Satish Verma, 28 june 2016
Shared my solitude, gave me comfort,
the road, my prelude to a long journey
moved with me.
Sensual saints had a break midway
bolting the stars, when bruised arms
were building the shelter.
An offering to genius was not accepted
cold blooded murder of a dream.
Overnight my hair turned white
a genuine tale was twisted.
Absence of’me’ was not a meaning of death.
I was learning to live.
Can you tell me, what is time?
The clocks are crazy, do not slow down,
end was near without stopping,
The spirit was moving through formless door.
Everything was lost in space, the space
and unfolding were becoming one.
I was talking to prisnors of small gods
a snuffed lamp, living voice and beasts.
Satish Verma, 27 june 2016
Into the dark enters the blue;
a homeless song punctures the cloud:
gentle grass was never so green.
The colors start fading
there was no other movement. Sun strides in.
No going, no coming of pain. No propitiatory
prayer of mine or yours.
I seek the wisdom of a tree.
Like hawthorn collecting the wish rags
fluttering in desert flora.
A husband, a father, a patriarch
in heart of conception, malice for none.
Give we some peace of Ash,
rebirth of thinking,
return to being,
burnt out self.
B.Z. Niditch, 27 june 2016
In a treasure trove
of living words
there is no border
to love or define forgiving
it is already done
yet here we are in the sun
listening to Charlie Parker
deciding to explore nature
and reach a nest of birds
caught in dark branches
or here at the beach
we assure that inside
of a shell and rock
that a hurting turtle
is well protected,
we make our ways
through Platonic caves
until we motion
to divine a measure
that we will be connected
in a snorkel of wishes
through the ocean waves
to find and save the fish
from man's leaving plastic
and all sort nets and metal
to save part of our planet
below our earth's
geological shadow
we let go
from the diving board
and swim in our words
in a dramatic mile below
like Jacques Cousteau
surfing with
an environmental smile.
B.Z. Niditch, 27 june 2016
Sylvia walked in a hallway
of pained light
through the window
it was always night
living for words
always in the shadow
of living out the hour
in her poetic insight
from an already blemished day
astonished at her nerve
at a man's wrath
Sylvia moved giving flight
on her own contemporary path
from a finely shaped mind
in a new confessional school
that others hardly would find
a bard to be understood
and cast out with an icy cry
of harassed laughter
wishing to write her name Plath
on the encased blackboard
rejecting all chalk sounds
that would be erased
to reinvent her past,
no one knew whom
was stalked after
such was her lot and rule
recognizing her own fame
she composed by the mirror
taking out her lipstick
not realizing any blame
and shut the door.
B.Z. Niditch, 27 june 2016
June showers in a heat
fall into our picnic basket
it must have taken hours
when the barbecue flames
rose on the lawn
in the smoke by the gate
under the tent of crickets
this Sunday after church
we heard a Beat poet's
parched voice
fading from view
on the street between rains
reading of his experiences
in locating the names
of orphans from the Argentine
called "the disappeared"
of whom Jesus was one
were hunted and rounded up
by the military state
almost vanished
whom he saved
as a jazz brother invited
a young man who was famished
for a Spanish meal and wine
offered a kiss of peace
and we passed the plate
and he stayed overnight
until dawn.
B.Z. Niditch, 27 june 2016
We sat in the parlor
while on the piano
we played the sonata
of Mozart in D major
for two parts
and from wayfarer songs
of Gustave Mahler
composed from his heart
after being caught
by the Bay's spring rains
played some alto sax riffs
and tried my best
even as a romantic
on the sofa to relax
we sang melodies
against sturm and drang
and sought refrains
while we enjoy blue birds
hanging by a hedge
near a cherry tree
knowing life is a gift
this June night
we rehearse Chekhov
of the "Orchard"
and in my own poetry words
of a bard's night verse
we acknowledge a kept love
even the cat slept tight.
B.Z. Niditch, 27 june 2016
A tableau of color
filled in my sequences
of a Balthus dream
knowing of the artistic relationship
of Rilke's friendship as a poet
between these critical innovators
elicited in the Swiss mountains
his paintings grow in demand
in credited creator's portraits
of Alice in Wonderland
this cat or kabuki
only few acknowledging
his matured Polish genius
or understand you
like Giacometti,
Bataille or Camus
with a mind's eye to capture
what his later celebrity brings
in his divine nurtured rapture
from the nature of things.
Satish Verma, 26 june 2016
A lamplit page
that smells your body.
I still remember the
cajoling maneuver to give
me a spin.
Oysters. They were crawling
to eject the pearls. And
spiders weaving a net
to trap my thoughts. A
fly lands in the labyrinth.
War of attrition. A tremor
shakes the pillars. Moments
of disintegration. The fragments
throw the footprints in
your hands.
You cannot write your
name on your book.
Satish Verma, 25 june 2016
They felled a huge tree.
Some Druid feared that it had an afterlife
and it sleepwalked at night
but it was me.
My tracery
my shade.
Beyond the sounds I had landed
here as a seed.
Today I am visiting my ancestral home
my walls and my soil
I am I was.
I am in every tree
every tree was me
a mute, silent submission of learning
the first translator of nature
the sculptured journey in time.
Destruction and eternal fall
I want not to happen
still it goes on
masterpiece of death.
Joe Breunig, 24 june 2016
Life’s obstacles can only delay us
from achieving our God-given purpose;
instead of becoming frustrated, we
should look to Christ and just focus
on the underlying issues in prayer.
Obstacles may perfect personal traits,
like having peace by waiting on Him,
so that our hearts are not deflated.
They kick up dust, blinding our vision
whereby, we must go back to Him again;
When our eyes are focused on Christ,
He lights our path and lessens our pain.
Instead of worrying and becoming anxious,
I’ve decided to cast my burdens on Christ,
knowing that He earnestly cares for us;
employing His principles, no real strife
can ever deter us from personal victories.
We’re blessed, from persevering our trials;
for these too, will eventually leave us,
lasting but a short, inconvenient while.
Author notes
Inspired by:
Psa 27:1, 119:2; Isa 41:13; 1 Pet 5:7;
Jam 1:12; Prov 3:5-6 and
"No matter how big or small the obstacles we face in our spiritual journey, as long as we keep our eyes on the Lord, we will reach our destiny that God has prepared for us beforehand to fulfill in this life, and hence inherit a mighty reward for it in the life to come. Keep your eyes in between the start and end of your faith on Jesus because He is the one who actually starts as the author and also ends as the finisher of your faith, He is able to keep you safe from the drowning of worry and unbelief by His supernatural power to stay afloat to reach your heavenly destination!" —Abraham Israel
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
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By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.
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