Satish Verma, 7 november 2017
I will accept
the curse
of acquisition.
You wear an epic
on the fingers.
I read a virgin.
My shadow joins
the moon at night.
How tall were you?
Hold my arm
once. In terror
I had kisses an old flame.
Death will be
my only landmark.
My journey ends in your arms.
Satish Verma, 2 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, 1 november 2017
You done me
mosaic.
The rover has landed
on Mars.
Will you come
tonight?
Circa.
I was searching
the white ants
on the blackboard.
They had drawn
a map
of the moon.
I would not
cry,
for the fallen tree.
It had left
the legacy
of ropes.
Satish Verma, 31 october 2017
How timeless
You were,
O, violence;
After summary executions.
A climactric battle
Rages on, with self.
Inside you, seeking devastatingly-
The brown earth.
After the black night,
I will wait for a bright
Sun. it is there, feel
Of sharp landing, through the eye of a needle.
Freedom from the legacy
Of legends. Where you were,
There was no traffic
Of crawling truths.
Satish Verma, 30 october 2017
Seven minutes of terror,
and fourth generation of missiles.
Can they go together?
And road stops here?
An honour killing will
ensue? Do you think so?
Ethnic hate runs deep in
seeking revenge by remote sensing.
I miss my ego. The poet’s
pride; oscillating between
water and beach. There was no
boat in sight.
Sitting on a rock. I visualize
the firebrand west. Moon was rising.
There was no rhyming in verse or
cascading fall. Any one can climb-
the tree and start throwing down
the ripe mangoes. Was it a harvesting
time of severing the cords.
Satish Verma, 29 october 2017
The invisible
throws a visible image
without a tether.
Do you see the god?
Was a matter of faith?
You tie a thread on the wall. Longing
finally reaches climax. Gravity
defies a flying dream.
You had erred, yet
failed to accept the guilt.
A scariest moment was,
when you entered the morph.
It was a U-turn. Robots
will dictate the polity. You
alight on a rostrum; like
a lovely pink swallow.
Satish Verma, 28 october 2017
Drought had entered
into grass roots.
It was a perfect landing.
Sequential. You are
chopped into pieces. A shoal
of fish will make you disappear.
The vacancy will call
a choreographed entry. The
descent will find a goldenrod.
Snow-capped peaks. It
is difficult to stay for a long time.
You climb down. River remains dry.
Satish Verma, 27 october 2017
A squirrel on a stone bull
revives a genre,
after a black rose
fell on the lips of tremor.
One amphibian was always there
part in water and part on land.
Climbing on words,
to become an avis -
the avatar of a flying god.
There was no song -
on the bridge of tears. Let us
share a lost dream.
Do you find seashell in the
desert of diction? Here once a
river flowed under the rocks.
Friends don't squeeze the moon.
It was honey in a blue urn,
collecting the morning rays.
Paweł Szkołut, 26 october 2017
You are a child of the Universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
Desiderata
Hidden in the shadow of the winter evening
surrounded by the infinite space
I go through the darkness
still to seek You
to talk and listen
sailing through the abyss of a night and dream
I search for your face
when I get up in the morning
I feel the touch of your fingertips
in my eyes it glimpses the beauty and ugliness of this world
in yours - I can see the reflection of all the stars and planets
with every day I travel further away
from the world of illusion and failure
entering deeper into the Kingdom's space
I try to weigh every thought and word
I listen daily to the silence bearing the music
and I look into the light dispersing the darkness
of the primordial chaos
every morning washed in the dawn's dew
I am born again,
watching out for Your face -
I am a child of the Universe
II 2005
Joe Breunig, 26 october 2017
Are we not to be the…
faint illumination of
Christ, reflecting Him
with actions of Love?
As terrestrial beings,
we’re continually mired
by an encasement of clay;
can our Faith be fired
up by our relationship to
our eternal Lord and Savior?
Fake Christianity will be
revealed in poor behaviors
that can be recognized by
anyone; as human candles,
Faith can shine brightly.
Avoiding personal scandals
is achievable, when we’re
purposed to live as Christ.
After all, no one else can
provide… everlasting Life!
Author notes
Inspired by:
Psa 18:28; 1 John 1:5-7; Prov 20:27
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
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