Joe Breunig, 29 may 2017
We’ve been freed from the captivity
of our sinful, blackened hearts;
The Lord has changed our tears into
joy and thankfulness; can’t we see
that we should be rejoicing everyday?
Yahweh reigns supremely over Zion
and our humbled bosoms; He’s provided
His Word; with The Spirit, His sway
encompasses our own with utmost peace.
Within our souls, His seeds of Truth
have been planted; His Presence waters
our existence; His purpose is released
as we go forward… progressing in Faith!
Author notes
Inspired by:
Psa 126; Jer 17:8
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
Satish Verma, 28 may 2017
A leopardess dies on a tree.
No molestation was reported.
Exploring your breast
why were you throwing salt?
As if almost needing a space
you ran to top. A solid truth
looks like a quasicrystal
against the nature.
Unbosoming myself I am
traveling in vacuum. Empty
hands don't hold any ancestors.
I am carrying my unborn voice.
Now don't cry, don't. You are
reaching home at the end of a
tunnel. A featureless fog will let you in,
in a fatherless world.
Satish Verma, 27 may 2017
The arch
in the targeted killing
was the bet when you
lost your virginity.
A slow dance
at the cold river of flesh,
with genitalia wiped off.
I was constructing-
your genome
from you saliva. Prayer
was a form of begging
before an unpardonable sin.
The gradient
parting the hills will
find another arena
to start the game.
Satish Verma, 23 may 2017
Picking a lock you break
a bloodline. A stargazer
maps the astrological signs
and connects with the
moon in oviduct:
wriggling,
coiling.
There were no foeticide qualms,
in rappelling to shamanic healing.
It was not a deference for any
deity. A ritual
gives you
name, gives
you fame.
Wearing a wooden sandal which
keeps you electrified with
divinity. This is ambulatory.
You move on the green earth
squashing the grass,
grasshoppers
beating the
Venus.
Joe Breunig, 19 may 2017
People are funny creatures, who seem
unsure about the poetry, that I compose;
their lack of understanding implies that
my poems are nothing, but a series of…
spiritual abstractions. Unable to gleam
the enduring Truth of Yahweh, with eyes
of Faith, they ignorantly dismiss claims
of what God has done in Love… for them!
Without Christians demonstrating how to
live properly, their spirits won’t rise
up and see the need for a relationship
with Christ; if we’re not enjoying some
personal victories ourselves, then our
effectiveness is… obviously diminished.
We should be content, bound in fellowship
with Christ and energetically living out
our Faith! Moral regulations don’t draw
people to God; however, His joy within
us does; let our Faith be strong, vibrant
and visible, whereby people shed doubts…
of Who, God is and why He’s worthy of praise.
Author notes
Inspired by:
Eze 12:2
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
Joe Breunig, 13 may 2017
How will I be perceived,
after my passing? Will
dissections of my soul
be realized from the…
poetry I leave behind?
Will anyone really care?
Can my experiences… be
defined separately from
Faith’s spiritual Light?
Will I be imagined to be
a fraud, with regard to
the principles of God?
By the time I’m noticed,
by those intentionally
choosing to rightly evaluate
my literary worth, their
opinions are a moot point
to my current existence.
After all, my personal bias
show be evident within my
compositions; perhaps, when
I bowed before my Maker, I’ll
know the real truth of myself.
Before Him, it won’t matter,
since I’m still loved.
Author notes
Inspired by:
Acts 17:28
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
Joe Breunig, 13 may 2017
The waves of new revelation
are softly overflowing me,
when I’m desiring to see…
myself as part of a nation
that’s birthed for eternity.
Faith allows me to envision
my future with His precision,
through experiential reality.
As my spirit flies and soars,
I’m drawn closer to Him; words
of His truth, keep me stirred
to discover God’s open doors
and His reality of Salvation.
Author notes
Inspired by:
John 8:31, 17:23
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
Joe Breunig, 13 may 2017
Mankind’s genuine Life is found
in the blood, not in the heart,
nor in the mind; the guilt of sin
leads all to Death. As His blood
ran down onto Golgotha’s ground,
The Lamb’s atonement was released
and in that moment, we were bound
to Yahweh by the “Scarlet Thread”
of Christ’s Love for us. With Him
serving as Humanity’s High Priest,
Salvation requires us to partake
in His sacrifice, via acceptance
of His gift in the recognition of
our guilt from sin; this allows
The Father to properly adjudicate
and satisfy His requirements for
justice and His desire for mercy.
