Joe Breunig

Joe Breunig, 14 july 2017

Poem: Trencherman

Eating and drinking, to excess
is an insalubrious proposition;
our gluttony greatly epitomizes
the selfishness that consumes us
 
when we’re blinded… by our lust.
Our poor behavior demonstrates
the foolishness of our flesh; if
we’re failing to ultimately trust
 
Him, then we’ll sow the seeds of
destruction and reap the ungodly
results, which may include death.
Despite our mistakes, His Love
 
covers us, as He patiently waits
for us to respond with the prayers
of a repentant heart; therefore,
let’s resume a way that’s straight
 
and narrow- the path towards Christ!
 
 
 
Author notes
 
Inspired by:
Luke 12:20; Gal 6:8; Matt 7:13-14
 
Trencherman: Person devoted to excessive eating and drinking.
 
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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Joe Breunig

Joe Breunig, 14 july 2017

Poem: Repentant State

With a proper attitude of humility,
we can die to ourselves daily, as
Christ leads us on our path of Faith.
In a repentant state, we will see
 
that it becomes much easier to love
others- as we should! Our actions,
before men, allow His Light to shine
through us; His Word countermoves
 
against enemy attacks, when we speak
His Truth over Life’s circumstances.
We can overcome, knowing that Christ
gives us strength, when we’re weak.
 
 
 
Author notes
 
Inspired by:
Matt 16:24–25; Mark 8:34–35; Rom 6-8;
Luke 13:3, 14:27; Gal 2:20, 5:24;  
2 Cor 12:9-10
 
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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Joe Breunig

Joe Breunig, 14 july 2017

Poem: Derailed Victories

Not heeding the real Truth of Christ,
will lead us into derailed victories;
in addition, we’ve been challenged to
question and make spiritual inquiries
 
regarding the legitimacy of His Word.
We need to be diligent in our studies
of the Scriptures, showing ourselves
approved of Him and not lazy nobodies,
 
who remain ignorant of His principles.
After all, it’s The Spirit’s pleasure
to lead us into everlasting Truth; our
inclination is to have that treasure…
 
of Christ within our hearts each day
and to enjoy the presence of His sway!
 
 
 
Author notes
 
Inspired by:
2 Cor 2:14; Judg 18:5-6; John 16:13-15;
Matt 6:21; Psa 119:10-17; Col 3:1-3
 
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9Y
 
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 14 july 2017

Blemishes

Without assent 
I open your book 
to find your crazy god on mat. 
 
Love was a blind bird 
in a state of agony. 
Learning to fly. 
 
Moon would not reply 
through aslant door. 
Something was between us. 
 
Here, now a sordid tale 
breaks the taboo. They 
were investing on skin. 
 
It was a cheap wine 
in a golden chalice, 
for a lipless mouth.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 13 july 2017

Into The Tempest

The dichotomy was complete. 
I walk in your tears 
to move away. 
 
The night smelt like a 
burnt-out doll, and I was 
quaking inside like a peony lip. 
 
The sunk baby. You stay 
uncovered in half-sleep. 
The drag of the noose around- 
 
your neck was evident. I 
want to squeeze the pods. 
Why did not the pollen meet- 
 
the stigma? The needles are 
coming out of the eyes. A prose 
is gone. The poem walks in.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 12 july 2017

Turning Gray

You wanted to understand 
the tenor of wet, heavy lids ― 
that had emigrated from 
deep oceanic eyes. 
 
You believed―it will go on 
for ever. Roused in peace. 
I will listen to the voice of river 
lapping at the shores of pain. 
 
Cocoon was lying still, will 
not open to us. I was ready 
to receive the death at door. 
But it was a stripteaser. 
 
The lovers will meet in the 
wilderness, ride the lioness 
and black berries will go to 
moon for the payment of wages.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 11 july 2017

Stonewashed

It laps up the solitude. 
A flame hits the stonewall 
of silence. 
 
A dust cloud, covers 
the finale of conflict. 
Nobody wins the race. 
 
You arrogate to yourself 
the skill to accept the heat of argument. 
Can you reach the end of thought? 
 
Ravishing black 
picks up the fallen moon. 
Somebody will go green. 
 
If I could walk on 
the lake? The faithless will 
wreck the pledge.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 10 july 2017

*on 100th Birthday Of Alan Turing

Why were you collecting the 
people all around? 
Unsure of yourself on the 
ambiguity of an inquest? 
 
I remained unhappy my 
whole life and left the 
bed after chemical-castration, 
in hurry. 
 
In hindsight inside the 
nightmare room, what was 
left to imagination? The 
half-eated apple? 
 
Hold my hand. I am coming 
with you, to settle 
my account with god, for 
creating people of this type. 
 
 
• 
 
The purple spillage 24 June 2012 
was ready to play with- 
fire, for estranged lover, 
 
inventing a fake enemy. 
What if I die again and 
again for you. 
 
It begs the identity of a 
black moon, perhaps to reflect 
the stuttering homophobia. 
 
Crossing the time zones, searching 
the old snow, in the cracks of 
volcanic rocks, you kiss a clove bud. 
 
In anger, I receive your ashes, 
when it was raining blue. 
A baby died in a crib, unattended. 
 
 
*Code breaking genius, founder of computer science, who allegedly committed suicide on 7th June 1954.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 9 july 2017

Leaves Of Roses

A racial profile begins 
between black and white. 
A silver moon ambles 
as a prelude to dark music. 
 
A winter night tosses hundred 
excuses, 
for not lighting the lamps. 
 
Words were still trying to 
find the ropes. 
 
You should know your boundaries. 
The honeysuckle will 
not graze your lips. 
 
The salt of earth settles 
in tears of dawn.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 8 july 2017

Wings Attached

In slap at your icarian path 
the call was not taken 
from inside me. 
 
Anxiety in a troupe of clouds 
was rising. A deep dissent 
within winds surfaces after sunset. 
 
On the footpath comes a noun 
in the land of abuses, 
taking a vow of silence. 
 
The moon becomes green 
in a blue sky to get 
the blessings of surging frost. 
 
Knew nothing about the 
future flooding of apples. 
Falling from the tree.


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