B.Z. Niditch

B.Z. Niditch, 27 june 2016

A BALTHUS DREAM

A tableau of color
filled in my sequences
of a Balthus dream
knowing of the artistic relationship
of Rilke's friendship as a poet
between these critical innovators
elicited in the Swiss mountains
his paintings grow in demand
in credited creator's portraits
of Alice in Wonderland
this cat or kabuki
only few acknowledging
his matured Polish genius
or understand you
like Giacometti,
Bataille or Camus
with a mind's eye to capture
what his later celebrity brings
in his divine nurtured rapture
from the nature of things.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 26 june 2016

Scalding Me

A lamplit page 
that smells your body. 
I still remember the 
cajoling maneuver to give 
me a spin. 
 
Oysters. They were crawling 
to eject the pearls. And 
spiders weaving a net 
to trap my thoughts. A 
fly lands in the labyrinth. 
 
War of attrition. A tremor 
shakes the pillars. Moments 
of disintegration. The fragments 
throw the footprints in 
your hands. 
 
You cannot write your 
name on your book.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 25 june 2016

Tree Fall

They felled a huge tree. 
Some Druid feared that it had an afterlife 
and it sleepwalked at night 
but it was me. 
My tracery 
my shade. 
 
Beyond the sounds I had landed 
here as a seed. 
Today I am visiting my ancestral home 
my walls and my soil 
I am I was. 
 
I am in every tree 
every tree was me 
a mute, silent submission of learning 
the first translator of nature 
the sculptured journey in time. 
 
Destruction and eternal fall 
I want not to happen 
still it goes on 
masterpiece of death.
 


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Joe Breunig

Joe Breunig, 24 june 2016

Poem: Obstacles in Life

Life’s obstacles can only delay us
from achieving our God-given purpose;
instead of becoming frustrated, we
should look to Christ and just focus

on the underlying issues in prayer.
Obstacles may perfect personal traits,
like having peace by waiting on Him,
so that our hearts are not deflated.

They kick up dust, blinding our vision
whereby, we must go back to Him again;
When our eyes are focused on Christ,
He lights our path and lessens our pain.

Instead of worrying and becoming anxious,
I’ve decided to cast my burdens on Christ,
knowing that He earnestly cares for us;
employing His principles, no real strife

can ever deter us from personal victories.
We’re blessed, from persevering our trials;
for these too, will eventually leave us,
lasting but a short, inconvenient while.



Author notes

Inspired by:
Psa 27:1, 119:2; Isa 41:13; 1 Pet 5:7;
Jam 1:12; Prov 3:5-6  and

"No matter how big or small the obstacles we face in our spiritual journey, as long as we keep our eyes on the Lord, we will reach our destiny that God has prepared for us beforehand to fulfill in this life, and hence inherit a mighty reward for it in the life to come. Keep your eyes in between the start and end of your faith on Jesus because He is the one who actually starts as the author and also ends as the finisher of your faith, He is able to keep you safe from the drowning of worry and unbelief by His supernatural power to stay afloat to reach your heavenly destination!" —Abraham Israel

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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Joe Breunig

Joe Breunig, 24 june 2016

Poem: Moral Regulations

We are not motivated
by a sacred concept
of moral regulations;
the heart’s context
of pleasing The Lord,
presses us… forward.
His Love covers sin
and senses of awkward-
ness that afflict us.

Before Him, we come
to offer our praise,
heartfelt thanksgiving
and lives to essay
a lifestyle of Faith.
As His adopted Children,
we’re to mature, grow
and rise above the din
of this World’s noise.
 


Author notes

Inspired by:
1 Tim 3:15-16

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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Joe Breunig

Joe Breunig, 24 june 2016

Poem: Let Them See

O Lord, let them see You, in me.
With the Light of Your Presence,
the lost are unknowingly brought
closer to You and Your essence…

for the benefit of their souls.
With the divine manifestation,
of Your Spirit brightly shining,
allow Your message of Salvation

to flow effortlessly… out of me.
Let them see Your Goodness, Mercy,
Joy, Grace, Peace and Gentleness;
caress the souls who are thirsty

in tangible ways, so they may find
abundant Life and promised victory,
for which provision has been given.
Touch them Lord and let them see!
 
 
 
Author notes

Inspired by:
Eph 3:8-12; Gal 5:22-23; 2 Cor 13:3-5

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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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 24 june 2016

No Answer

Prisoner of praise 
was slave of anger: 
sucks the rival in high speed. 
 
The violence travels 
from roots to leaves 
The lake bleaches, puts out the skull 
a myth is washed out 
in complete agony. 
Give me the hemlock 
I am ready to burn inside. 
 
Crazy moon 
where did you go? 
Hunger had been arrested in bloody eyes. 
Now fumes are rising. 
 
The iron fist no longer strikes 
demands to know 
why you had to go? 
 
For the first time 
I had no answer.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 23 june 2016

Backtracking

Leave something for me to imagine. 
A skeleton in a pond 
leaps to the moon. 
 
In an air bubble 
lies the history of a suspended 
name, wasted away on water. 
 
A war is declared on the 
family of words, not spoken 
to anguish of man. 
 
I thought of my sun 
averting a disaster. The sprouts 
will not come out of the earth. 
 
An enquiry into the nature of 
immanence, leads to starvation. 
The body of truth turns into a snake. 
 
The revolution within, shows 
a false victory. You start again 
from the ugly fingers.
 


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 21 june 2016

Happy Valley Of Stings

I don’t fake the pain 
pain was me. 
A grafted rose opens up along the road rage. 
 
This was the city of my birth 
my oblivion, my reincarnation 
ejaculated from the dark. 
 
Here I found the golden dust 
nuggets of truth 
and the nostalgia of a broken moon. 
 
The marble white love 
and green bowl of arms 
a happy valley of stings. 
 
The sun backtracks on hills 
when I walk on sands 
leaving the deep scars. 
 
A small horizon was my window 
hunger of nightingales on branches. 
The tree was walking in, my house.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 20 june 2016

Dust

Creeping in waking night 
was fear of fear 
and you wanted to accept the defeat 
retreat, 
It gives you solitude of 
blank space, featureless. 
 
The terrorist mask of blazing guns 
bribing the absent gods, 
for whom you are aiming? 
 
The holy man on road 
fakes, 
crushing the grass 
lilies getting flattened under the giant wheels. 
 
Moving an bloody toes 
festering heels 
carrying the sacred earth under the nails 
all night. 
peeling the time, throwing the skn 
and waiting 
for the dust to settle.


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