Elise C., 4 april 2015
Oh joy at what I heard!
Words I thought I miss heard, but suddenly it's real
I had a feeling it might have played out like this
Oh, how I only want you to be happy and how my heart feels when you are
I acted confused when I heard
while my heart was singing a happy tune
I'd lie, but oh how I desired this to happen.
Might be over reacting, but oh how much I'd hate if you were wrong.
You wouldn't have said such a thing if it hadn't crossed your mind
We all just want to be happy, but we can't find such in just anything.
Sometimes all we need is what we already have...
if we only give them a chance
Elise C., 4 april 2015
The earth shook
My heart fluttered with every word you uttered
I opened my mouth but couldn't breathe because my heart left me no words to speak. It sent out a beating rhythm of love tangled with absolute certainty that you were the one for me.
If a look could decide then the decision was made when we touched with our eyes.
A single glance blossomed a romance, a new chance for something the world could never handle
A soft touch was enough, never rough, to bring two hearts together that would never tether or ever be apart.
A new love, a true love...you and I
By a glance of eyes, love did decide that we shall stay side by side
Satish Verma, 4 april 2015
In a starry night
an adolescent thought starts
a rivalry. A baby moon squirms.
No hour was safe from terror in dark.
I climb the stairs breathlessly.
The great divide deepens in hearts.
Incisors bite the tongue,
grey cells bleed inside.
Thick ash has not stopped the cinders
smouldering under the veils of flushed peace.
Cupped tears wash the feet of death,
a caravan of words moves desolated,
cutting on the edges, before you say
goodbye to green vision.
Today I am pulling out the nails
from the walls. No hangings of departed centuries.
No portraits of exiled flames.
Only the face of truth, burning
at the interface of unthruths.
Satish Verma, 3 april 2015
Blackened silence was holding the reflectivity,
reality was on the run.
Exile was complete.
Dark secrets, standing on head
remained buried in your chest
absorbing all colors of sun.
A night remembers the friends
who went over the hills one by one
to find the pugmarks of panther
that was killing your infant biographies.
The world stood bodyguard
not allowing any immortality.
Your speech was clear, but unheard
in terror of burnt-out principles.
New sleeping cells are coming up for a
metaphysical revolt. A heron was
stabbed by soaring kites
in the golden valley.
Joe Breunig, 2 april 2015
O Lord, how I appreciate having my character,
free from the carnal lust of mammon; for I,
don’t have to be concerned with avarice, greed
or the presence of possessions… that I can eye!
I’m truly thankful for my current circumstance,
knowing that You have promised to never fail me;
therefore, I’ll trust Your continued support-
since I’ve been grafted into… The Living Tree!
Having been comforted and encouraged, with boldness
and confidence, I claim: Christ is my Benefactor!
My spirit won’t be gripped by any dread or fears;
I’m ignoring the silly nonsense of all detractors.
Forged within Life’s, daily crucible of Faith,
inner steel and moral disposition were developed.
From Salvation through Christ, my soul was saved,
and my life by His Grace has been… fully enveloped.
Author Notes
Inspired by:
Heb 3:5-6; Rev 2:7
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.
Gert Strydom, 2 april 2015
At one of the great precipices in life I do stand
and I ask: “omnipotent Jesus, take my hand,
lead me with Your great unending love
all the way to that blessed Beulah Land.
Gert Strydom, 2 april 2015
I
As if he could break time into pieces
Salvador Dali did bend watches
where one hangs over a branch and another
is over a bodily thing and its as if time jumps back
while everything gleams very bright
with the open landscape in the background
and only a branch and a cupboard in foreground
so as if the white sun is climbing golden over it
and he did wonder what Gala would think
did forget for moments about the painting
but that energy did have its own power,
he poured a glass of wine to have with his cheese and bread,
did wonder if she knows of his love?
And he did put his hat on his head.
II
He did put his hat on his head,
saw the light of God falling through the window
and it was more golden in colour than just white
where he was exhibiting light and shadows,
and from it depth did just appear by itself
and the face was glowing almost alive
and was totally free against the black background
while he was caught, seriously riveted
by the art coming from his fingers
and he did wonder if God at the creation
did stand back from His great works, was astounded
with the earthly dome
and before the master gleams an image that cannot perish
while he paints with opaque paint.
III
He paints with opaque paint
is busy with a water-colour
where he does sit in the sun at the back of the yard
and tell me about the course of events.
