Satish Verma, 28 january 2018
First encounter was skimpy
unleashing a terror
of tales. I will not find the
perfect body of a poem.
Remember,
the salt lake, where you were
drowned one day in the eyes
of the needle.
It was an ode for the failed
prophecy which predicted
the fall of an author
in the ravines of jealousy.
A trampled butterfly exudes
the yellow fumes. Meanwhile
you can draw a nude on
the road for bystanders.
Satish Verma, 27 january 2018
The tiny thrusts
and a blunt fuel
scrambled over the wet contours.
There was an ephimerality
in overdue kisses
of death.
The interplay of sex
and spirituality starts,
bites the bullet and pushes the boat.
The pungency of an elegy
was a secondhand divorce
with death.
Jealousy: sand was
under the nails. Now
I will find the remains of an ocean
in your eyes. There was nothing
else to be done than taking off
the bikini top like a death.
Satish Verma, 26 january 2018
Spherules start a pincer attack
on the modesty of an epiphany.
The manifestation was incomplete.
The windows were very small in-
the wind-palace. Only ringdoves
were sitting on the sills, cooing all day.
They were sitting in a row; cross-
legged, the naked monks. As a penance
they were getting the scalp hair pinched off.
Swearing will not help. You need to
suffer like a forgotten language,
like grass blades who bend again & again.
Joe Breunig, 25 january 2018
To some people, birds are
nothing more than eye candy;
to others, a vital part of
Earth’s ecosystem; how far
should one go to study them
in detail? Between exotic
mating rituals and building
skills, what unseen gems
can we observe? The Father
feeds and cares for all fowl,
even though they don’t sow,
reap or gather; why bother
trying to interpret His plan,
when His methodologies rise
up, beyond our ability to see?
Does He reveal Himself to Man
with genius, creativity and by
the majesty of the Heavens?
Of course, He does! Why else
do we raise our hands, sigh…
and purpose to praise Him?
Author notes
Inspired by:
Matt 6:26, 10:29-31; Psa 8:4
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
Joe Breunig, 25 january 2018
I’m dearly clinging to The Cross
of Christ, as though this Life
depends on it; with these empty
hands there’s no gain, but loss
since Salvation can’t be earned.
The vanity of accomplishments
and earthly achievements mean
nothing, seeing that it’s burned
up within the crucible of works.
My Hope remains in Christ alone
and the commitment of His Word;
I’m not motivated by a knee jerk
reaction to lies from His enemy.
Therefore, I’ll remain vigilant,
confident and sober, knowing that
on Christ, I will always rely!
Author notes
Inspired by:
John 3:16; Eph 2:8-9; Rom 3:23;
1 Pet 5:8
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
Joe Breunig, 25 january 2018
My heart and soul, warmed
by Yahweh’s Love, finds its
motivation to quietly move
in a manner that’s pleasing
to Him; since we’re formed
after His image, He knows
us best and intimately; we
in return, love Him because
He first loved us; His Word
reveals Himself… to those
who actively seek Him; we
know that He’s not a Man,
that would lie- so we can
learn to believe, to trust,
to praise and begin to see
Him with true, spiritual eyes,
so our spirits soar and rise!
Author notes
Inspired by:
Acts 17:27-28; Gen 1:27; Num 23:19;
1 John 4:19
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
Joe Breunig, 25 january 2018
Waiting on Yahweh is
an effective binding
of our soul to His;
will this Life’s quiz
be clarified within…
our identity in Christ?
We’re human beings, not
human doings; begin
to live without worry.
Haste makes waste; can
we expect real change,
if always in a hurry?
Author notes
Inspired by:
Isa 28:16
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
Joe Breunig, 25 january 2018
With morning’s dawn and dew,
the blades of wet grass beckon
unto me, to cleanse… soiled
soles; as I stride across the
silence of greenery, wondrous
sparkling of unknown diamonds
mesmerize my gaze; the wealth
of my existence is enhanced,
as I envision Christ, before
His disciples, bent over their
feet… ready to humbly serve.
Author notes
Dedicated to David Thane Cornell
Inspired by:
John 13:1-17 and
David’s poem “SECOND CHANCE”
SECOND CHANCE
When God came calling face to face
In a fatal circumstance,
Breast to breast in His embrace,
He promised me a second chance
To let me ring the morning in
And dine on dawn and dew,
My running feet to press and bless
The grass I'm passing through,
The potent wine of joy to flood
Like a bubbling spring,
Warm hosannahs in my blood
That make me want to sing.
-- from The Science Of Waiting,
Poems by David Thane Cornell.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
Satish Verma, 25 january 2018
A downy mildew.
I will undress
the leaves.
Leaving the truth
at your door,
trespassing the moon.
When a house
was felled, why were
you collecting the blueberries?
Now, a brown poem
will write your name
on the guillotine.
An ocean apart
a voice booms
a shame for an empire.
Satish Verma, 24 january 2018
The future dubs.
A pride is shattered.
The philanderer moon
sprawls over the
candlewick.
A ghost walks
through the wall.
A thin blade of
grass, holds the sun
for ransom.
Fireflies flutter in head
savagely.
I was not able to sleep.
What was the theme of the murder?
No sugar, no salt
was worthy of death.
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