Salvatore Ala, 20 december 2014
That’s the Phoenix! That’s the myth!
That’s what the storybooks
Have been trying to tell me. The firebird
Nests in the searing winds of time.
It migrates to the forests of the sun.
It lives in the drop of fire behind the eyes
And perches on the volcano in the ribs.
You’ll know the firebird by its ashes,
By how the sunset beats its wings
And flames out like a cosmic fire.
Better to start living, to start loving,
Better to be consumed with joy
Than live another day without rebirth,
Without music that catches fire
Or words that cast a burning shadow.
Satish Verma, 20 december 2014
Inside, the battle wages.
One step down,
I drown myself in the frowns
of a thought. Night sucks at my fear.
The rhyme of the fading moon
intends to fix me up.
I refuse to smell the breath
of the catch.
I bloom on the pain,
sweetened kill of the day. An empty jump
in void of a portrait;
shaking wall.
Watercolors were ruined
by smudging the reasons.
Clutching the bones of winds, falling
from the sky.
Satish Verma, 19 december 2014
A new planet was taking birth.
Stem cells were coming out of
obedience to carnality.
For resuscitation from kiss of death
faith was at its best in its witchcraft.
Complete blood count failed,
to diagnose the strange madness.
It was a whirling chemistry.
The transmitters merely took in
the sin, the insanity.
A huge crowd collected at the morgue
to collect the severed limbs,
after the death of a sun.
Picking the scars of dark
and slaughtered tomorrow.
The rage of sunrise will come back.
One day the clouds will burst open. Yes
the death will come as a bride.
Salvatore Ala, 18 december 2014
The mind is brushed by sparrow wings.
Hart Crane
All shadows of a kind cross the atlas of the mind.
Alone or with fledglings in realistic settings
The ghosts of those birds migrated into words.
The longer we stayed the sound of a glade.
Windows doubled as skies for eternity in their eyes.
Even for a feather it is a heavy tether.
In each nest eggs at rest.
Such stillness grows like flight in repose
Mounted there in flying air.
What is seeming if nature is dreaming?
What is death to a hummingbird’s breath?
In an eagle’s gaze soar endless days.
A glass case sings it breaks with wings.
All field marks fade light goes into shade.
Joe Breunig, 18 december 2014
When we’re truly betrothed to Him,
we can’t help, but divinely succeed;
Christ’s not a Man that He should lie
and He’s promised to meet our needs.
Are we, not more important than birds
found about the land, trees and air?
Are we better clothed than flowers?
Are we committed to Him and His care?
Are we not made after God’s image?
As His Children, are we responsible,
for applying The Word to our lives?
Are we spiritually irresponsible?
We’re accountable for understanding
how to divinely develop and grow.
Spiritual progression doesn’t allow
us to blindly accept the status quo!
The Day of Judgment is still coming.
Will you be seen as a goat or sheep?
Are you joined to the True Vine or
will your soul burn on Hell’s heap?
Author Notes
Inspired by:
Num 23:19; Prov 16:3; Matt 6:25-34, 25:31-46
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
Satish Verma, 18 december 2014
Carrying my words in a small jewel box
I was listening to silence
of falling rain,
to heal my truth.
A blueberry moon
was peeking from behind the hills.
Crazy clouds
started a celebration.
Sometimes you want to stop
in your tracks and look back
with doleful eyes. Was it important to collect red roses,
suicide notes, purple robes for seeking liberation?
The baby god I wanted to laugh with,
does not smile anymore.
His tinkles lie buried in heap of dust
in your skinny heart.
Tinker Bell, 17 december 2014
Sometimes I sit and wander.. through the deserts
& the cities ;
and deep, these thoughts goes,
in the ocean
then all at once
I am afloat.. !
Tinker Bell, 17 december 2014
WHEN INSIDE IN MY DEEP THOUGHTS I AM ,
Sometimes I wonder Who I am ?
People asks me,
They say, they want to know
I say
I find..
When I am in this place
There’s no need to explain
For I am
this place,
and this place me !
Tinker Bell, 17 december 2014
Still I would search for my lost friend,
Sitting somewhere, waiting..
For me to turn.. my conscience
Won't let it go..
Won't let it go..
The most loyal friend of mine
Turning each smile, each moment alive
The essence of life.
Satish Verma, 17 december 2014
Ready to dismember the red geraniums
rains had no mercy.
Thunder did not show any preference
and hails had felled the pride
of tall grass.
Denuded, the hungry man
walked towards liberty.
Moral tapestry in scape after scape
cried,
the mystery endured the cradle –
Of personal god.
But I bled my truth in wilderness
to impose the religion,
of a non-believer,
for obedience to natural laws.
Talking to divine
brings relief. The direct, face to face
confrontation, for a twig of faith.
I pick up the seeds
for the sake of eternity.
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