And now forgiveness is available
to all; Christ remains patient,
as He knocks on our heart’s door
while offering God’s free gift of
eternal Life and everlasting Love.
Author notes
Inspired by:
Lev 17:11; John 19:31-37; Heb 7:25;
Eze 18:4, 18:20; Rom 6:23
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
Joe Breunig, 5 may 2017
O Lord, once again, I have made a
conscious decision to set aside…
my ego and earthly plans to spend
quality time with You; as I strive
against the nonsense, troubling my
heart, allow your Holy Spirit to
cascade as a waterfall upon this
flesh, with the freshness of a new
dew that joyfully enhances my world
in unexpected ways. Overwhelm my soul
with an outpouring of Your Essence,
whereby the inward, God-shaped hole
in my heart is… filled by You alone!
On this path for me, I’ll freely roam
in search of songs and poetic verses
that lead me towards my Heavenly home.
Author notes
Inspired by:
Psa 42:7-8
Dedicated to Rev. Marilyn S. Glavin
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
steven cooke, 4 may 2017
(The word thee is a Yorshire word still used today it means you)
(Spanish Winter refers to the Flu epidemic that killed 18 million in 1918)
.(the red step is what you see on old terraced houses which are always curved from generations of scrubbing. Sheffield in South Yorkshire still has many properties with this step.
The Red Step and Thee
.
Progress dissolves the paint of Lowry’s image
never to be seen again in children’s eyes.
Faceless individuals
blurred in match stick graves,
witnessed by strangers
from a forgotten window
In the clouds of the last steam train.
.
The homes of yesterdays hovel
covered in blackened walls of soot.
Leaves a legacy
that the faeces of wealth has moved on
and brown field is the apology
that council apostles give.
.
Still the echoes of humanity
gives way to a church
that only the old can see.
The last survivors of a planet
Where rescue has been abandoned by time.
.
Memories of Jericho greet
the historians camera,
as the dust removes the sun
from cataract eyes holding the past
.
The smash of the wrecking ball
mimic’s a galaxies demise.
The stars of yesterday
leave a trace of community
where the crucible of men,
were born in corrupted air that hides
the sacrifice of life.
.
An equation that is beyond this universe
for life is an illusion that only fading eyes can see.
Yet suffering and graft is survival,
the heat of furnace puts bread on the table
while the molten metal reflects
the souls of men to God.
.
A reflection that reminds the living,
of the aching poverty that haunts
a callused hand,
reaching for a drunken solace that gives
existence to a temporary peace.
.
While a palace called the workhouse
competes with mortality like a dying star.
Churning the names of nobody into oblivion.
.
Rest is for the fools on the hill
while sleep harbours the devil.
Bread will burn only for 30 pieces of silver
and Sunday will always demand
a service to God.
.
Life bides its time in a failing body,
old age will fill this dark space.
Never to be spoken.
For youth is best savoured while it lasts.
.
Redemption is found in a girl with rags for pigtails,
who sees the boy in taverns light.
Pock marked and spoken in a language
that only thee will understand
.
This girl is where creation takes back all that is lost
for her home is the only universe that matters.
A terraced house is a place of love
where the horrors of life cannot pass.
.
A sanctuary where the roots of creation
mirror the seedlings of a forest to come,
that is protected by an ancient cross
which no atheist can steal.
A humble red step,
curved like the cup of Christ
.
Here lies the history of forgotten souls.
A family known only to the ledgers quill.
Dirty feet, tiny and large,
anointed by a destiny that could not be avoided
Happiness is to savour and share
the bread and dripping
Scraped in obedience
of a penitent wage.
.
Welcome cannot afford a mat.
A greeting is met by a red step
that only a true King would understand.
Kept sacred in cleanliness
by scrubbing away the misfortunes of life.
This is the shield
of a proud woman who bled away her life
for family and husband
and children lost to disease and poverty.
.
Happiness and sorrow will always cross this step
but all will find absolution.
For woman is the priest and confessor
she is the oak that defies this darkness.
A girl apprentice turned master
in the keeping of the red step.
.
And though her flame blew out
in the wind of a Spanish winter
an ember of light still flickers in the sky.
.
Not sought by astronomers
nor wished on by lovers.
She is just there.
Watching over the forest
that her spirit created
Known only to God
and the children that love left behind..
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