Boy To Boy By Tim Shuh

Yo man, I gotta tell you something

Sometimes you’re gonna go into cornersnot knowing which way the puck’s

gonna come out

Sometimes you’re gonna get a breakaway

and miss the netHave a two on oneand go offsideSometimes life is gonna be filledwith corners and missed breakawaysOffsides and missed calls

But don’t lose yourself 

 

Don’t lose who you are,based on others’ perception

 Because your perceptionis the only one that matters

Sometimes you’re gonna come out

with the puck from that cornerSometimes not

You’re gonna score

 

You’re gonna miss

But remember this

Life’s not about one goal,it’s about the whole seasonAdapted from Langston Hugh’s poem –

 

“Mother and Son”

 

 

It’s Haunting By Charlotte Intof

It’s haunting… It’s one of the words that I would use to describe March 26, 2014. My kitten, my little tiny savior kitten was curtained beneath death, and I was left, trembling in his wake. He was so beautiful, my little kitten. And I was devastated to lose him so suddenly. This poem is describing my emotions during the situation, and afterwards. My hope that somewhere he’s living on. And that is a very comforting thought to me. 

It’s haunting
The empty box right there
Where you once played and slept

It’s haunting
To look over there
And realize I won’t see you again

It was haunting
When I burst through the doors
And collapsed on the grassy field

It was haunting
When I planted flowers
Around your grassy grave

Nemo, you made me smile and cry
You tore my heart apart
I regret every moment not spent with you
And the times I walked right by

Your gray and white fur was beautiful
And softer than a blanket
I want to hold you in my arms
And kiss your tiny head 

It was haunting
When I came back in
And the house was silent, dead. 

But I know that one day
I’ll see you again
And till then you’ll be safe

So here right now
I’m saying the words
I wish I’d said more when you were alive
Dear Nemo, I love you oh so much
And just wait for me right up there. 

Not Just A Host By Steph Martin

I look around myself, 
 I see the woman standing in the door way.
  I see the man at the table.
   He’s slowly sipping his coffee.
    I see the woman getting undresses in an           open
window.
     Her lover comes over and pulls her                     close. 

I feel relaxed.
 I feel happy.
  I feel hot.
   The air is muggy, and thick.
    The tropical heat is relaxing.
     It makes me sleepy.

The woman in the doorway looks up, and laughs.
 The man sips his coffee, it’s too hot. 
  He blows on it to cool it down.
   Someone is sipping from a straw.
    The slurping sound reminds me,
     Of my child hood. 
       Of my childhood at home
        Someone is singing.
         A song about love and life.
          A woman cries out,

“I love the summer!”
 “I love the summer!”
  “I love the summer!”

Everyone chants.
 It slowly fades out.
  The sound of everything sitting at the tables,
   Listening to the music being played.
 
The cello,
 the flute,
  the guitar,
   the triangle,
    the banjo,
     the clarinet.

All of the people, 
 they all look around.

Knowing that summer is,
 slowly being left out.

Left by the children,
 returning to school.
  Left by the workers,
   starting a new.
    Left by the sun,
     and the cloudless days.
      Left by the festivals,
       that fill the day.

And all the while,
 I realize that, 
  no matter the weather,
   no matter the time,
    no matter the season,
     I’ll always be fine.

I love the summer,
 the heat,
  and the food.

I love all the people,
 you see in the world.

I love the passion,
 and all the life.
  That comes with the summer.

Summer, 
 Oh Summer,
  Please don’t go.

Summer Time By Mickala Worsley

I look around myself, 
 I see the woman standing in the door way.
  I see the man at the table.
   He’s slowly sipping his coffee.
    I see the woman getting undresses in an           open
window.
     Her lover comes over and pulls her                     close. 

I feel relaxed.
 I feel happy.
  I feel hot.
   The air is muggy, and thick.
    The tropical heat is relaxing.
     It makes me sleepy.

The woman in the doorway looks up, and laughs.
 The man sips his coffee, it’s too hot. 
  He blows on it to cool it down.
   Someone is sipping from a straw.
    The slurping sound reminds me,
     Of my child hood. 
       Of my childhood at home
        Someone is singing.
         A song about love and life.
          A woman cries out,

“I love the summer!”
 “I love the summer!”
  “I love the summer!”

