Gert Strydom, 14 september 2015
When you did come
the world had changed
and what was our home
with time was rearranged
but between us all was still the same
and even your face, your body and name.
Although for a time separate the world we did roam,
love was still of our feelings the sum
when you did come.
When you did come back to me
all of our promises and joy was full of sincerity
and about the heartaches I did not care anymore
as life did change and nothing was still the same
as it had been before
but our feelings and our love was still aflame
and for me more precious you had come to be
when you did come back to me.
Satish Verma, 14 september 2015
Why do you run away
from the primordial fear?
Of tight emptiness?
A shapeless entity of drifting psyche?
This was your home
where carcasses of cliches
hang from the doors of wisdom.
Unplanted seeds
of vacant connotations.
Inch by inch you were eating
your prophetic pauses
salt had become tasteless.
Counting the kisses of
moths on the screen
a candle burned furiously.
I never picked the colors of cloud, of rain, of blood.
What becomes of happening,
of being, of reaching?
The stones of truth are very sharp.
The roads were conspiring
insects collecting, under the surface.
Circling winds had
a heavy stench of death
but words were very intelligent.
Satish Verma, 13 september 2015
My fear becomes the courage
to pursue the truth,
the basic abandonement.
I must go after the dark
stepping on hot leads of pain.
Truth does not stalk,
it burns the fingers on your face
for a self-portrait.
Evidence of borders gives
the catastrophic miss
let us abolish the centre.
No body will now
measure the distance.
We will move at periphery
on a trajectory of truth
within the eternity
of larger boundary.
Why you live in future,
opposing today,
to put away the past?
That was my eternal question.
You felled a tree with a terrible bang.
My heart aches.
Water moves in sudden spurts
of nightmare. Sky weeps.
Satish Verma, 12 september 2015
This way it was
this way it happened
I could not run along the river.
Your face floats
like a skylamp.
Halfway rainbow was broken.
How did it happen?
I became transgenic
by the kiss of death.
This was my victory
I surrendered the cushion.
You sleep in my arms.
Again I will wander
in the graveyard
where my angel was sleeping.
This is my last letter
in the month November
Now the scent will be buried in snow.
Gert Strydom, 11 september 2015
He knows the precise wandering of stars,
of every planet in the universe,
have power and the insight to create
things from the nothingness
speaks of the beauty of love
and his whole life is filled
by personal sacrifice
and the virtue that He brings
that goes beyond human mysteries,
while He gives power to the weak,
talks about another kingdom
than that which the people
of his generation did seek,
but in Him everyone does see
the perfect love of a creator God,
of a sinless human being.
Satish Verma, 11 september 2015
Choice was washing the guilt
or keeping mind shut.
Microscopic deterioration
in the brain had set in.
The monologue of humility
was not relevant for the flame ritual.
They said the death was a dropp of wine.
Immoral alchemy had
broken the enormous myth.
The electrons went crazy,
they orbited like hungry eagles.
Truth was never the same.
Fading age wears new wrinkles,
black on black rose praises the air.
The return of grief, was very evident.
Eyes blinked endlessly,
I too lifted the pleated pain.
Enzyme of new creation
was worthless.
We were walking
into an epic, oscillating
between two centuries.
Joe Breunig, 10 september 2015
Transcending the barriers of language,
is a powerful word of… utmost praise;
it’s a personal shout of recognition,
that Jehovah most be honored this day!
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
Now hear the World, exclaim in unison.
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
His majesty is the final conclusion,
that we’ll all reach at the Bema Seat.
Knees will bow and tongues will confess,
that Christ is the Lamb and our Lord;
under His reign and rule, all acquiesce
and attest with more shouts of praise.
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
By the grace of His Spirit, we cry out:
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
Author Note
Inspired by:
Psa 146:1; Rom 1:20, 14:10-12;
2 Cor 5:10; Acts 17:29; Col 2:9 and
"The one word of praise that goes beyond all language barriers to make the whole world praise God with one voice in unison is 'Hallelujah!,' may we train our soul and command it to praise the Lord often in this universal earthly language that transcends time and space to reach heaven and reverberate in heaven to bring glory, honor and praise to our God and joy towards us from Him in response." —Abraham Israel
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.
Gert Strydom, 10 september 2015
I thought that words
would draw you closer to me,
but words set us apart literary
in the real sense
and forever you and I
will never be coming together with words.
Words although magic
are always reaching out
to someone else,
as if you see
each and every poem
as competing against yours
and never do we bond
by the skill of words
and even the words written to you
carry their messages
but do not really hit the mark
as if I am only giving blank pages
with absent messages
and my writing more and more
does create less for you.
Gert Strydom, 10 september 2015
When I read in a great poem
that humanity lies beyond
the borders of life and culture
I saw the poet hope
as if peace
would suddenly come down from heaven
and I did wonder if it was possible
to remove the animal from man
who rather wants to tread down,
vituperate and steal?
I did become to realise
that the people in whom
the in dwelling of God does lack
are filled with darkness
and like barbarians they do believe
that violence is the last resort
and still it did not take the bullet
out of every firearm,
and still it did fail
to make anything else of the Panga blade
than a deadly killing thing
and the reality of the unknown robber
who sneaked around with a knife in the back of my yard,
my two cars that were stolen,
the loss of my work,
and affirmative action
does still threaten my life,
does force me down upon my knees
to pray to the omnipotent God.
[Reference: “Woorde” (Words) by Vincent Oliphant.]
Gert Strydom, 10 september 2015
When I heard the learned professor
lecturing in mathematics,
talking about parabolas,
about calculating some interesting things
like division approaching zero
and the limit applying to it
I saw you, your breasts
and my thoughts were led astray
trying to calculate the circumference,
the curves and shape of your breasts
and I was truly blessed
when you blushed and smiled back at me
and I thought about your perfect body,
a thing that only the creator God
had the ability to calculate and to construct.
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