Gert Strydom, 11 september 2014
At times we are free from pain and sorrow,
when bright sunlight
brings a new tomorrow with hope and joy,
when each long night
sparkles with some romantic attractions,
where we both might
live lives together to the utter brim,
might truly love in a world that is grim.
Gert Strydom, 11 september 2014
Flickering the flame of a candle burns
drawing lines when you awake,
there are patterns and dark forms
that it makes on the walls,
your eyes gleam,
there is suddenly a smile that touches me,
you are supple and soft against me
and forever I could lie like this without any movement.
Satish Verma, 11 september 2014
The evening opens a wound,
a secret agony.
It neither heals nor gives solace.
The sacred whore who liberates herself
from the flesh.
Sun is pink and ashamed.
A crescent moon thought it was time
to step outside and find out the truth.
Night was willing to participate. She
wrote a message on the sky
as a survivor of a slaughter.
And now the paths of winds trace
a faded destiny of earth. It had
nothing to offer, till the god of hopes
comes in purple light and the jasmines,
open their dancing eyes.
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 10 september 2014
At night something is jogging between the houses
that is neither animal nor man
and the face of it is distorted
full of hatred with a unearthly meaning,
with eyes gleaming bloody red
that makes people freeze from fear
when he climbs through a window,
comes nearer, grabs you with mighty arms
and everywhere the dogs of the neighbourhood are barking,
howl and cry in great fear
as the figure is something more terrifying than from the grave
and everything that comes across it wants to flee and hide from it
as where it comes blood does flow
before the first glowing of the morning.
Gert Strydom, 10 september 2014
I am really blessed by her presence,
my truest love
brings the most intense feelings that nothing
can quench, remove,
she has been prepared, designed for me
by God above
and while we are constantly together
she is dear and I cannot forget her.
Satish Verma, 10 september 2014
I did not will them
dreams of crystals
a stupid calendar of flight
from insomnic past.
Do not want to return to future,
hub of my clouds.
History had been writhing and screaming.
Present cannot redeem my woes.
I ask my bleak, frosted branches
where the birds have gone?
The songs, green hills, divine particles?
When they will enter in frozen affairs?
Anti-matter is now colliding with black energy
I am faltering a rhythm.
helplessly watch a xenomorphic face
disappearing in the blue sky.
Satish Verma
Bipurna Tara, 9 september 2014
What you are
Or whatever you do
This is the environment
To be weak
To love you.
Gert Strydom, 9 september 2014
There is a kind of loneliness, brokenness
deep in your eyes
a searching to a deeper meaning
and deeply moved
I wanted to bring something holy and honourable to you,
my inability
had me tattling when did come near
and with your great beauty I was astonished.
Gert Strydom, 9 september 2014
Where children try to catch peach beetles and butterflies
there faces are radiant and red cheeked,
the fragrances of the peaches and apricots are in the orchard
and there is a peaceful tranquillity hanging over the whole garden.
Everything that is sweet they press into their mouths,
exuberant they run up and down
to find new discoveries
of the most beautiful flowers growing on the ground.
Satish Verma, 9 september 2014
It was not worth it.
Building of castles on the dirty roads.
Offering spiritual coalition
of unscented certainties.
Admission of reversing the course of river
does not exonerate.
Mind polluted, face dripping with fantasies
clairvoyance, but confirming nothing.
Quasi-tales mingling with facts
take you to summer of hopes.
You are not here. I feel a cheap anonymity.
Charred body, clayey hands building a tomb.
Frond unfurling from the stump
gives a clue, without plea.
Rising from nothingness
to unending nothingness.
Satish Verma
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