Satish Verma, 16 march 2016
When the very soul dies,
death does not need a label,
living with death becomes a ritual.
Craving for the kiss of time,
under the shadows of moments,
you are not you in the expanse of false pretentions.
I will be watching myself.
Questioning the validity of dying without the sun
night will not forget.
It pours the suffering, anguish and hurt.
The duality of black and white,
drives you to despair.
Poem was alive,
when it was not written.
Core of your being,
trembles on the name of limbs atrophied.
You were too close to the destiny,
which was always on the wrong side.
For the sake of innocence,
your truth remained crippled,
your bronze god weeping.
Renato N. Mascardo, 15 march 2016
birdseeds on the grass
when cardinals fly away
when sparrows begin to leave
the red cardinals
the chirping sparrows scatter
dusk is almost here
renato
tuesday 15 march 2016
Gert Strydom, 15 march 2016
Your beauty astonishes me constantly
when humility
does surround my whole life, shadows do fall,
with nobleness
you do become far more than just my princess,
oblivion
falls over the past when we do laugh together,
when I do yearn for each kiss from you.
Satish Verma, 15 march 2016
Fear overtakes the desire to happiness,
death is an accident:
it will happen for lesser reasons.
The meaning inside the meaning.
Delay in perception was
due to, surge between despair,
and hope, between touch and go.
A transparency in truth,
is always rejected for sorrow.
Center of life was sweet.
Needs courage to go for,
a conscious death of a script.
Your existence shudders amidst,
the roar of pretentions.
I adore the bloodless coup.
The solitude becomes my timeless strength of morality
of enormous silence.
Mind suffers a smouldering fire.
The longing for the other side,
of the man’s destiny and will.
To choose was not the will for abandonment.
Renato N. Mascardo, 15 march 2016
bits and pieces
i see
your smile on the
face of a stranger who
greets me in peace with a handshake
at mass
you rushed
by the end of
the lane between the stands
at the store/ i followed to find
it was
not you/
the voice on the
phone sounded so like you
until the caller said her name
not yours/
i see
i hear i feel
scattered bits and pieces
of you around me now that you
are gone//
renato
monday 14 march 2016
Gert Strydom, 14 march 2016
When I hold you tight
then I feel the depth of your trust
and I am aware of your heartbeat
as if every moment holds something deeper.
Satish Verma, 14 march 2016
Between a calm and a thunder,
I amputate my days, from the mediocre life of mindless alienation.
I bemoan for sanctity.
Man remains innocent of,
another man’s melody.
I get frightened.
Birds are suddenly falling from the sky.
Where the heart denies
a heart, a perfect rhythm,
mind bares a wound.
History does not repeat the truth.
Blank shadows break the windows
and I collect the ashes,
from the burnt plots and ruined homes.
Sometimes you pretend to kill,
an argument deliberately
to know the depth of the answer.
The turmoil of half-being;
the unhappiness of fulfillment,
the transformation of a death into peace,
was it in harmony?
Satish Verma, 13 march 2016
A hand wipes away the dried tears,
chemistry working.
Somebody puts a hand on the globe,
gives a strong twist.
Flesh helps to forget the agony.
I squeeze the heart,
smell of pain wafting through the pores.
Despair and solitude maintained contact with me
I go blank, cease thinking,
graze melancholy.
Listen to humming of bees in the ears.
Scrawl a note on existence,
of a dropp which started an avalanche.
Talking of sensual divinity
and neutral attachment
a river moves on bald terrain.
Somewhere the water in the eyes dries up.
The salt remains, burns the cold prayers.
The hawks move in a swift dive.
Joe Breunig, 13 march 2016
My missionary work, to an extent,
has been accomplished under grace;
most of the poetry I’ve composed
has been shared with the World,
with the intent of drawing others
towards The Kingdom and the face
of Christ, beloved Lord and Savior.
Pushed far out of my comfort zone,
I’ve taken this notion of identity,
that’s found solely in my Christ,
and pushed bravely forward with it-
at the dismay of brethren who bemoan
the label of Christian poet and author.
I can’t and won’t apologize for actions
taken to glorify God through evangelism;
Christ is the living Word; His Truth
courses through my spirit, as I explore
my Faith and understanding of Salvation.
Author notes
Inspired by:
1 Thes 5:19 and
"A life fully lived out for Jesus is never a wasted life, because in it the true reward starts only the moment one dies, and from that time on wards the dividend for the earthly investment they made continues to comes back without limit for the eternity that is ahead of them." —Abraham Israel
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.
Satish Verma, 12 march 2016
Half the night for you
half the night for me
in between,
when we are going to light our lamps?
A clock is ticking away
time elopes with stars.
When the gametes meet
a spark will chuckle in dark.
Tonight I am going to open my wrists
throwing the lines in water.
Take care of the lineage
flesh eaters are moving.
A pink rose looks at me
like moon in a honeycomb.
It was bittersweet, hurting, kissing
the thorn in my thumb.
Poetry
Prose
Photography
Graphics
Video poems
Postcards
Diary
Books
Handmade
