steven cooke, 7 july 2016
To ask a flower to kill a bee
is to ask a man to become the beast.
That is the will of war
The skylark rages it’s voice above the battlefield
For destiny lies below.
No argument with this world ,
but a foreign invader has entered his field.
The song of life is threatened.
The immigrant guns have freedom of movement,
they scream a betrayal of life.
The seeds of the poppy are in turmoil,
the sound of the shells
replaces the tractors of life.
And in this chaos the poppy symbol is born,
in a reluctant will of sacrifice.
Innocence of poppy will dull man’s pain,
but nothing is real.
War belongs to foreign shores
for English tea must not be disturbed.
And history will prostitute these red petals
in the hope that we will remember them.
Remember a moment in time,
a dream that flows in atoms unseen.
This speck of man within the cosmos.
A vote of no confidence in God,
for eternity is a lonely place.
Mortals and ghosts remember them.
Remember the soldier who sang down this road of despair,
who marched on a foreign soil.
Made proud under the willow by glorious woman
and prayed for by siblings to come.
Made ripe by a glorious English summer.
Victory is a tinsel thing.
War salivates for the fools and the brave.
The devil is on the move
groaning in his orgasm of pain,
that spills this cup to quench the end.
And the streets of home will be swept clean
By the invalid that saw them die
Yesterday’s confetti, this mush that blows in the wind
gathered by a broken man,
smoking his last park drive.
And when the misty morn greets the milkman.
Fear of nations will give a copper pension,
a loaf of bread for a young man’s life
and a bugle to let the devil know,
“these souls are out of bounds“.
Gert Strydom, 7 july 2016
During the yellow-brown autumn season
leaves rain down in golden squiggles
retaining their own kind of smell,
as if the tree is still cherishing them
while the fallen leaves are turned into foil.
Plundered and stripped to a skeleton
the tree retains the revivalist energy
and in the beginning of spring
it is covered with new flowers
and with leaves that are appearing
Satish Verma, 7 july 2016
Hydrangia was in full bloom
when I left.
Machine had failed me,
when I was looking at the
third eye of the sun
in crimson sky of west.
I was running away from myself
keys were chasing unbroken latches
the moon was yet to be born
in blackness.
The foetus turns
strikes the womb with violent kicks
who was the father of unknown child?
Let’s go and meet in dementia.
Three cheers for the wedding boot
turns the man into a snail.
Death now enters
to cross the threshold of tears
and listen to soulful
nightingale.
Gert Strydom, 6 july 2016
The man must know that spring is almost here,
around him the garden is lovely,
and seedlings he is planting in rows
and his fruit trees run up to the top of the hillock.
At the break of day he is already in his orchard,
around him the garden is lovely,
where He is praising God for His blessings
and when he washes the mud from his hands,
at the break of day he is already in his orchard
and there is a realisation coming to his mind
and he is happy that all of this comes from his hands
and when he washes the mud from his hands,
he knows that God is more than just merciful
and his orchard goes as far as the eye can see
and he is happy that all of this comes from his hands
and its not as if he deserves this prosperity.
The man must know that spring is almost here
and his orchard goes as far as the eye can see
and seedlings he is planting in rows
Satish Verma, 6 july 2016
It was dull green
under the weather,
foliage of a tall weeping Ashoka.
All day the sun had beaten down mercilessly
At night, under the shimmering shade of stars
somebody left a body of a child
wrapped in a red rag at the foot of the giant,
where the roots were jutting out from earth like a basket
to receive a birthday present.
A gift from a veiled shame.
Shutting out the breath,
a purple death by asphyxiation
A pink doll: mist draped in dew and flower.
Death was no stranger
among the saints and beasts.
Stone to stone,
stunned me.
I was discovering the life.
Gert Strydom, 5 july 2016
Without a song or sound it lays waiting,
gathering dust,
in the right hands it could sound quite lovely,
to sing it must,
songs of happiness and of some despair,
very unjust
life sometimes is; death brought the great silence,
that is now a lingering odd presence.
Satish Verma, 5 july 2016
Are you genuine, I ask?
Your face, a stone wall,
I had been bruising my psyche against it.
I have no strength to bury myself alive,
in the mass grave of lies.
An ancient fear
descends from the hill.
Wants to marry a tree.
Or worship the terror
of a diaspora.
The vultures are dying every day,
We were talking of pregnancy,
desire and death.
The sparrows are gone.
Heat is rising.
I am starting the countdown.
Gert Strydom, 4 july 2016
Omnipotent Father who are from evermore,
who knows the future as if it had happened before,
on whom the sands of time has no effect
let we pray to you with the respect
that belongs to a deity,
while you do set us from all life’s perils free
and daily in this evil world as we do dwell
let us each other of a father’s love tell.
Holy loving Son who did come to live upon this earth
astounded the universe was at your birth,
when you did begin your redemption plan
and the Prince of Peace became a mortal man
who paid with his life sin’s cruel cost
and salvation came to all sinners that were lost.
Your kind of love that is selfless is hard to comprehend
where you do love past any obstruction right to the end.
Great Spirit who hovered over the dark unknown deep
with matchless power you do the future keep
when in the hearts of men you do speak with love
and do a work that no one can remove,
let us remember in how our lives we do live
that you do countless blessings give
and when you do make us of our sins aware
let us follow our conscience and of our evil deeds beware.
Great Trinity that came to be by ways unknown
your presence in this world is shown
by nature’s beauty and the tender care
that is present everywhere
and when men do their own way go
may they of your presence know
and turn back to the righteous way
while they live in your loving care day by day.
Satish Verma, 4 july 2016
Goats and camels
My caravan moves on sand dunes
to cross the desert of hunger and want.
Give a sharp prick
draw the pure blood
and don’t cry at the sight of violence
in the sky
I am not going to die.
It is galloping dark
there is absolute stillness in the air
and I have fallen in love
with the whistling breeze.
Somebody is pawing, clawing at my back
as if trying to maul
the back of a denuded totem.
Moon is watching helplessly.
An owl on a branch
looks straight, flaps
flies away.
Unpeeled clouds are now walking away.
Dew will settle
among the thirsty fields.
Joe Breunig, 3 july 2016
As Children of The Almighty,
we have the God-given ability
to rise up, without the shame
of knowing who we really are,
despite our souls’ fragility.
Have we been taught and shown
Love, Mercy, Grace, Forgiveness
and Peace that we require daily?
So what is holding us back now,
from overcoming this human mess
of feeling inadequate or ignorant?
About 90 of The World is headed
towards Hell, unconvinced about
the legitimacy of the Christian
Lifestyle, whereby God’s embedded
His Presence and power is in us.
We’re not meant to be superfluous,
seeing that we’re supposed to be
both the hands and feet of Christ.
So The World remains nonplussed,
plagued by their own doubts, which
is reinforced by our poor treatment
of them; our continued failures to
walk in Love, reflects our inability
to thrive with joyous contentment.
Author notes
Inspired by:
Luke 10:19; Eph 1:3-141 Cor 12:27;
Rom 12:9-21; Matt 5:13-16
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.
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