To my astonishment it’s a landscape
of a misty dark wood
where a couple are wandering
with a small road that meanders in its simplicity
Those later runs into gigantic trees
with bright flowers still fresh
with drops of dew and big splashes of sunshine
that burst hot through at some places
with drops hanging on the trees on the bright day;
while the whole world is laughing at him.
IV
While the whole world is laughing at him
its as if God Himself is taking his hand
in every line, every colour that splashes down
while everybody does not care about his art,
not even the great beauty of the starry night
and when he paints sunflowers his tears are flowing
when voices, people do stain his life
and he paints the most beautiful things,
perfect picture upon perfect picture
and its as if he is expecting nothing that is good,
the darkness grows in his soul while he dresses,
when he chops off his ear, does disfigure his face
and tired he stands alone against a force majeure
when my eyes do enter that sombre room.
V
When my eyes do enter that sombre room
it feels as if I was walking on the cool wooden floor,
and about this painting he maybe is shy
as if it is personal when I walk closer.
The small table next to the bed is loaded
with painted clay pots, a bottle of wine and a glass,
paintings hang on the walls almost up to the ceiling
while light comes in through the yellow curtains
that brings warmth to the earthly room,
the purple walls do stand out
along with the bright red blanket of the small bed
and I cannot understand any gloominess
while I see him stuck in his thoughts in a wheat acre
with the hot sun burning without any mercy.
VI
With the hot sun burning without any mercy,
he wears a straw hat to block the bright rays,
at times does shade his eyes with his big hand
and paints with masterly form and balance.
It is God’s wheat acres and cypress trees
that he becomes aware of there in front of the mountain,
monsters that suddenly appear like in dreams
do come as great storm clouds in the sky
with two bushes and some tress half blown to a side
the wheat acre is so yellow, the seed so ripe
that in his fingers he can turn the grains of wheat out
and against the bright light he has to close his eyes
while the wind blows where he is painting and at times it does annoy him
and alone I see a figure standing, minutely small.
VII
Alone I see a figure standing, minutely small
against the catastrophic evil that waits like a lightening bolt
that is ready to bash down, but is still hidden
while a unearthly texture or something is breathing in your neck
and its as if total destruction is waiting,
is focused on everything living,
is hidden in a somewhat evil power
that wants to strike as a kind of judgement
in that forbidding environment,
as if the mountain is going to exploded in mere moments,
in lava or with a earthquake
will bring everything back to pieces of dust
and there is evil jumping out of the painting
as if he could break time into pieces
[The paintings: I: “The Persistence of Memory” by Salvidor Dali, II: Ectched Self-portrait of Rembrandt with his hat on by Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn, V: “Vincent’s Room” by Vincent Willem Van Gogh. VI: “Wheat Fields and Cypress Trees” by Vincent Willem Van Gogh. VII: A landscape by Hercules Pieterszoon Seghers]
Satish Verma, 2 april 2015
Tie the knot with my mortgaged life –
I have started the self-descent.
Don’t leave me alone –
I have to unload some debts.
It was very disturbing. I have again forgotten
my alphabet and become illiterate.
Your consent is must
for starting a new journey.
I am neither afraid, nor worried
but fever is rising, like a flood
and ridge was collapsing.
The death was unknown to me –
it will come one day as a guest
and stay with me forever.
Times have rattled me enough
and sword hangs from the roof.
Why do I dream such?
The dichotomy between gold and lies
will start one day. I cannot go back
to my dilapidated house where I met the first words.
mvvenkataraman, 1 april 2015
Complete equanimity is needed
Wrong words mustn't be uttered
Let wise people's advice be heeded
Any situation can be thus bettered
To God, Justice can be pleaded
By God, evils will be surely fettered
Courage must be exercised
Rage must be fully exorcised
Even a sage may be criticized
If calmness is strictly maintained
Problems get by themselves solved
If bold attitude is attained
A difficulty is half-solved
If honestly one has strained
To help, God would have resolved.
mvvenkataraman
Satish Verma, 1 april 2015
A fear stalks me on the road.
Sun was very aloof and cold.
Cannot stop the decline,
give me prayers of your lips.
You talk of dark children dying
when I was losing consciousness.
Will not question the ink of death
or silence of night.
The random greed of man walks
in golden ruins without listening.
I am counting my years wasted
in pursuit of crazy dreams of climbing a watchtower.
Hunger had become a great teacher.
Pain becomes a face. Limbs and shadows
seek justice after rape and murder.
Something seeps in me. Wounds bleeding
on my hands, I dig the floor of the moon
where God was sleeping.
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