Joe Breunig, 5 march 2017
Are you today, wasting your wilderness?
Don’t you know, it’s appointed by God?
Nothing is squandered in His economy;
are you diligently seeking His holiness?
Do you realize, that He will humble you,
will test you and will do right by you?
Are you prepared for the future blessing,
that’s on its way? Soon you will view
God’s plan and purpose that He’s crafted…
especially for you! Rejoice loudly now!
Though you’re excessively burdened with
challenges, you’ve been divinely adapted
with abilities and strength to become
flexible, to be led by His glory cloud,
not taking matters into your own hands;
are you allowing Him to loving plumb…
your weary soul and eternal spirit?
Author notes
Inspired by:
Rom 8:28; Deu 8; Jam 1:1-4; 2 Cor 1:8-9;
Num 9:15-10
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
Satish Verma, 4 march 2017
The animal thing inside:
My half-brother,
was unsettling me.
Over the sunset I watch
the drawing procession
carrying the dead body of a tiger.
The light is fading. The stripes
were becoming a myth. The
guest was ready to depart.
I am holding the molten lava
in an urn. In the black sky
a satellite burns to undo the grief.
There is no death, no stopping.
A face pressed between the leaves
of a book smiles.
You come back to me in rains.
I call you by cinders dancing
in the mirror of whistling time.
Satish Verma, 3 march 2017
There was a big question. Why
one was not raped.
It hits the gate of heaven.
The moon has not risen.
I become a victim of an elegy
before my demise.
Thus I am back to square one,
when I had not fallen in love
and you were still in errancy.
Pleading for levitation in tender
zone.It was the blackbird
which was not ready to swallow a moon.
Scaling the peaks without climbing.
I am going to bring down the milk
of an artist, who would not
paint a goddess.
Satish Verma, 2 march 2017
I asked the suicide bomber,
“why you want to throw yourself
to your death
scattering arms and legs? ”
A beautiful moon
then, rammed into a golden lake
to find the secret age of
a wee god.
I felt the colossal waste
and said, look within first
and then cross the river
of arguments.
Like a diamond ring
I wear the truth of morning sun.
My heart will ask, what was
the role of night in draping
the stars around the deceiver.
Satish Verma, 1 march 2017
The moon was moving
stealthily in wilderness.
Time was running out
tracing the shape.
I let her go, the
comely thing, putting on
hold, the teetering
poem.
Running faster than light, the
words catch you in midstream.
A warlord wants to put on
a helmet in night.
It was raining sparks and
cinders. You walk along the
redoubts, obliterating
simmering footsteps.
I am not a loser
dancing in the pit of snakes.
Bring the sweetness of venom.
I am alive.
Satish Verma, 28 february 2017
Mountains were coming down to
never-home,
in surreal rebuff to shaking earth;
emerging from the shadows of sky.
In groping for the legs
this was the myth of lynching.
You are drenched in the rains
of promises.
A kiss for each lethal penetration,
for global time-
you are becoming a wasteland
borne out of swollen fingertips-
who would not write any name.
The many words of pain are finding
a new meaning from the vocabulary
of conceit and betrayals.
A deliberate isolation brings
the sound sleep to ashes to become a thing.
Satish Verma, 27 february 2017
The lesson
of sudden fall
and forgotten kiss.
Everytime I was afraid of me
unforgiving the gorge
of blue mountains.
When I usher you in sun
you flare up in color violet-green
I stay in ebony's arms -
with eye spaces
and everything turns water,
water of a lake.
I will not remember the shooting
stars when you are beside me.
Drifting curves had left behind
the seeds, planted under the moon.
Now they are exploding
one by one in the conch.
•
Tending to my pain
when you were unborn
O my poem
how you lay on me
asking for the whole truth
which would undo the helix
in eye long vision.
If the loneliness smiles
I will call you.
I will call you.
Satish Verma, 26 february 2017
You will not abandon me,
but kill me gently
reciting a hymn.
As if the speech was slurred,
after the encounter.
Time. It was not yours, not mine.
Punctuated again in
less moon,
I am searching the frozen lake.
Unuttered gratitude. I
will not submit the ultimate.
Barrier reef was rising.
I sit alone
down the lane.
Waiting for the sunset.
Joe Breunig, 25 february 2017
Do we need to debate an argument
of objective morality, to prove
God’s existence? Can’t we look…
upward towards the sky and beyond,
to clearly observe a magnificence
of His, spectacular handiwork?
Are we nothing more than animals,
stuck in a plague-filled universe
of endless, ruinous destruction?
Are certain levels of violence
deemed acceptable and necessary?
Are we seeking excuses… to shirk
away from the responsibilities
of being our brother’s keeper?
Can our human actions be judged
simply, as either good or bad,
to match our current disposition?
Can any of our behaviors work
favorably, to move us from a state
of chaos to one of divine peace?
Is Love and self-sacrifice genuine?
Or should we just live with a sad
realization, that we prefer to act
badly as only… inhumane jerks?
Author notes
Inspired by:
Gen 4:9, 6:5; Jer 17:9; 1 John 4:8
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
Joe Breunig, 25 february 2017
With the Hebrew letters of MEM,
VAV, LAMED and SHIN, one finds
an inner meaning overlooked by
most people; it also condemns
those who are following Satan.
Although its primary influence
is a declaration of serenity
and peace, souls may be shaken-
as they learn about the prayer’s
prophetic nature; its numeric and
pictographic language contributes
another, sizable spiritual layer
to its foundational definition.
At its core, it translates to:
“Destroy all authority connected
with any chaos and confusion.”
Author notes
Inspired by:
1 Cor 14:33 and (שָׁלוֹם)
Shalom (in Hebrew)
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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