Satish Verma, 22 november 2017
Midcloud of the –
rainy day.
I am waiting for
the winged guests.
*
In trance
I catch the flying words.
The blank paper
prints the nude.
*
I need
to cover the sharp contours.
You will find
a mystic profile.
Satish Verma, 21 november 2017
Midcloud of the –
rainy day.
I am waiting for
the winged guests.
*
In trance
I catch the flying words.
The blank paper
prints the nude.
*
I need
to cover the sharp contours.
You will find
a mystic profile.
George Krokos, 21 november 2017
After we scale the heights and reach the top
at some point there a while we have to stop.
_________________________________________
George Krokos, 21 november 2017
I have no reservations at all in loving You
and saying this is my proof of it being true.
You're the only one who sees into my heart
no matter where I am though it seems apart.
I can't hide any of my feelings towards You
that rise up from within whatever I may do.
They're so strong at times I'm beside myself
and find that I am acting as such like an elf.
If they really do not draw You closer to me
then I'm bereft of Your love and needn't be.
Please don't hold back in giving any advice
as to how I will be able Your love to entice.
Pure love isn't a game that anyone can play
but is reserved for those who go all the way.
__________________________________
George Krokos, 21 november 2017
I am at a loss when it comes to loving thee
and wonder how this could ever really be.
Love's a feeling that rises up from the heart
and is directed towards one who's apart;
when two people may both casually greet
or when they are by fate destined to meet.
___________________________
George Krokos, 21 november 2017
There was sunlight pouring down
in the park and on the ground
where it could also be seen
the grass had a brighter sheen.
All the shadows that were cast
would for a while yet still last
and the beauty of that sight
was distinguished in the light.
__________________
Note: This was written to go with my graphic piece titled: Sunlight In The Park 1
Renato N. Mascardo, 20 november 2017
terpsichore
the muse
tapped Anetand
you to share with us your
joy on the floor void now of a
bel-esprit//
renato
monday 20 november 2017
Satish Verma, 19 november 2017
To confront his terror
he changed the game
plan for a mystery dive.
The custodian of a flame
will show serendipity.
Sun was enveloped in a dark matter.
The Teflon has disappeared.
You will remember the things-
you did not understand.
Someone nips at your heels.
You run faster. The evil
was flying home.
The house was in disarray.
Give me a comb to keep
the dark figures out.
Satish Verma, 18 november 2017
Go forth alone, as a beast,
as a bird, as a fish.
There were knots in the breast
to be dissolved.
Unfrequented, lust brings
a folded rose. A foeless
territory to explore the -
heaven of fingers.
Beautiful. I like you
Your smile enters the knife.
The knife goes into the heart.
The heart finds an angel.
Pomegranates. Dark red.
Oozing on the edges for
accepting the brunt of
a corrosive reversal.
Satish Verma, 17 november 2017
The rain washed,
moon. I am going to talk,
to clouds,
for a pause.
*
A serene
quietness.
Rain comes down in rhythmic dance.
No bird will sing now.
*
I will watch,
the bougainvilleas.
Shedding the coloured bracts
on velvety grass.
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