Gert Strydom, 11 september 2013
That an end must come
to the love between us,
that in death we will not miss each other,
not even will know about flowers blooming
and that every human being and all living things
with time will perish,
that all sheer joy and pain
and the things to which a person strives a life long
at a time will go to naught,
is knowledge of which I have got to take heed
but still I do know that God holds everything in His hand
and He writes down every person’s character and humanity
with His almighty pen
until the day when even the elements will burn
and I know that He is beginning a new world
with each and every wonderful and lovely thing.
Gert Strydom, 11 september 2013
Tonight the sea is tranquil
and in the distance
the lights of the lighthouse flashes
and is gone
and the nearby Warf is still
while near the horizon a ship moves on
and cars move high up on the hill.
Far away over the sea
there are places
where I have never been
and continents and countries
that I have never seen
and at their set rhythm and time
the waves rushes in
and thunder on the big rocks
as they have from the begin
and yet like a grain of sand
I remain in God’s almighty hand.
Satish Verma, 11 september 2013
Between she and he
and sexuality swoops a gender
patenting a word, as it is,
at the birth's door pretending to
be a kiss of radical thought.
Mediocrity always has an intentionality
with colored plumage, a passionate
dance before the final plunge of
a true love. Black or white, somebody
is etching a dangerous scar on the skin
of a maimed girl. Myalgia of a
nation like a lipless epic on the
while book which cannot be completed.
I wanted to believe in never tomorrow.
Satish Verma
Geetima Baruah Sarma, 10 september 2013
Season’s yield,
Granaries filled,
Mid-January,
Festival Bhogali.
Uruka evening,
Enjoyment and feasting,
Building the Bhelaghar,
Pranks with the neighbour.
The morning after,
Obeisance to the God of fire,
Burning the tall Meji,
Made of bamboo and paddy.
Sunga pitha, kaath aloo,
Customary delights of Magh Bihu,
With friends and families,
Flavours of Assamese delicacies.
[Published in ‘Poetreecreations’ on 8 September 2013]
Short note: Bhogali Bihu is a harvest festival of Assam, a state of north-east India. The festival is celebrated in mid-January, marking the end of the harvest season. Bhogali means feasting and enjoyment. It is also known as Magh Bihu as celebrations are held in the month of Magh, the tenth month of the Assamese calendar. On the eve known as Uruka, people gather for a community feast with friends and families. A variety of dishes that include meat and fish are cooked over wood flame. Using bamboo and paddy, a temporary hut called Bhelaghar and a tall structure known as Meji are built. Merriment continues throughout the night as youths play pranks like stealing vegetables from the neighbour’s garden. Next morning, offerings are made to the God of fire and people enjoy the traditional delicacies like sunga pitha, kaath aloo etc.
Gert Strydom, 10 september 2013
Maybe you will still love me
when I die, when I loose all life
and lie under the dark lumps of sand
and become part of the earth
and maybe someone will say later
that nothing could curtail our love
that we did love each other
like no others could.
Gert Strydom, 10 september 2013
(after N.P. van Wyk Louw)
In a moment my humanity
wants to come to you
and now so suddenly,
let out and tell real things
which make other people numb
and does astonish them
and talk about painful never told things,
have a conversation about the matters
that lies deep in the heart,
speak about things that we might want different,
about things that other people would rather avoid
but when the moon outside rises snow-white,
when the doves at sunset still do coo,
when the smell of flowering jasmine is on the air,
then for moments I do feel stupid
while frequently you gazing loving at me.
[Reference: “Grense” (borders) by N.P. van Wyk Louw.]
Satish Verma, 10 september 2013
Sparks are dimmed. No use
collecting them. I will burn my home
to get light.
My god was sleeping.
Let me use the night goggles.
On the ridge walks a silhouette of
limping buddha,
his neck broken.
I did not help myself
falling. He had asked me
'Are you me?'
The anxiety of lifting the rock
again. I gather the grass leaves
on my toes.
Nobody wants to ruin the day
looking at baby silence,
featureless, mute.
Satish Verma
Bron Dayvid, 9 september 2013
I want to love again
I want to drift aimlessly in your warmth
I want to fall as a drunkard from the sweet taste of the elixir on your lips
I want to lay my head across your chest and count the beats of your heart until it synchronizes with mine
I want that never ending
Forever in the present
Forever in your presence
I want your fingers to submerge into the roots of my hair and dance from nap to nap to the rhythm of you
I want you to tell me you love me over and over even though I know but act as If I have Amnesia
Act as if I’m hard of hearing
I want you to act like nothing but your beautiful self
I want to wake up to your beautiful face next to mine
I want you to know you’re beautiful
I want you to hear it everyday
I want you to see it
I want you to feel it
I want you to feel me
I want you to want me
As bad as I want you
Then I want you to sleep
In hope that you might have the same dream that I have
The dream were we're still in love
The one where you still know I exist
The one where we still care
The dream I have every night
The same dream I wish you would have
Then maybe it could stop being a dream
And maybe I could stop being afraid to sleep
Because I dream about the dream but I dread when I awake without the dream girl
I don't want the dream
I just want the dream girl
I just want love again
I just want love
Gert Strydom, 9 september 2013
I do not know why without any cause
you let a barrier, some impediments arise,
why you want to flee away from me
and lash out when I do not deserve
any kind of pain or a scolding?
Truth be told you do hold me dear
but at times act lowly when I am near
and I do wonder about the reasons in your heart,
if you truly at times want to cause us to part?
As a guest, at times I do not feel worthy to be near
and you above all other things I still hold dear
and sometimes at night awake I do lie
while the daily happenings again passes me by,
knowing that love is such a brittle, fragile thing.
Gert Strydom, 9 september 2013
Somewhere a window rattles
from the rainy wind
and even the lightning bolts sound sad
but you have moved on
and incomprehension comes with a cold anguish.
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