testimonials coming each month! Watch this month's winning readings. At least 15 performances a month: Submit your script, story, poem, or film to the festival today:

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