Satish Verma, 12 february 2017
A little death comes every day
for the lost age.
The fingertips write your name on
ice, to burn in sun.
and still, I will say it was good.
Searing poverty of words
scrambles for a suicide vest.
No meaningless truth can save
the kleptomaniac. After the demise
of a sentence I can say, would
not go for an award. The struggle
to live in some pretentious
sexuality of the curves was over.
A trident will find
the torso of revengeful god.
Appearance was deceptive
in entire race. The father of waves
takes a bird's-eye view
of the verses flowing from the
icy lips of peaks.
Joe Breunig, 9 february 2017
Even though we have the gift of choice,
is it good to employ elective ignorance,
when it comes to our measure of Faith?
Can we be contented and simply rejoice
by choosing Life over Death, as Christ
wisely instructed us to do? Doesn’t it
behoove us to diligently learn about Him,
accept His decision to be sacrificed
and enjoy everyday life… victoriously?
If we’re applying principles of Truth
within our sphere of influence, then
shouldn’t we progress and successfully
meet new and ongoing challenges head on?
Isn’t it true, that we are not consumed,
since His compassion doesn’t fail and we
are blessed with new mercies each dawn?
Author notes
Inspired by:
Rom 12:3; Deu 30:19; Lam 3:22-23
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
Joe Breunig, 9 february 2017
My role as a poetic scribe is…
more than I imagined, or had
hoped to do; He qualified me,
as one of His spiritual nomads,
who digs within the Scriptures,
in search of those prized gems-
eternal lessons of Godly wisdom.
I’m not desiring some stratagem,
to con people in turning to Him,
but to share my heart’s delight
of a solid Faith in Christ; He
strengthens me and by His Light
guides me forward in Truth; by
this gift, I can softly voice
my limited understanding of His
Love for me; I opt to rejoice,
having accepted His sufficiency
for my Life; I’m an extension
of Today’s New Testament Church,
rising up with poetic ascension…
while embracing my true identity
in Him; by His Grace and Spirit,
I’ll write new songs, stories,
poems and hymns that will lift…
all eyes unto the eternal Godhead.
Author notes
Inspired by:
2 Cor 3:5-6 and
He takes us as we are- and makes us
more than we ever imagined. -Unknown
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
Joe Breunig, 9 february 2017
Ever glorious is our God, the One,
Who imagined and birthed the universe,
of planets, stars, black holes, dust
and these silly, clay dolls filled…
with His natural, Life-giving breath;
who would discern that His delight,
was to play into the mud, getting
His hands dirty with some earth?
Or that the roadway to Him, is
driven with the vehicle of Death.
Ever glorious is our God, the One
Who is shrouded in the mystery of
Love’s embodiment; secure of Himself,
He allowed the goodness of creation
to be tainted by the ugliness of sin;
despite the bad decisions of Man,
His divine forgiveness and sacrifice
were offered without any hesitation;
and now we’re faced with the choice
that allows us… to humbly enter in.
Author notes
Inspired by:
Rom 11:36; Psa 72:19; Gen 3;
John 3:16; Deu 30:19; Rev 14:7
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
Joe Breunig, 9 february 2017
While most people are familiar with
the principle of ‘sowing and reaping’,
it can be difficult to distinguish
between Fact and Fiction; gleaning
the Truth sometimes takes time, so
that the authentic and the fake can…
be properly separated. Sad jealousies
are found when the evil works of Man
bloom against the stark contrast of
God’s reality; seeing the good and bad,
subtly reinforces our understanding of
the wheat and tares; let us be glad,
in knowing how God divinely operates;
in Him, we can move and have our being
when our Faith is extended on behalf
of His Kingdom; when we are agreeing
with His Word, it’s easier to love and
care for others regularly, as we must;
will people observe us as His Children,
if we’re not placing in God… our trust?
Author notes
Inspired by:
Matt 13:24-30, 36-43; Acts 17:28;
1 John 3:10
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
Joe Breunig, 9 february 2017
The relationship between Christ
and Yahweh is an eternal dialogue;
a constant communication ensures
His intercession isn’t a backlog
of burdens, borne out of the pain
He suffered and endured at Calvary.
Having been clothed with the dust
of Humanity, He understood beauty
that’s found in our soul’s nature.
After all, we were made to worship
Him openly, freely and easily, with
an unfeigned heart of fellowship.
Made in His image, with the idea
to reflect the Godhead’s purpose
of living and loving everyone, we
delve beneath humanity’s surface
to discover… our identity in Him!
Author notes
Inspired by:
Gen 1:26; Rom 8:27, 8:34
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
Satish Verma, 9 february 2017
That was unscarred night.
The full moon was rising.
A contagium had spurred it to go high.
A brazen assault bleeds
the painter's eyes. He sees only
red in the pubescent rage.
She walks out of the stain,
turning into ash, urchin's
brightest moon.
Standing on the crossroads
who was burning clouds?
Rains will never come again.
Phylogeny flattens the guns.
We were hiding behind the
rituals watching the fall of light.
I will make my own truce
with death. I refuse to walk
under the belly of smoke.
Satish Verma, 8 february 2017
Enemy was within;
invisible,
biting into iris.
Sea was asking,
would you like to sign
on my waves?
I was carrying
the relics. Body wants
to take revenge.
Lifting a kiss
from your lips.
O my death,
I am
living again;
changing the clothes.
A swarm of honey bees
was decending,
near a volcano.
Satish Verma, 7 february 2017
How can you unsee an etched wound?
The name will tell the moon.
An empty sky now calls for
the rains.
What was it-
the ceremonial farewell?
A dependable pain now starts
pulling out the sharpnels from the body.
You may call it
meaningless. My poem now
moves between the stings. Somebody
was going for a merciless kill.
Satish Verma, 6 february 2017
Does it stir you,
a body bag?
Journey of million years
stops here,
decoding the numbers.
A humming bird
inflight catches a dilemma
before the sun sets on the
whirring wings.
The moon will never be the same.
Hanging by a thread
a suicide bomber memorializes
the unhealing land.
Who will cry
when he is gone?
Poetry
Prose
Photography
Graphics
Video poems
Postcards
Diary
Books
Handmade
