E. de la Garza, 14 november 2014
Single words audible in the din, bear one moment into the next
In cords of slack memories privately threaded or strung or woven,
Colored by the when and the where of the light and hunger and
Aching for warm scents of belonging to the world no matter what
Eyes create in each ten pound universe shackled to this cauldron
Of roiling myths and the fleeting stench of birth, knowing what is
Believed is the only knowing, not the shouts or the calm voice or
Any words to justify the illusion of now-- and seductive eyes and
Countless paintings locked behind them-- keening for the fleshly
Morsels, livid or rotting, to join the damned in joy and hope and
Love-- an endless montage of believing that the mote we live on
Is somehow better for the fist shown to or the back turned to the
Night-- and cleaving to each other and legacy, clutching trinkets,
Grasping for war and faith and treasure to say, I am victorious.
Gert Strydom, 14 november 2014
We sleep together
with your stomach and breasts
touching my back,
later stomach to stomach
with your arms wrapped
around my body
and in the morning
you enjoy a plate with fried eggs,
toast and tea in bed
and bright-eyed reserve
some sweet kisses for me.
Satish Verma, 14 november 2014
Anxiety was touching the mime
I cannot hold a reality.
We were playing with each other.
The creation and hunger of living
takes you to unknown fields
I am, what I am not.
Always bluffing, puffing on the road,
counting the milestones
in reverse osmosis,
feeling proud of mighty mistakes,
talking to faltered ego,
going against the sun.
My climate merges with hot desert
A story reappears again and again
like a dried skeleton in sands.
How long I will run
chased by planetary fears?
Barbs pierce the tender zones
I see my own demise,
body floating like a flower on lake.
Satish Verma
Joe Breunig, 13 november 2014
Table salt without pleasing flavor is useless,
like a weak Christian lacking “good works”;
for the World is in need of divine examples
of how to live within the Kingdom’s framework.
There are many souls craving spiritual waters,
to have their endless abyss of thirst quenched.
Are we testifying of God’s Love to reach those
in strongholds- where they’re firmly entrenched?
Unless there are obvious and significant change
in the personal behavior of our everyday lives,
the World will have no real motivation for faith
when there’s no evidence of transcendent lives.
We’re still called to be the salt of this planet,
demonstrating victorious lives as saved brothers;
As Christians, we’re supposed to add loving flavor.
We’re responsible for generating thirst in others!
Author Notes
Loosely based on:
Matt 5:13; Jam 2:14-26
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
Gert Strydom, 13 november 2014
Woken by the black-collard barbet
knocking on the window
as a token from the gods
like a acolyte dedicated to your service
I rise to prepare breakfast
consisting of toasted chicken mayonnaise sandwiches,
some squeezed orange juice
and the tender relaxed serenity
fills your face with a kind of dignity,
a kind of uncommon grace
and when you look up at me
I see a warm pleasant welcome
almost like the rising sun
displayed on your face
and your slender arms
reach out to me
drawing me down
to soft sheets and a hot pillow
and to you.
Satish Verma, 13 november 2014
My thoughts halt at your lips
beyond lies your silence
to start a voyage in snowy dialogues
to find a meaning of futile life
and trash of the myths.
Our entwined life has chosen
consolation of past,
We are still alive
kicking and reveling.
A shadow imitates the God
meditates under the unyielding tree.
The fugitive may find some greatness
in insult.
The vastness of loneliness
ultimately takes over.
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 12 november 2014
The flames in the fireplace make tongues
and you and I dance slowly
while candles burn intimately
and make long shadows
and your eyes gleam and are large,
you do look innocent
and it feels as if the whole wide world
lies open before us
and I feel the artery
beating in your neck,
your perfume fills my nose
and there is something deep
that I read in your eyes.
Outside the branches of the avocado tree
are beating on the roof
and time is busy
getting its own wings
but inside we are dancing
as if we are free from everything.
Satish Verma, 12 november 2014
Space has all the silent approval,
truth will not multiply.
Another funeral takes place
in the barren field of lies.
Fire burns the life’s hopes,
while town mourns the death.
Sunshine bakes the eyes
but truth will not multiply.
Desireless peak of thoughts
sets out the smoke,
towards our homes,
trampling the shame, guilt and hurts.
We were still indulging in useless talk
but truth will not multiply.
Virtue has a unique impulse
a drone in the ears.
Fog was waiting for the sky.
The planet empties a bucket of sorrow.
I will favour the faceless name,
but truth will not multiply.
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 11 november 2014
After making love your skin glows
and your have energy
as if something is living in you
with fire in your eyes
and the room cools down,
while darkness is sheltering us
and outside the rain falls
as without end
and while you sleep
in the moonlight I trace the lines
of your face
and I feel you breathing against me.
Satish Verma, 11 november 2014
A candid confession from you,
when your identity started protruding
from innocent rage.
You were accepting defeat
without a fight.
The lips tell the grief of human failure,
your prudence propped up
by Prozac.
A beautiful collection of anxieties
adorned on the shelf of life.
A cruise in veins
to dispel the high cholesterol
dewy-eyed mirror
and ambulating pain.
Satish Verma
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