Salvatore Ala, 16 march 2015
From desperation repossessed,
From marriages divorced in debt,
From suicides in garnishment,
One coin of empire in demise.
From families in ruin,
From homes that were lost,
From hope appropriated,
One coin of empire in demise.
From mask of Mammon,
From fear and war,
Just such interest is accrued,
One coin of empire in demise.
Gert Strydom, 16 march 2015
Even if you life is ravaged by sin
and you do not know where you do fit in
God’s love reaches out to the depths of the heart
and causes a new life to begin.
Satish Verma, 16 march 2015
He felt very guilty
while defending himself. Being nothing
in the times, he became so dangerous
for himself that the buttons were lost for
patriarchal connectedness.
The faces had become the permanent masks.
Now what?
Flutes lie broken in bottom of the pond,
stones had committed suicide.
A window lets in darkness.
I love the pace of history walking on the back
of alligators. It does not die.
I am emptying the urn, again and again
to write poems on the flyleaves of life.
Pure pain. I am smile with tears. My
knees carrying the amputated leg. A big
throw on the trash. I am thirsty,
not hungry. My hands reach for a strip.
Satish Verma, 15 march 2015
I always differed
for the sake of semblance.
Feathers did not agree.
You flew away for your sky.
Impatience had killed the defeat
my elixir, the baby sea in my eyes.
Genocide of the figs, unlearning
the sweetness of life.
Yet a white python was hungry.
A heart rendering feat to dig-out
a home after the earthquake.
Alligators were dying in midstream.
I was running after the desert.
Why bustards were disappearing?
Trees were hung upside down.
There was no suicidal note.
Satish Verma, 14 march 2015
Not superficial,
real inside,
something was ruined.
Tonight I will walk out in dark
beyond me.
Creased,
under tyranny of love,
wanted to unwrite the script
in the stampede of sins.
Impeachment
throws up the shock syndrome.
No wish to swim back.
Drowning, clutching my truth.
A mystic paradox?
Million faces of yes or no.
Wrinkles are getting larger.
Salvatore Ala, 14 march 2015
Tell me a story mother
All the hospital windows
Are black with snow
Tell me a story mother
Nurses are gathering fire
Doctors are measuring wire
Tell me a story mother
When does our care
For what is ours wear
Tell me a story mother
What we lose in time
We receive in kind
Tell me a story mother
Memory is a medicine
Exceeding what has been
Tell me a story mother
Soil is buried in soil
And grief in toil
Tell me a story woman
Death is the meaning
Of mother in my flesh
Tell me a story mother
The sick are waking
It is night and it is morning
Satish Verma, 13 march 2015
Peace at stake,
it worked.
Withdrawal of rubber dolls
playing with fire.
Empty bowls in lunar month.
Concords were flying very high
noiselessly crossing the peaks
of great grudges.
Pure golden hair –
of grief.
It really was miracle.
Bald eagle was waiting.
Enough time to steer a murder.
The irresistable desire
to rub with a paranoid.
Extracting a genius from mediocre genera.
Life had become too genteel.
Gert Strydom, 13 march 2015
(After Dylan Thomas)
Time held me
while I was still young and green
not yet knowing the man
that I was destined to be.
Time held me
while I was forced into war,
even before by law I could drive a car
and from the military
I though I would never be free
and even in every victory
the tentacles of death
had destruction to the inner core.
Time held me
when I went to study at university
met a girl and fell in love
with someone really pretty
and the summer, the sun
the beach and sea
seemed like a lot of fun
as if my life had only just begun.
Time held me
while she had eyes green as the sea
but I did not then see
that destiny had its chains
clasped around me and from it
I would never be free.
Still time is holding me,
clasping my spirit, my body and soul
and while the winter is setting in
it still sometimes feels
as if life has only just begin.
[Reference: Fern Hill by Dylan Thomas. “Time held me green and dying
Though I sang in my chains like the sea.” Dylan Thomas.”]
Joe Breunig, 12 march 2015
Within this broad lifestyle of Christianity,
I’m unshackled from ideas of fear and hate;
though I may deal with bouts of self-worth,
my God-given path is righteous and straight.
I’m not bound by dictates of any work clock,
since the freedom to love God is in my heart.
Daily reminders of my Lord are surrounding me,
within The Word constraints of my poetic art.
I wish to live my life with keen transparency,
unburdened by the deadly sin of ungodly scruples.
Let me be crucified with the weight of ideals,
that are firmly grounded on His holy principles.
Being submitted unto Jehovah was a decision made
without hesitation, since nothing can be better.
Therefore, the chains of my sins have be broken-
which allows me to remain forever… unfettered.
Author Notes
Inspired by:
Deu 30:15
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.
Gert Strydom, 12 march 2015
When the night takes you away,
drags you deep into sleep
how is it then for you?
Are we still walking together
like those who are wooed on the beach
with your hand finding mine,
are we blinded by the breeze on the beach
that goes whirling around us
or are we again etched off like those that are single
in a dark gloomy sketch
that you draw with a pencil
with the darkness that swallows me?
Here I am and not even far away
and are not locked into a monastery
and I do remember you
where you are part of me
as if your humanity
is tattooed into my thoughts
and in the depth of the night
I do wonder about you, about your dreams
if I am also in them?
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