Joe Breunig, 12 november 2016
Can you really expect to cope,
if you’re not connected to Hope?
Faith in Christ is a requisite;
let’s not be… overly delicate
in discussing this matter today;
He alone is the Life, Truth and Way!
Our need for a real relationship
with Him, pushes us towards kinship;
after all, we’re to be joint-heirs
and strive to be spiritually aware
of our Heavenly responsibilities!
It’s time to grow up, mature and see
the plan and purpose God has for us.
With our identity in Christ Jesus,
we find Life’s meaning and its scope,
seeing that we’re… connected to Hope.
Author notes
Inspired by:
Titu 2:11-14
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.
Satish Verma, 12 november 2016
After scarring, the big gap
confronts a mascot.
The caster is telling a lie.
Under shock and anger
you start cursing the renegade truth.
Black windows now perceive the light.
Nobody wants to catch the dust now,
falling from the stars.
War of words comes to disarming of
wailing hands.
I reconcile with the setting sun.
Back and forth, back and forth
the unabashed, moves a bridal moon.
Satish Verma, 11 november 2016
Deep inside
there was a simian jealousy.
The opaque words will raise
a burnt-out storm –
returning the whole family
of white flowers to the moon.
The falling
inside the bowl
before the snake could strike
interrupting the dead soldiers
of unknown war-
weapon-free.
A stunning invasion
of the spoons in summer months,
when sweat was expensive than
truth and a sentence
was lost between the punctuations.
Yet I was going to recite a poem.
Satish Verma, 10 november 2016
Burying
your titanium teeth
in flawless
apples.
You release
a terror.
The scream.
Centuries-
of fear
and fear of
centuries
chasing a mysterious silence.
The scream.
Satish Verma, 9 november 2016
Miranda:
talk to your restive soul,
elementally abstract.
Home –
was minimal comfort,
for the flying birds.
Clock,
to explode today
on your face.
You were eying
the bride,
in turbulent sky.
Who had
brought the moon
at Agave’s feet?
Satish Verma, 7 november 2016
A vigil for scrolls:
who writes the history now?
Actors are barbaric now –
playing the malicious music of
rebirth.
There is no threat now from intimate-
bombers.
Be drunk on my breast –
in lunar landscape, wearing no shoes.
Buddha has lost his libido.
Can you fix the bed of black
roses?
A sick mind now writes-
a transgender prose.
Satish Verma, 6 november 2016
The snarled monogamy
needs a firework.
A solitary moon walks on a lake
nonchalantly.
The marriage
between the planet and moon
was falling apart.
In amphora lies the secret
of a jeweled crown. Cynical
berries were searching
a quartz to find the truth of the bush
where the colors were mixed.
There is no further news of
half-crazy stars who became
pretty girls to start trading
their shines.
Satish Verma, 5 november 2016
A chocolaty moon was rising.
I have lost my riverbed.
Accuser has become accused.
The hangman has shifted
the ground while glistening
in moonlight. Oxymoronic?
Eponym exited the lips of a drone fly.
A flotilla of tears
dies in an eye of a storm.
An audacity of a drifter
to stop the promiscuous honors
of strangers in death.
Only night-bloomers will watch
the sunrise in eternal lonliness.
The roots will always stay in dark.
Joe Breunig, 4 november 2016
Unlike Moses, we should live…
with unveiled faces, letting
the Light of our Faith shine;
as His Children, we’re getting
favor among men; with clear eyes,
smiles and a bright disposition,
our efforts will be pleasing unto
The Lord, as we honor His position
as King of kings; He divinely rules
and reigns in our lives and hearts.
His holy promises remain steadfast
and His Holy Spirit will never depart
from us; as His human candles, our
unveiled faces pierce the darkness,
wherever our journey takes us; therefore,
let us shine… with His righteousness.
Author notes
Inspired by:
Exo 2:25; Prov 3:4, 8:35; 2 Cor 3:18
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.
Satish Verma, 4 november 2016
1
The reluctant thereness
I want to embrace.
The spiritualism without a god?
This whispering darkness -
always becomes an incensed flesh.
I unwrap myself.
2
Please let me touch
the multistrands of understanding.
After all what was a religion?
You were always seeking an exit.
The betrayal, godliness and
fog hours. I always remained obsessed
with the failing lights.
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