Joe Breunig, 26 june 2014
In Him alone, I find perfect rest for my spirit.
My soul’s satisfaction is girded by Salvation;
Christ is my rock, my fortress of protection,
and the lasting source of my Faith’s foundation.
In Him alone, I place my entire, unshaken trust.
Today, the enemy continues to assault my soul,
using his pain weapon of lie-laden speech;
yet, His Love exudes power that makes me whole.
In Him alone, I have placed my heart’s hope.
My dependence, remains on Christ, as my refuge.
Therefore, I stand with my personal conviction,
against the enemy’s onslaught and false deluge.
In Him alone, I have gained the final victory.
The sting of Death has been eternally conquered;
spiritual provisions were provided in advance;
in the cleft’s rock, my life has been anchored.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Psa 62; 1 Cor 15:55-58; Exo 33:12-23
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
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By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
Gert Strydom, 26 june 2014
There are times that I pray
for those that I love and know
and sometimes the words just flow
and at other times I have got nothing to say
and on every single day
God does His goodwill bestow
and with compassion my words do sometimes glow
or they are swept away
like leaves blown in the wind
and sometimes some thoughts do remain
when some problems to me are too much
but before I know it I do find
happiness instead of pain
when God do lives silently touch.
Gert Strydom, 26 june 2014
The orange-red colour of the new morning,
the first blossoming flower of spring
and up in the big old oak tree
the chatter of little birds that sing,
the blue of the sky’s canopy,
the buzzing of bee after bee
from flower to flower
are things that are dear to me
and when life comes with thundershower after thundershower
and even the smallest problems do gigantic tower
like solid rocky hills of the hardest stone,
then there is still beauty in even the simplest flower
and when at times I am all-alone
and every friend is gone
then life seems far too much
until I hear you bright voice on the phone.
Satish Verma, 26 june 2014
To drill a hope in the drowned soul
was very difficult,
winds had blown away
the talisman.
Stress was palpable,
you could tear the weather with empty hands.
Mists had walked into the houses
to pick up the burning cheeks.
Man was playing with nature
until death time.
Stones piled up,
burning tyres on the road.
Visionaries were celebrating the all blinds
day, in an echo chamber_
and all the people were standing
on no-man’s-land for peaceful coexistence.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 25 june 2014
would give anything to die
in you, in your belly,
innocently. My voice of dissent
should hold the wings atop the kisses.
The wards in between fall on
choked Eustachian. A global grief
encircles the fallen gods, prophets
of sins.
My other self silently awakens me,
this very night as I swallow my pride
and walk through the corridors of childhood
to learn again the alphabet of death.
The shadows are lengthening.
One by one the friends have departed.
The hour of loneliness was stretching.
So it be!
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 23 june 2014
Night was not worth
selling the womb. Biological warheads
were sufficient to take on
the gender eugenesis.
People were busy again, in worshipping
the archaic weapons.
What is holding them together?
The fear of extinction? Or the celiac trauma
depriving them of all the healthy nutrients.
The warrior is dead, only his long nose
is still smelling the foul odors
of hate and strife.
The beetles are coming and the caterpillars,
swarming over the beds. Where will you
sleep now? And beyond was the life wasted,
and darkness. On mantel are standing
the empty frames of future, trying
to hold the lava, back and forth.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 22 june 2014
Dying piece by piece in shock –
a life without a mutiny.
Walking amidst blue kraits
you never raised the stick.
Of extinct possibilities in the night
of unmanned crossing-
the blood streaked globe goes on
revolving round the blazing sun.
Short legged pygmies waving
to tall peaks of ice from the
burnt-out shelters, to learn
obedience again.
Crushed and upturned, we lost
each other in the jungle of
uncertainties. Peeled off skin
made us afraid of each other.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 21 june 2014
He was still paying the price
for ultimate unbending.
Before the black icon locked the waves
to start tremors for an apolitical murder.
He took the call and stood straight,
stopped the melodrama of drinking the venom
and became larger than death.
This is the story of a common man,
who remained silent, went on looking
for the invisible marks on the ornamental sword
carved after every farewell to the severed
head of another clan.
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 20 june 2014
(in answer to Anne Sexton)
With stars exploding above my head
the moon creeping
as a large yellow ball in to the heights
there is no sight
of the unseen serpent
striking at the light,
neither does it roar our with flaming breath,
nor do I see it causing any death,
only do I see the hand of God
in the intensity, the pleasure
of the sparkling shiny things
as a minutely small human being
against the enormity of it all.
[Reference: “The Starry Night” by Anne Sexton.]
Gert Strydom, 20 june 2014
When that moment suddenly comes beautifully
while you clothes fall at your feet
you slowly fold open like a pure white flower
and my life, my universe comes to a standstill
and I do not hear shots being fired far off outside
when energy and yearning quivers through us
and I become just more than an animal,
while your eyes shine and glitter like emery
and moments are full of what we are and want to be.
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