B.Z. Niditch, 30 june 2015
to Symborska's memory
What an oddity
the world thinks of us
as a commodity
at a blink and loss
we are not to be sold
for forty pieces
of silver or gold
yet we are told daily
not to be temperamental
we are by the threshold
of a bidding war
to skin us alive
yet we want to console
our flesh to survive
hiding the yellow stars
in cattle cars
in the far country
we stand by the manger
as a stranger to the creche
or by Jesus cross
with 1943 nails
upon the tree
three souls are bargaining
for their lives
by Warsaw's ghetto gates
it starts to snow
we ask for angels
as a poets life waits
not lost to our manifold soul.
B.Z. Niditch, 30 june 2015
At the light
of day that gives
us peace
by a labyrinth
of branches
in a hyacinth warmth
at the name
of the sea
which gazes at us
reaching for a shell
at a shadow of stone
by the beach lighthouse
squirrels climb the hill
at noon in a quandry
when life is at a standstill.
Satish Verma, 30 june 2015
Tracing the primordial culture of truth
in its oneness, we find the ultimate answer.
Still the negative effect prevails
increasing the confusion.
Existence in now, has a travesty of truth.
Can we breakaway from our past?
Can we exist between right and wrong?
Between good and evil?
Between truth and fiction?
How many faces has reality?
The Self amalgamates the formulations
provides the mind with the safe exits.
The visualization
was not a happening, not actuality
an escape from pain & reality?
The thoughts were always disturbing
creating a false identity.
Thoughtless self had no movement.
Was that the nirvana?
The final moksha?
Satish Verma, 29 june 2015
I stay connected out of the body,
with fireworks,
to widen the relativity,
to read the language of fear.
Death of a tree was mourned
by leaves in shadow.
The dew lies awake crying.
The town was disappearing
without a dialogue
with past, we were digging our heritage.
In search of roots
life was killing the tomorrow.
You an answer seeking
which was not yet born.
Over the mind
an ancient prayer floats.
The house was on fire
the words cannot cover the flaming body.
It was dying beautifully.
The space between the memories
will shrink and we will destroy
the ugly calender.
Satish Verma, 28 june 2015
A parallel pain walks with you
when you split into space and time.
You were too shy to die, to feel
the anguish and bliss of death.
Something inside you springs
into a tree for a half-life.
The search for the meaning of life
takes roots in calamities.
They get back at you, the paranoids
on the horizon line, where the galaxy
meets the paradox, the void, the fear.
Any physical possibility generates the sparks.
The realization takes you back in mud and grass
outside the body to rest in peace.
The formless listening, seeing without objects
furthers hyperesthesia.
You have found yourself in emptiness!
David Martinez, 28 june 2015
The King and Queen
look upon their day,
The gypsies and jokers
sing songs of praise
The sorcerers of evil
cast curses and spells,
The slaves pull up water
from the wishing wells
The monks and priests
pray glory to the kingdom,
The prisoners down below
cry in agony for freedom
The darkness swallows
up the light,
As the day
crawls into night
Satish Verma, 27 june 2015
Somewhere the truth lies still and frozen
why can’t we measure ourselves?
Measure the unseen depth?
Not for gain, not for bliss.
For inner tranquility, moving into the time
where living and dead meet.
The silhouette of cicrcling hawk was frightening
the Sun was wilting
and I had entered into a lonely sky.
The flash of insight burned my thoughts.
I must count my gifts.
Time was ruining my creases.
Here was a naked truth
unclothed by time
beyond the innocence of age.
You were walking on the planks of emptiness,
inviting death.
Was it so easy to die?
Easy to forget the unforgetful?
Your loaded years falling away?
steve, 27 june 2015
If only things were different.. you might still be here...
And I could set the world on fire.. instead of shedding tears,
If only I'd of listened.. to things you had to say...
Instead of rushing out the door.. to the same thing everyday,
If only I could see you.. and look into your eye's...
I'd never let you get away.. there'd be no more goodbye's,
If only I could have one chance.. to do it all again...
I didn't know the hour glass.. was running out of sand,
If only I'd of shown... the love I have for you...
Instead of somehow thinking.. that you already knew,
If only it was not too late.. and I never had to say...
Those two words I've come to hate... that haunt me everyday.
sg
Satish Verma, 26 june 2015
Dying daily in eternity
for it to be,
a tear dropp held all the pain of life.
You were lost in words,
between the phrases
time was in, time was out.
The color, the theme was fading,
a seduced century
contriving the reasons to commit
the destruction of self-being.
I was struggling to empty my mind
completely.
To remain human in the loneliness
of ruins
I want to walk straight.
Joe Breunig, 25 june 2015
With baptism, one identifies with The Christ,
mirroring His death, burial and resurrection;
in this symbolic gesture of Faith, one sees a
formal acknowledgment of His gift of Salvation.
This practice, instituted by John the Baptist,
teaches one to reflect on the sacred sacrifice-
that Christ -alone- redeemed all of Humanity
and that His unequaled actions will suffice
as the second Adam, for our enduring redemption.
Even Christ Himself, took this symbolic plunge.
Was this a mere watery dunking of His flesh?
Or did it prepare Him… to be able to expunge
the death penalty of sin for us permanently?
Therefore, I honor His act of propitiation-
by the baptism of my body before witnesses,
as I’m initiated today… into His Holy Nation.
Author Notes
Inspired by:
John 3:25-36
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.
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