Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 14 december 2014

AN ACID RAIN

This is it, I want to say.
An acid rain falling each evening
and you, reading a poem
surrounded by flame – attendants.

Nothing moves farther than activism.
Conversation centers around the flares
on the surface of an orange sun,
a big hole coming up in the ozone layer.

You are an ocean, needs penetration
of inquiry. Running a relay race in
a big cage to keep the torch
burning. Clouds in the sky

objecting to full moon, coming up,
nonchalantly. Landscape rips – off
the ideas from the thorn
in the heart.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 13 december 2014

PACEMAKER

Hunger comes back like a dagger
on face. With iris and fingerprints.
Live, fluttering butterflies, stuck
on lampshades. Wrecked, frozen, the ending
of seeming. Men in cages.

They were diluting the culture.
Chlorophyll siphoned off. No color,
no sprouts. The roads were dirty
with the ultimate truth, quarreling with the
water, insanity and vertebrae.

The creamy stuff, shouts and pants,
shunting the definitions. People come
and go from the paintings. There is no age bar.
Spring will be released from the impulses
of flesh in naked zones.

Ideas become pacemaker, for the ailing
heart of polity.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 12 december 2014

SICK TIMES

And how shall we trace the
trajectory of a lungless scream
coming out of a slit throat?
Time was overrun by gnostic
resentment in absolute mind.

The fury of a gathering food riot:
do you hear the memorial rising,
rising –
on bones of hunger, swollen eyelids?
Soon they will meet on the bellies.

The fumigation starts, of lies
a bactericidal, to wipe out the germs
in dumb minds. The prognosis failed,
life moves in a tunnel, absent
and present!


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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 12 december 2014

How sadly I have been absent in this spring (Rubiyat sonnet)

How sadly I have been absent in this spring
while new sprouts and flowers were rising
when the loveliest hot days you have seen
and our love had been a struggling withering thing
 
and how stripped like winter have our lives been
without a hot summer day between
while our love should have been at its prime
as a plant that is with new growth green
 
and yet it was if there was in destiny no time
and to everything just the coldest deadliest clime
but in hope I am still waiting on you
to forgive every word and every kind of crime
 
that you do hold true to me
but does actually lie in your own insecurity.


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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 12 december 2014

I miss you very much (Rubliw)

I miss
you very much
in the early morning
and in the afternoon still more
and in the evening heartache does sting
more than anything that I know
but still our love remains
wherever life
does go.


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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 12 december 2014

I do love you each day (Rubliw)

I do
love you each day
but the great loneliness
does possess a kind of deep ache
and when we are apart my life does halt
as if nothing good does remain
and emptiness is left
until you are
right here.


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Joe Breunig

Joe Breunig, 11 december 2014

Poem: His Love of Words

He will make a way for me,
but I’ve got to do my part.
I must keep moving forward…
with His promises in my heart.

Staying in faith, not worried
about who’s holding me back;
I continue to press ahead
in His supply, without lack.
     
Everything is simple for God
and it’s a fact I’ve accepted;
this kinship persists, seeing…
that we are divinely connected.

Heaven’s Husbandman grafted me
into the sacred Vine for Himself;
His Love of words flows from me,
poetry made… for His bookshelf.
 
 
 
Author Notes
 
Inspired by:
Prov 3:6; John 15; Eph 2:10

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
   
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 11 december 2014

BROODING

Me and my pride,
me and my hurts.
Who are you, which you are not,
a verbless statement of nirvana?

No pain
no asking, narcissism.
A stream of unbecoming.
Eyes wide open
jaws tightly shut,
sitting in a corner, brooding,
brooding.
Now what?

A stunning duplicity,
a surrogate god
was running an empire.
Precisely polygamous
on the name of a latter saint
annihilating the third image.

The future demands its past,
its mode of becoming endosperm
in a sleeping leaf.


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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 11 december 2014

How strong do I love thee? (Rubliw)

How strong
do I love thee?
Together we belong,
much more than mere feelings could be
is each word and deed in the daily throng
and far beyond eternity
our feelings go along
being gently
and free.


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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 11 december 2014

Much more [2] (Rubliw)

Much more
I do love you,
more than the day before
and although each day might be new
love is present in the simple things we do
and you I do deeply adore
even when out of view
feelings grow to
be true.


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