Satish Verma, 5 november 2014
Beyond the gaze there is a time zone
of rumored agitation
when you cannot sleep.
You open your eyes quietly to complain.
The caretaker has prepared the shroud,
Smoke is rising on the hills.
No body walks with you,
it is a lone journey, where
centuries throw the dust on your hallowed gifts.
The pyramid of signs, symbols, signatures,
disappear in penultimate flare.
Time to leave the waiting room.
The resurrection will take place now;
of fear; of despair; of foot steps in dark.
I will hear them, holding my breath.
Landscape will change into valley of tears.
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 4 november 2014
I see shadows everywhere,
one follow me
but the rest just
image off the things in my life.
Still love fills me
and is now more than just
another thing leaving its mark
since it’s part of every word and deed.
Satish Verma, 3 november 2014
It was a fascinating night
like albino children playing in park.
I was gazing at sky.
The years have gone by one by one.
I am still walking on dead leaves
refusing the fruits.
This was me, no urge, no need,
the leather worn out but
feet are intact.
A continous civil war among the windows
suffers the grace. Stupidities of house.
You collect the garbage whole life
and when time comes to depart,
make a bonfire of your winnings.
We are ageing like wall paper
and talking to doors. The guest
is coming at last.
Satish Verma, 2 november 2014
Looked naïve, but he was
elevating himself on the heap of lights
unlearning the human commitment.
Hunger was his weapon
to level the uprising of underprivileged.
This monarch of darkness
picks up the best,
insists on low profiles.
We were searching fossils
under the rocks
to decipher the shadows of history.
Between the glory of hardened footprints,
we found the labels.
Contents unknown but enough to browse.
They were weightless
and soaring high.
But I was not able to survive.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 1 november 2014
I watched in horror,
your pride was tilting.
The landscape was losing the freedom of anonymity.
The labels were rejecting,
the moods of winds,
and embarrassing the consensual sleep.
Where was the need of constructing the arches
on ugly roads,
when mob was indulging in incestuous manner?
Incognito moves the truth, crest fallen.
I had been on edge since long.
This human atrophy was appalling,
while I was searching a doomed culture,
in orchards of wits.
Two thousand seven, and still our angular limbs
cannot move the time.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 31 october 2014
Tell me how to tell you about a flat
robotic voice,
asking for euthanasia,
a rite of passage for ceremony of death.
He said, he preferred lethal injection
to noose. But it should be painless,
and there should be no leakage of pain
on face. Mercy it be.
This was not a stage show.
No mummer was performing.
Sitting in lotus position
inviting the inevitable. Be my destiny,
my end.
A terminal prayer of infant dream,
which could not find words,
worth any weakness.
Going separately on different routes,
meeting accidently at home
two things were quarreling with dark
quietly.
Satish Verma
Joe Breunig, 30 october 2014
The World is not enough for me, seeing that
my enrollment is inscribed on Heaven’s scroll;
my assignments are ongoing and I know that…
I’m secure with regard to the future of my soul.
I may not enjoy the exploits of James Bond,
but my faith’s exhilaration does not compare
in the traditional sense of the World’s view,
since the Presence of Jehovah is everywhere.
Empowered by His Spirit to take divine action,
defeat of evil principalities that surround
will eventually occur by the might of The Lord,
as I’m standing on The Word’s Biblical ground.
Though I’ll never fear the unknown I may face,
I’m thoroughly equipped and trained for battle.
The weapons of my warfare are spiritually based;
firmly I stand in “the gap” without being rattled.
Certainly I’m not jealous of the secret agent,
for I already possess the mystery to happiness:
the joy of The Lord is my source of contentment.
The strength of my faith is eternally relentless
and I’m loving this blessed existence each day.
My spirit is perpetually stirred, but not shaken!
Living victoriously remains as my mission statement
until the my life’s final day, when I’m taken… home.
Author Notes
Loosely based on:
1 King 8:27; Jer 23:23-24; Isa 6:3, 66:1;
2 Tim 2:19; Matt 7:24; 1 Pet 2:6; Eze 22:30;
Psa 28:7, 62:2; Eph 6:11-13; 2 Cor 5:8, 10:3-5
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
Satish Verma, 30 october 2014
Life may mean anything to you, but
I refuse, to become a utility.
Come, let us face the death of time.
We were whisked away,
had taken a wrong turn,
and when battle lines were drawn,
the guns were not ready.
Dirty mirrors always complained of a bad weather.
Today I will go for a long journey,
to get the gifts of peacocks from green trees.
I want to listen to their grievances whole night.
Humanity stinks when infected hands
handle the peace. I splash the truth
on your face,
to see the sun clearly.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 29 october 2014
Perhaps you know,
that you do not know,
the moment of truth is here,
and we are at the cross roads.
Night is without a cloud
and crescent moon is questioning a star.
Ghost of strayed peace
has slided back in dark.
Pure chemistry of love is boiling.
Planting the tender flowers on lips
I find nothing. I think I will go
for a new lover.
Strawberry was your choice,
but I always craved blue berries.
Pulpy red and blue black were teeth apart.
Your eyes are unreadable,
a watery grave of pain.
Something impossible should happen
Poetry is waiting for symbiosis.
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 28 october 2014
Early on a winter morning in Cape Town
the rain is sieving down as it has done for days,
the sky is covered with grey clouds
and inside are you and I
cosily in a hot bed.
There are footsteps in the hallway
that sneaks to the room and two cold children
get into the bed with us
and when the big old clock strikes seven o’clock
its time to get up, to get ready
for work and school.
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