Satish Verma, 14 september 2013
Walk rosie, walk on the serrated thorns;
exiting the blue abyss, shamelessly a baby god climbs
a salt mountain, incantatory, flicks
through: cranberry, cranberry it was the end of beginning,
the whole, was in peril, bits flying, licking
the toes, upending the truth, cracks appearing one by one
the attic was full of portraits, atrium empty, the
blue landscape latched to windows, a sick air map,
pseudumonas again attacking the viscera, festering,
a roadshow full of blisters, ribbed easily, climbing
on the poles to get a look at queenbee, pretending
to replace the beyond, we will remain faithfull.
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 13 september 2013
There’s sudden strength flowing
through black men’s souls
and Africans want a new king
a new Dingaan, Shaka, Mzilikazi,
to drive the white man into the sea.
Like giants they want to rise
and take what they think belongs to them,
they dance around the tribal fires,
drink homebrewed beer,
pray to their gods
calling up the spirits
and in Zimbabwe they find a man
and wage a terrible war there.
He is chosen as prime minister
and rids his country of opposition
unleashing his fifth brigade
on the Ndbele tribe
to exterminate, torture and to rape
fellow black citizens.
Promises are made about agricultural fields
and white farmers are freed
of their ground and possessions by force
with the police backing up
the onslaught.
Food production dries up
and mass famine and poverty results,
the country is run into the ground
controlled by the power
of the security police and military
and the king is in the chair
still ruling with a iron hand,
gathering a fortune
in foreign banking accounts
and in his eyes,
he’s president for life.
Gert Strydom, 13 september 2013
Broken country, you know the sadness
of millions of people that are leaving you
and the silent fury and hatred
that is constantly present
and about pain and injustice you do bare knowledge,
about the silent yearning on each face
for something far better and on the street
you sometimes witness violence but also pity
do witness people that want a own life,
that want to have the right to a own work
and do want to reach out for a place in the sun
but you do know that many will never have it
and how deep the despair lies in their hearts
and that people want to live if they only could.
Satish Verma, 13 september 2013
After lifting the fingerprints of bloodbath
a bushfire starts, engulfing contradictions,
the gulf between erosion of truth and
survivors appears widening. Tiny ants smell
blood, exfoliation begins, from
nameless earth for the exodus of barefoot,
the epic of tragedy, something in the debris is left
for acetic reminder, a death reunion.
The pain starts the saddest saga of human
suffering, a salt lake melting in each eye and then in
every courtroom the defence for the crimes, bail -
out by the buried dark sniffing of fecundity.
The night wraps me, the land of my birth
haunts in its greenness, the wounded sea bids
refugees to hostile shores, a cracked sun
welcomes the lost umbical cords.
* On the plight of SRI LANKAN TAMILS
Satish Verma
Salvatore Ala, 12 september 2013
The earth is cradled in a grave
The sky is buried in the earth
The stones are hanging from a thread of light
And everyone here has been here before
And everyone has come a long way
And those who love meet those who hate
And those who breathe air breathe stone
And those who are fire are dust
And those who are clay shall be wine
And those who arrive meet those departing
And children find their mothers
And fathers reconcile with sons
And the old meet themselves in the young
And the young discover a road
And round the heavenly clock time is as nothing
And we cluster for warmth
At the brief fire of a thousand years
Joe Breunig, 12 september 2013
People may question the necessity of virtues,
yet they embody virility, life and beauty.
These traits aid the development of character,
while complementing the scope of Christian duty.
There’s still a time and place for everything,
and a need of their value can still be seen.
A combination of personal conduct and inner strength
bolsters us against the tedium of Life’s routines.
Qualities of Prudence, Justice, Fortitude and Temperance
combined with Faith, Hope and Charity, will assist us
in our spiritual growth and maturity for sharing…
the Brotherly Love of our beloved Christ Jesus.
Under the consistent leading of the Holy Spirit,
we may practice Courtesy, Patience and Forgiveness,
while confirming the divine principles of The Word
that should be stored within… our heart’s stillness.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Eccl 3; Psa 19:7-14; 27:1-14, 46:10; Phil 4:13;
2 Tim 3:16-17; 1 Cor 13:13; Rom 12:2
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.
Gert Strydom, 12 september 2013
In the late afternoon your words did become silent
and your movements were curtailed
as if you did not want to get up from the chair,
as if you did not want to leave me later
and outside the August wind stopped blowing
while we did say no words to each other
and outside the sun did shine
in a moment of great joy and pain
while we were clinging to each other
and the afternoon sun’s radiance did weaken
when it felt as if time poured into that moment
while time did linger but it was much too short
when everything for both of us came to a standstill
and in ecstasy we looked at each other
but in me this fear does remain
that no moment will ever again be like this.
Gert Strydom, 12 september 2013
Moments with you I cannot forget,
where I do know about the depths of our love
and in the silences that hang between us
unspoken words are caught
and sometimes just as a child
you have got to find your own words
and discover each other like strangers
and go together to an unknown place
to get a deepening there,
to find a stronger binding of you and I.
Satish Verma, 12 september 2013
After separation from death
rain-scented moon was rising
in broken sky. Night birds started
fluting one to another relentlessly;
earth unjointed, was speechless, in
failures we meet often, a little while.
I was ascetic scaling blood pollution,
the life had no mercy, incapable of healing.
You surge for the bleeding miner, the
gold missing, priest was innocent, behind
the peels lies the empty hand, insanity in
parallel depression will find a new praise.
The infinite solitude of the soldier in war
fights the demons of blind desires. One by
one they kill you from the mountain. You
rise from the ocean under twilight of winged stars.
Satish Verma
Patricia Etienne, 11 september 2013
Simply Tuesday morning, a day just like the ordinary
But to some Lucifer's hearts,
It's planned to be a day in hell
And continues to be a hellish memory to some.
Yeah, America Remembers!
A morning that goes the opposite
When the sun overtaken by cloudiness
And darkness spreads onto her land.
Yeah, America Remembers!
A morning that turns out to be
A deadly viper assassination squad.
That serves thick blood on a plate, and tears in a mug for breakfast.
Yeah, America Remembers!
A morning that rips many families apart.
and hold many hearts in sorrow
And lead many children to the orphan world.
Yeah,9/11/01
America falls onto her knees.
It's as if the sword of Zeus is planted into her heart
Oh she weeps and weeps
The tears that fall from her eyes look like the river of the unknown gods.
Oh terrorists!
You strike my land but I'm not destroyed
You shed my children blood
But most are standing tall and vigilant
You must know
With my torch holding up high
I am who they say I am
My road is illuminating for life to come.
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