Satish Verma, 26 august 2014
A sin between us
transcends hidden paths.
I start digging endless questions.
What was that interminable and esoteric?
Give me a clue. Lift your hand
and write the name of the recluse.
I am connecting to unknown
for the answer.
we are all guilty here.
Do not wait for me
I have steered the boat
towards the rapids.
Without time a half moon
will shift
And I will weep for the fallen saint.
Begging for the words
beseeching the pernicious wounds
I will go in hysteria.
* The protagonist in Spanish Tragedy of Kyd.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 25 august 2014
Night melts into tears,
day sums up the pain.
A fear stalks the flute,
and darkness falls on the drapes.
I was lake,
and I was sun.
I held you on to my breast.
give me your fangs,
and give me your venom.
I am blue and I am the death.
Centuries of wounds
and millions of scars.
Silence of sky,
and lull in the clouds.
I am the storm,
and I am the gale.
* I am... I exist...
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 24 august 2014
Your truth always happened at wrong time
You were guilty of telling lies to death.
Swimming all over the life’s ports,
jumping up and down in a stinky swamp,
one day you were caught behind the epigram
encysted in perversity.
Let us talk about the frosty relations
breaking the norms.
Who is afraid of impromptu love?
We do not want to speak about the wasted
years thrown on garbage.
Every book was tossed out of the window,
mind became hollow.
We lit the candles with tears,
the mist enveloped us in intimacy.
Some of the days burned like dry wood
and some days grave-diggers arrived.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 23 august 2014
No more venom for me. My throat is full
and sore is spurting.
King cobra, take rest. You must be tired
after going for so many bouts.
Sleep well. I have to wake till eternity.
The time is running out and I am ready
for judgement.
A miracle has happened in the hungry eyes.
God helped them to hang with folded hands.
Nobody cried for dead.
Spates of suicides told it verbatim..
Names of victims were engraved
on painted boards.
Souls were covered with innocent songs.
A brutal wind blows. Everything
looks normal and serene.
Dirty lanes are again full of trembling
legs in wait for the handouts.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 22 august 2014
I want to shake them off,
weird thoughts,
like a swarm of bees,
buzzing, whining, aimed at nothing.
Want to write me off?
Loneliness. I
observe the hands of a watch
looks like they are not moving.
Time stands still.
Waits for me to move.
An atavistic ache.
Again I view the world.
Every body is making a sound without bending.
With dreams dead I step into emptiness
barefoot, to feel the earth.
Not going to quit,
free to kill my ghost
I move into sunlight.
Satish Verma
Joe Breunig, 21 august 2014
Many doctors had failed to heal her;
her wealth was gone; unable to cope,
seemingly having no options left, she…
faced the idea of being bereft of hope.
A difficult issue of continual bleeding,
had bothered this woman for twelve years;
purposely maneuvering through the crowd,
she hoped to meet Christ, and draw near.
“If only, I could physically touch Him,
my personal need can be forever met.”
Summoning the last of her inner strength,
she pressed onward without any regret.
Her health was dramatically worsening
and drastic action was now required;
since Christ was visibly close by,
perhaps healing she urgently desired
would become available to her this day.
Moving boldly with faith towards Him,
silently reaching out for his garment
with her weakened, slender limb…
she briefly caressed the hem of His robe.
And suddenly- her discomfort was gone!
Without warning, virtue leapt out of Him;
and now He wanted a face to gaze upon.
To everyone’s astonishment, He stopped;
then came the simple, unexpected question:
“Who touched me?” He patiently inquired.
Initially, there was apparent confusion,
from not knowing who, He was addressing.
Scared and embarrassed, she fell face down
at His feet, ready to weep and apologize.
“Rise up my daughter, from the dusty ground;
tell me your life’s story of suffering;
since your faith was successfully released,
My strength has cured you of your agony;
return home with my blessings and peace.”
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Mark 5:24-34
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
Esther Thornburg, 21 august 2014
Springtime and harvest will always be.
It may bring bounty for you and me.
The gardener's hands meet the demands.
They prepare the bounty of the land.
If you wish to travel abundance way.
Learn to garden and to stay.
The oldest profession is still here today.
Plants and herbs do find their way.
Plants prepare the nutrients from the soil.
The same soil formed you to toil.
Care for the labors of the day.
Prepare a bounty, let it stay.
There is joy in garden ways.
Learn the wonders it displays.
They are in gardens big and small.
Place a pot on the window sill.
Gert Strydom, 20 august 2014
With her long legs continually flashing,
on her small heel and toe she is dancing
keeping perfectly to the banging rhythm
in passing smiling sweetly at the king.
Past she dances again, smiles, laughs and turn,
the king watches while he is taciturn
with her skirt rising in loveliness
while brightly blazing, flaming torches burn,
to the men, the king the dance ends too soon,
while outside hangs a tiny sickle moon,
she is asked to dance once more,
to dance flirting and to ask for a boon.
In sheer pristine beauty she stands tall,
asks for the head of a holy man to fall.
Gert Strydom, 20 august 2014
There is companionship and trust between us
when I embrace you tightly against me,
I am aware of your heartbeat
and it’s as if that moment holds something deeper
Ailill, 20 august 2014
Witnessing another side of life
Feeling it in my bones
Remembering what I left behind
Didn’t ask to die alone
Want to forget I keep on dying
a little more every day
but in winds of fate, no denying
The toll we all got to pay
This body, a wilting flower
Will I rise to see the dawn?
Clock ticks toward witching hour
With so much undone
Released from this limbo world
a light shines through the doorway
Shades of this passing side show
fade into the rain
Pouring myself some burgundy wine
Into this cup of bitterness
A couple sips to quiet this troubled mind
Into sweet forgetfulness
Promise me just one last dance
I’m feeling a second wind
Begging for a second chance
Need to tie up some loose ends
This dance is leaving me breathless
Raise that bar a little more
Don’t feed me to the wine press
Got to get back to where I was before
Released from this limbo world
a light shines through the doorway
Shades of this passing side show
fade into the rain
Fading into the rain...
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