Gert Strydom, 29 april 2014
There are times that I do not notice You
when a friend is robbed in his own house,
when another motorist tries to push me off the road,
when a toothache almost drives me off my head
but then the weavers and sparrows in the garden
chatter and twitter
and the doves sing their songs of praise
about everything that comes from Your hand
and the deep red colour of roses do astonish me,
and I notice an iris flowering unexpectedly in spring,
and a bush of daisies carries yellow and orange flowers
and it’s as if the daylilies dance in the wind
and with every beautiful sunrise
I experience Your presence
and know that the powers of darkness
are increasing their rebellion
but that You are still standing omnipotent at my side
and the impression of Your love is in everything around me.
Satish Verma, 29 april 2014
Fear of becoming sane
inherits the hate of earth.
I wake up in the rains of time.
Fire of soulextracts the thought shapes
like stark naked truth
in the desert of pain –
unbirthing the child of wisdom.
I hardly think, in my failures.
The house will go up in blaze
by the earthen lamp of fading glory.
There was no light, a quick death
of lips and speech. The human touch-
prints had avenged for words.
Inspiration will wait.
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 28 april 2014
Lord, here where I stand on my knees
I want to stretch out my hand
that Your omnipotent hand can take mine
and help me find the kind of faith
to believe like a mere child
without any certainty
and keep trusting that You
do only want the best for me.
Satish Verma, 28 april 2014
The noise of a crescent
climbs wordlessly.
In the night of dew and wind, for
its native starless beams-
holding the thread of a thought, walking
through wall of disbelief. Before and after
the murder of a spark; the heart misses
a beat. Cold sweat rustling on forehead;
you bend to pick up a coin,
a fake one. Possibility of becoming rich fades soon.
You want to say nothing. Troy, Michigan, USA
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 27 april 2014
The whole truth was porus,
a hard punch on my face. We stood
on the edge of lies. Body
twisted at several places, mutually
hating, yet telling sweet nothings,
bored umpteen times like eroded hisses.
The shrieks belie the red wall of flames,
reddened lids. Cannot enhance the
blackness of night for stars to shine.
They butchered a symphony. A nude
cries. The tongue slips. Bonanza for bats.
And I resume the hunt in starlit jungle of birds.
Blue lips surround a pink hole.
Teeth were not visible, but bite was sharp.
How do you love a distanced friend?
The beauty of Raflesia?
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 26 april 2014
A cinder,
neither coal nor ash,
my life,
clogs the roots of swaying carnations.
Fear, like a cheetah, runs faster than discretion.
Helplessly you tear off the last page
of the book
without reading the end.
One petaled coral, green,
hides the white death,
drowning the hope.
The river has changed the course,
without meaning, purpose,
meandering, engulfing the cardinal designs.
A homeless god wanders,
in my garden, to sit for a while
in the ruins of burnt umbers,
till the shrine is completed.
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 25 april 2014
My whole world is sometimes in a jumble
and when things want to fall apart
I do not really comprehend
how everything fits together
but then I do remember the small things
that You are doing daily for me
and that You constantly keep bringing answers,
even when darkness is around me.
Satish Verma, 25 april 2014
Your impressionist,
rift, comes through
uncontrolled hands of fear. The snake
was shedding the skin.
Not walking,
flying like a rage
discharging the burns
in the river of blood.
I shudder,
in the cleft of a grain.
Hymns were howering over the book.
One by one
the leaves fall, to unravel the secrets of
unvoiced grief of earth.
A thin faith crumbles
unfinding the lost shroud
of a messiah.
Satish Verma
Joe Breunig, 24 april 2014
Are you bearing good fruit?
Are you hungry for victory
and for more of His Presence?
Are you alive to righteousness
and Christ’s divine essence?
Faith without loving works
is still considered dead;
are you part of a local body?
What are you doing today?
What is it, that you embody?
From the greatest exchange,
our raggedness for His glory,
taken was our sinful shame-
Hallelujah to The Lord!
Hail to His Holiest Name!
Made right through Christ,
by the power of His Blood,
despite our human flaws,
we won’t be crucified…
under the punishment of Law.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
2 Cor 5:11-21; Jam 2:14-26; Rom 3:23-26; John 3:16-17
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
Steven Ingle, 24 april 2014
Tears and laughter shared,
broken hearts paired
then like the flight of a wounded dove
I fled from love
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