WILDsound broadcasts a unique film festival every single day of the week, showcasing the best films from around the world. Enjoy a growing library of independent films, original screenplay, novel, short story, and poetry readings spanning all genres.
Poetry Reading: Drop me off in the Wilderness, by K.C. Wilson
Performed by Val Cole
Drop Me Off in the Wilderness
Drop me off in the wilderness
By the river shore where we were before
By the abandoned shack by the railroad track
Slow down and I’ll jump out the door
And find my own way back, I guess,
From the valley of excess
And the Land of 10,000 Dan...
POETRY Reading: A Mourning Hug for John Mendelssohn, by Stacy Alexander
A Mourning Hug for John Mendelssohn
A glowing day
from plants to crows
to this disillusioned woman
as a hard wind
whips the cloying air,
from Northern California,
taunting an already-battered heart.
This time last year
And so it is, a new day has dawned
As here I sit to greet it right
A pebble, nay, a grain of sand
In the depths of space on this land
Tomorrow brings what we not know
But care at all is nay we have
For sorrow comes to those who wait
POETRY READING: A Civil Soldier's Tale, by SJ Roebling
Performed by Val Cole
A Civil Soldier's Tale
"Lie still now, soldier", the Union General said,
As he knelt down beside the boy's bloody, wounded head.
The dying young lad, no more than fifteen, if a day,
Wore the blight of cannon, from being in its way.
In having everything and nothing to do all at once,
this mother strips herself bare
of dignity. I do what I have to.
The happy meds I fed my mind this morning
kicked themselves in
far past the buzzed feel-good uprights
landing amidst a stad...
collecting old keys
seeking answers unseen
lost in a puzzle
of amnesiac complexities
the clock chants why
timeless moments pass her by
orchestrating a symphony
of a perpetual dream
echoing particles of dust
a young womans de...
POETRY Reading: The Hindu’s Lament, by Edmund Jonah
Performed by Allan Michael Brunet
(Bhagwan is God! or O God!)
As I passed a lonely temple in the after-evening glow,
On the banks of the Ganges where the quiet waters flow,
When the sun had sunk to rest and cool softness touched the air,
I saw a dark-skinned Indian and I heard him chant this pr...
Before I read Lorca
My words were blunt swords for
Slicing rotted wood
Pathetic castles of sand
Praying never the waves
Or even harsh winds
Ascend to my feeble heights
Where from above with disdain