Satish Verma, 14 june 2015
He, making his own cast. You knew it.
Unique mystique of transparency.
You could not touch him.
Walking ahead of the sun,
long shadow, sweating it out,
pungent odor.
Innocence hung from desiccated tongue,
he preserved original speech
before falling prey to polymorphism.
Certain amount of tears, some sadness
make life sweet for a while.
Phrases are not hurting now.
B.Z. Niditch, 14 june 2015
born June 6, 1599
As a painter of the brothers
who brought to their father
the fiery bloody coat of colors
of a disfigured Joseph
dropped once in a well
like those who once desired
to hide from their guilty crime
yet we watch Joseph raised up
in Egypt to interpret dreams
became a Jewish dreamer
and beloved prime minister
to be honored for all time
for sin is shamed in history,
yet justice reigns, it seems.
B.Z. Niditch, 14 june 2015
June 2
1840- 1928
Your novels and poems
leave us melancholy
to the accidents of fate
before we make decisions
we make alterations
from any rhyme of folly
and reach any probabilities
wrestling on words to wait.
B.Z. Niditch, 14 june 2015
When you are down
and cannot think
and everything seems
to be wrong
drowning in words of ink
by broken mirrors of love
suffocating from the heat
we take a kayak
like Charon's oars
over the high sea
to enlighten us
in the cool sunlight
and breathe in ocean air
as once in the Adriatic
away from fields of wheat,
when a friend is in grief
open the doors to her
and offer Natalia a greeting
of daytime flowers,
give her no obstacles
in any dance of hours
for all miracles are welcome
in a luminous belief,
try to draw or paint
a number of pictures
as a bas relief,
when you were far
from home
and needing a plumber
in Rome
by the marble carrara sink
was dripping
by your Trevi fountains art,
we choose transparency
to do my visible part
and drew Natalia in a flight
of angel bird-song above
the shimmering mountains,
when you need any remedy
drink from a parlance
to command your vocabulary
at a sunlight's window
outside the cape,
or call on the Parisian poets,
Baudelaire or Pierre Reverdy,
or give ear to saint Malachy;
when I try to exercise
or play sax in the attic
to maintain my wise balance
by the music's stands weight
and not be sycophantic.
B.Z. Niditch, 14 june 2015
After every war
we invent silence
even memory,
inside the quiet rooms
of our nerves
in the recall of him or her
will find us offering a prayer
when the sunlight appears
on Memorial Day
through windows of birds
who flutter up over our windows
covering May's cool heavenly air
hands outstretch to poppies
is reflected in our mirrors
along the surf's breeze
knowing we exist as words
become our lives
in every whisper
and tiny gesture
we choose to pick flowers
as a poet's shadow
turns in the high tide
drowning a remembrance
as rainbows in the waters
rise by the sea's headstones
choosing to revere
the silver thoughts
from our angel's occupation.
B.Z. Niditch, 14 june 2015
It is June;
in the fresh air breeze
off the shore
we sight
as in my visionary dream
all week
as these bountiful trees appear
with its the small grass dunes
seen nearby
from a wooden bridge
when the sun is over us
and the air is clear
and we peek out to see more
of the ocean
at the tourist ships alight
to motion over the high tide
and Jesus is in us,everywhere
what a privilege it is
to worship as You are revealing
the spring to us
in a chorus of green and blue
to see the birch so white
now feeling renewed
and all His earth is bright.
Gert Strydom, 12 june 2015
My Lord is the ruler of the whole universe
and soon He will return as judge of us all.
People have longed for Him since the sin-fall
and soon the death and pain on this world He will reverse.
Before Him even those that are perverted, wrong and perverse
will fall down and all of His children will hear His last call.
My Lord is the ruler of the whole universe
and soon He will return as judge of us all.
Every day I do with Him converse
about the things that daily do me befall.
He knows everything if it is big or small
and daily He does me in His great divine love immerse.
My Lord is the ruler of the whole universe
and soon He will return as judge of us all.
Satish Verma, 12 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.
Stephen J. Vattimo, 12 june 2015
It's splash across the canvas of print
It's blare across the airways
Another SuperHero has fallen.
On the stage of life,they appear bullet proof
but out of the bright lights,in the shadows
every SuperHero has his Kryptonite
In the bright lights
a SuperHero's powers are his wealth and fame
in the shadows super powers can be weakened
by thieves,moths,rust
Don't Gear when a SuperHero has fallen
less it becomes your Kryptonite
and you trip over your own cape.
The strength of a SuperHero's custom is not in silver or gold
but in the strength of a good name.
There is only one invincible SuperHero
He conquered death at the cross
To rescue Humanity from the hands of a villain
The name of this SuperHero is Jesus The Christ
Written By Stephen J. Vattimo
July 6 2014
Stephen J. Vattimo, 12 june 2015
Wild flowers
They spring up to life,in the field where The Creator plants them
They are nurtured buy sun ,water,and feral soil,
They proclaim the glory of the artistry of their Creator
They grow and multiple until they reach their glorious peak
They wither,and fade into dust and are no more
All is orchestrated by the Creator's hand
Wild flowers
Artists praise your beauty,and try to capture your glory with paints on canvas
Farmers detest you presence ,and toil to remove you from the soil
For in their eyes you are nothing but a weed that competes and hinders the growth of their valued crops.
Wild flowers
Man is like the wild flower of the field
They spring to life in the world where The Creator has placed them
They are nurtured and blessed from the helplessness of infancy to the glory of adulthood by the hand of The Creator
Some grow to have families ,some grow alone
Some grow toward the Son of their Creator,some grow toward another in darkness
They all reach their peak of their glory,
Then they wither,fade into dust and are no more
All is orchestrated by the Creator's hand
Wild flowers
In the soil of some people's hearts a relationship with a wild flower was cultivate,and appreciated for it beauty.
In the soil of some people's hearts a relationship with a wild flower was uprooted and valued as a weed that competed and hinders the growth of their dreams .
Wild flowers
Relationship are like wild flowers
They will only live,grow,become a thing of thriving beauty,if we nurture them.
When a wild flower fades and withers away their is no seance of singing it's praise
If we didn't do so while it was alive.
Written by Stephen J. Vattimo
June 7, 2015
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