Gert Strydom, 30 june 2014
Maybe far too long I have waited
for the time to come to meet you again,
to walk with you in the sieving winter rain,
to with you be elated
about small happy things,
to forget the heartache and pain
and with you in my arms to remain,
and together to live through happy tidings.
With us there is no end to love, it lingers
but maybe it’s just another act
on the stage of life,
that is trying to slip through my fingers
but through the years it tries
to remain intact
while nights and days dies
Gert Strydom, 30 june 2014
When suddenly the thing called happiness is gone
and in the great old world we are all alone
then it’s hard to find any kind of peace of mind
and it’s as if we become the only one
that is facing any difficulty
and its as if the whole world
has turn to black and white and grey
and of the brilliant colours there are none
and when it feels even when we go on our knees to pray
that nothing does the power of destiny sway,
as if nothing is happening
and if it’s just another awful kind of day
then yet suffering, heartache and pain
although these feelings sometimes do remain
are full of counterparts
and the little things in life
comfort many troubled hearts
and even brings peace to times of strive
and then suddenly it’s with different eyes that we see
our own human fatality
and where and how we fit into the world
and all the small miracles that comes gratis and free
out of the hand of a loving and caring God.
Satish Verma, 30 june 2014
It was a taxidermal view
thousands of fawns on the lake.
Can you handle the die-off
of the whole truth?
I have nowhere to go. Genes are
turning on, turning off. Bare hands
holding the bruises.
Hungry, but cannot eat
looking at the tattoos on the back of
starving children.
I am sick these days in the midst of glory
and shame. Faithlessness is a prize
wrapped by shadows. The snakes
are climbing on the walls.
Human things, like chimps
kissing and hugging to calm down.
in memoriam of a lost tribe.
The body of a chaste god
lies buried under the debris of unholy secrets.
Homeless I wander, beneath the high sky.
Satish Verma
Krishna Shivkumar Yadav, 29 june 2014
My whole life I nurtured thee, the light of my home.And now the time has arrived when I shall bid youfarewell. Clad in red silk on thy wedding day, with thescandal paste on thy forehead, and adorned as ayoung bride I’m losing thee tonight. But beforeembracing and plugging you into my chest, finallytransferring a cache of affection, I shall handle thelight of my home in groom’s hand taking my departurein the shadow. And when thee as a young bride inwooden palanquin had gone, I shall wash my eyes withmy tears unbeknownst to thee.
Satish Verma, 29 june 2014
Fearing the haze of ending
this body does not behave now.
Puppet show was over.
Punch – drunk we move
amidst the psychopaths, who were
foraging the aroma from armpits.
Loincloths hanging on the strings to strangle
the pigeons.
Everything moves with precision.
Sex on the mind.
The master wants the untouched flesh,
quietly without any sound.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 28 june 2014
It was set on fire, the market place:
from a distance I was watching, the
hieroglyphic climate of the cutouts;
some shoes with yellow human feet embedded
in them, were thrown on the images
of gods, lying on the steps of tanks:
on hills the sex workers were doing
brisk business in private retreats
of the holiest of towns, a golden dome
was being erected as an insult to poors,
the streaked priests chanting the sacred
hymns, hurling the abuses on red faced
simians waiting on the rooftops,
ashamed to share the inherited lineage
but why one should kill one’s own daughter?
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 27 june 2014
Every day I find something new
in what people do or say
and every now and then
the world does ring
with something that is exciting
and sometimes your kiss
and your touch is just a touch and a kiss
but at other times its much more
than just a time of bliss
and at times means far too much
in the way that life is.
Gert Strydom, 27 june 2014
With know-how and trust
seeds sprout from the dust
and with the summer sun and rain
the fields are full of maize again
but with the skilled commercial farmer removed,
even if the land is loved
famine does come
to each and every home.
Gert Strydom, 27 june 2014
Throughout life different places I have been,
various things I have seen
and although some days seemed odd
many little miracles came from the hand of God.
Satish Verma, 27 june 2014
A pagan will search for antiparticles
after a collective wrong:
some tantric will throw up the smoke rings
before the poean starts.
Come, stand beside me,
sadness is going to find me again
on the oak tree. A hairy spirit climbs up
to give a call of a touch wood for a voyager.
The viscera has been packed for the
final verdict of a forensic lab.
Now I have nowhere to go
between myself and truth.
It might not end, the poor conversation
between life and death.
The eyemask saves the guilt of sleepless
nights at old punctuations. Makes
the words ferocious for the lamenting cause.
From tree to tree the fireflies swing.
Satish Verma
Poetry
Prose
Photography
Graphics
Video poems
Postcards
Diary
Books
Handmade
