Tag Archives: Poem

“San Francisco Howlin’ “: Creative Short Film Featuring Poem By Allen Ginsberg Directed By Matthias Zierau (2011)

Short Film shot in San Francisco, California .

Filmed and Edited By:  Matthias Zierau

Voice Over:    Allen Ginsberg citing from his poem “Howl”
Music:    Barrie Gledden & Chris Bussey

Howl

By Allen Ginsberg 1926–1997

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,
who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war,
who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,
who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall,
who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,
who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night
with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls,
incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between,
Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,
who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo…

 

“Le Col & Team UK Youth”: Cinematic Poem Cycling Commercial Directed By Greg Hackett (2013)

Commercial shot for LeCol – the brand behind Team UK Youth.

Director – Greg Hackett
Production Company – Spindle Productions
Executive Producer – Yanto Barker
Editor – Tim Swaby
Music – Chris Cooper & Owen Morgan
Voice – Alex Walker

Poem By:  Laurence Eaves

“The trail stretched out in my wake,
Marks the path of my trial.
Each centimetre step I take
Will add to make up miles

Where are the stars which shared the load
By lighting up the track;
The wind that used to whip the road
And press upon my back?

Though every weary tread will tire
This body, bruised and sore,
The lonely ache of my desire
Demands me to endure.

Each slow and heavy stroke reminds
Me of how far I’ve come,
From loving faces, left behind
With memories of home.

But I push past the pressure of
This struggle to survive,
And make my mind the measure of
How much I am alive.

The sun now slips down from the skies
And sleeps through the moon’s reign,
But soon, together we will rise
And start the chase again.”

Article on Poem:  http://nowherefast.cc/film-le-col-commercial/

“Sea Fever”: A Cinematic Poem Surf Short Film From Tim Davies (2013)

A Tim Davies Production, shot in the UK and Ireland. Winner of Best Short at 2013 London Surf Film Festival.

Directed and Filmed By:  Tim Davies

Music By:   Massive Attack – A Prayer for England

Poem “Sea Fever” By:  John Masefield

“I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking,
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.”