Gert Strydom, 24 december 2014
Tonight the sky is cloudless and clear,
the stars shine bright and Christmas is near
and on a night like this the Savior was born
and although some people know pain and fear
the world is waiting upon a bright new morn,
upon a dawn when God will come
to take His own people home
and in the distance I hear a truck shifting gear,
a car breaking and blowing its horn
and people act headstrong and stubborn,
as if the tread of this world is worn
and I wait upon the Son of man and God
to bring a end to death and iniquity
and wonder how long it will still be?
Gert Strydom, 24 december 2014
I want to love you more
than contracts can bind
and in you I want to find more love
than this few words can say
and I want everything that happen between us
only to be free and natural,
to not only to bring memories but deeper meaning,
give colour to our existence
but much more than this
I want to build a life with you
without swallowing you up in it,
I want to embrace and hold you tight
and put every feeling into this gesture
and to know that you love me
pass time and experiences.
Gert Strydom, 24 december 2014
Sometimes I wonder if you know the Morse code
of my thoughts, my gestures
and even the meaning between the lines
that my words do broadcast
and if you carry it
as the clothing around your body?
Or if the dashes in my glances,
the dots of the times that I touch you
do leave sounds on your body?
Or are you too caught up in this old world
to notice anything
and is only when we do touch each other
that you are aware
of how much I really do love you?
Satish Verma, 24 december 2014
Will you walk with me
on the banks of a silent and invisible river?
Not paleowater eating the earth
but a collider, flowing in conscience.
One more dip with epidural
to stay away from awakening,
to start climbing on the burning tower
of truth.
Planting lethal swords in the hands
of earthlings. The essence of memory,
throws counter-questions. Strange happenings.
I am afraid of a black hole.
Gert Strydom, 23 december 2014
That you are pretty
the whole world knows
but you do not really realize it
and it’s as if you do not know of your own beauty
and the glances in every other eye
you do continually miss
and how we feel about each other,
that we are destined to be together,
how deep our feelings are,
that our worlds do fall apart
when we are separate
no other person does really comprehend,
not even your family,
or your friends that are becoming more and more
or even the postman that are bringing you letters.
Gert Strydom, 23 december 2014
When the early morning rays
were caught in the sky
and it did look as if again
it would be a hot day
and the sun did change from red to white,
when trees did point fingers into the blue
and the fragrance of flowers
did hang like a cloak around you.
you did sit in the car with me
and your eyes did give away
numerous kisses.
Gert Strydom, 22 december 2014
You look
in the mirror,
do wipe some stray hair right
and something is caught in the glance
as if the day depends on your own looks
and your glance moves away to me
in a short small moment
that lingers on
and on.
Gert Strydom, 22 december 2014
Without
comprehension
you are when I admire
your beauty when you do makeup
but a small bit of a smile do linger
that does reflect your deep feelings
and the sun is setting
and the moment
is past.
Satish Verma, 22 december 2014
On the battle turfs of a vernacular
hunger, the hikes were killing
the uncertain values. Committing suicide
was a regular feature.
To pay off the debts of a flag.
By using pesticides on unsuspecting
guests of tomorrow.
The clocks were set one century back.
What could be done of an anonymous
terror bomb placed in a lunchbox?
Do we wait for an accident?
Who will open it?
All summer, one hundred moons
I will wash your face
to read the command.
Who had put the stiletto in your hand?
Satish Verma, 21 december 2014
Maimed, tortured for love of resistance
this night appears to be
without an end.
There was nothing to lose,
it was looking for some reason
to die on the side of a cloud
when the sickle moon was sailing.
Tomorrow a new lie will be born.
Even a suicide bomber
will be tossed around,
like a new coin.
Weaving a dress of skin and bones
in the little sky of so many
purple birds.
Acoustics are not working
walls have no doors.
By night only a torch will be moving.
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