Everyone chants.
 It slowly fades out.
  The sound of everything sitting at the tables,
   Listening to the music being played.
 
The cello,
 the flute,
  the guitar,
   the triangle,
    the banjo,
     the clarinet.

All of the people, 
 they all look around.

Knowing that summer is,
 slowly being left out.

Left by the children,
 returning to school.
  Left by the workers,
   starting a new.
    Left by the sun,
     and the cloudless days.
      Left by the festivals,
       that fill the day.

And all the while,
 I realize that, 
  no matter the weather,
   no matter the time,
    no matter the season,
     I’ll always be fine.

I love the summer,
 the heat,
  and the food.

I love all the people,
 you see in the world.

I love the passion,
 and all the life.
  That comes with the summer.

Summer, 
 Oh Summer,
  Please don’t go.

The Last Dance By Rachel Brubacher

A couple dancing in a palace.

There are poofy dresses

Greens, blues, purples and pinks

A choir.

With the voices of angels

A man dancing with a woman

He hold her close then walks away

She follows him  

He looks out at the stars she puts her hand on his

Horses gallop in the distance.

He looks at her with sad eyes  

She smiles and leads him back to the ballroom.

They continue to dance

For the last time

In the deep moonlight

People start leaving

One by one

But the two remain there

With their sad hearts

As they hold each other close

Peace By Alana Thoman

Beautiful trees of all colours surround me

The sun peaks through the top of the trees, letting off heat

The smell of spring lingers in the air

 

I hear the tree moving as the squirrels scurry down them

Sounds of children having fun echo in the wind

As well as sounds of the whistling wind

 

The warmth of the air is so soft on my skin

The environment so peaceful

 

I relax as I see birds fly over my head

Squawking at each other

Forming patterns as they fly

 

The ground is filled with dew

Which soaks the tip of my shoes

Bringing reassurance that spring will be here soon

 

I hope for weather like this to stay

It really brightens my day

A Single Drop By Jasper Bender

 

I yearn for you

So soft and gentle

You too often feel my touch

 

My gentle caress

It assures you

Assures you he isn’t coming back

 

I am clean

Clear

And Concise

 

You have molded me

The most beautiful

Most bright and brilliant person I know

 

Without you

I am nothing

Because of him

I am everything

 

I am a single tear

I can comfort and calm you

I am here for you now

 

Epitaph By Bryan Wallis

The world saw me grow and change before its eyes,

but now it’s my turn to watch.

What Lies Beneath By Rachel Brubacher

A police station in New York City. Dark, empty hallways. A YOUNG MAN is typing fiercely on his computer in the moonlight in a small room. Posters of a car accident from two years ago are surrounding the room. Headlines read:  “CAR UP IN FLAMES, NO BODY FOUND”.

The young man is MILES BROOKS. He stares at his computer screen with dark bags under his deep blue eyes. His boss, OFFICER JACOBS, walks up behind him and rests his hands on the back of Miles’s chair. Officer Jacobs looks up at the poster stapled to the wall.

OFFICER JACOBS

So are you going to find his wife

tomorrow and ask about the case?

She’s our last option.

Miles whirls around and looks up at Officer Jacobs.

MILES

Her name is Scarlett, and she just

moved back home last night. I think

I should probably give her some space

before I ask questions.

Officer Jacobs walks around the front of the desk and shakes his head.

OFFICER JACOBS

Typical Miles…always ignoring

my questions.

MILES

She’s not exactly the easiest

person to talk to after Ryan died.

She moved away because she couldn’t

handle the publicity about him. She

finally came back home for a fresh

start, I can’t just ruin that for her.

Officer Jacobs drops his hands onto the desk and learns in towards him.

OFFICER JACOBS

Look Miles, do you want this

promotion or not? Find her tomorrow

at 8 and tell me what you know. Can

you at least do that?

 

 

Scenes from a movie. Click here for more of the spec script. 

Birdwatcher’s Society By Brett Schummer

An Interesting tale of the life of a bird watcher’s society and learning to deal with loss.

 

 

Scenes from a movie. Click here for more of the spec script.