Gert Strydom, 20 june 2014
Like every coloured leave
falling in the autumn
with trees standing skeleton
the days of each human being runs out
while time continually keeps going on,
when expectations and acts that are gambled away are lost
as opportunities that cannot come to reality
and when all hope and dreams at a time come to an end
and that which had been is eternally passed,
when even ability and knowledge
cannot change the new world
and everything just fades away into memory
of that which may have been
then the new world is unknown and full of fear
Satish Verma, 20 june 2014
When the battle lines were drawn,
the only mandate
for the human torpedo was to blow up
the silence of time.
Sick was the death-struck
new born, praise of the ghost of tiger
in the name of glory of green eyes.
The orange moon was absolutely naked;
the snow dripped in a cave to form a cone
and the valley was burning wide.
The bag of charcoal given
to a shephered had turned into gold-
nuggets at home. The vultured sky
was claiming more bodies.
A miracle was swelling the crowd
and the crown was proud of deaths.
Satish Verma
Joe Breunig, 19 june 2014
Absolutely essential, for saved people,
is the true concept of Christian ideals.
For they serve as inspirational guidelines,
in the development of holy, inner steel.
These ideals motivate Christians to action,
on behalf of the Christ, within His Will.
In addition, one strives to humbly live,
without the trappings of religious frills.
These principles affect one’s attitude,
in doing what aught to be done in service.
They provide vision with sacred direction,
whereby one is unashamed and not nervous.
Ultimately, when one is truly Spirit-led,
Christian ideals enables one to focus
on the important missions of the Kingdom,
thus achieving… success of divine purpose.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
1 King 8:18
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
Gert Strydom, 19 june 2014
Without human control it moves on
and soon a day, a night, a week is gone
while no human science can make it pause;
or has capacity to turn time to stone.
By its own accord it ebbs and it flows,
if by divine providence it goes
through the ages of man into aeons
moving through times of happiness and woes.
Yet there may come a final end to it
when in the Master’s hand its passing fit,
when with Godly power He deems it to stop
and seconds going forward bit by bit
will in earthly dimension be no more,
when the planet turns to be like before.
Gert Strydom, 19 june 2014
I hear the Sugar-bush-hillocks breathing,
a jackal howling in the night,
see a few bats turning in the moonlight
and hear turtledoves cooing in the dark
with the smell of flowering proteas in the air.
Satish Verma, 19 june 2014
Spark of libido was doused
in golden dust.
Let the darkness decide
the ascension of ice.
The possession of naked rose,
him, the pure jewel
panicks in the manipulation of hands
crawling on the purple sea
of corals. A battle starts
for a mystic wheel, for opening
the door of heaven. A sooty
entrance in the hall of sins.
The gathering of queens, a flock
of serpents; the failing guts
of the hero, what if the city
that never wakes.
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 18 june 2014
While technology makes life
more comfortable
man has become estranged
from the purpose of his existence
and slowly life starts
to only turn around the self
and people wonder
if a God does really exist
so as if with time
they are becoming gods themselves.
Gert Strydom, 18 june 2014
We wait upon a new tomorrow
where life is different
and are astounded with each new morning
that the experience of the day
just stays the same
and sometimes I wonder how the days would be
without hope, promises and wishes
and we are bound to the whirlpool of destiny
and of time
as only humans
and in today all of the things do lie
that makes every new tomorrow a reality.
Gert Strydom, 18 june 2014
From my first glance of you, when we did meet,
love did begin
and now its presence is so very great
it feels as sin
when you draw near to me, it’s clear to me
that I can win
nothing more and it’s like no other thing
when love grows selfless without questioning.
Satish Verma, 18 june 2014
Out of the cleft lip comes
a muffled voice
on the turn of events,
to interrupt a call.
Then the panic rises,
the blood was oozing from the larynx.
The winding mountain path goes to the end
of blessing where the prayer drowns.
What was happening to the golden land?
Did the green worry about the iced peaks,
from where the glaciers take a bend
to enter the valley?
Who was negotiating the winds?
The logic between the stars and moon?
Huge gods were speaking to the men
in black, wearing eye masks on the highest terrains,
not heading my grief.
The dust was crying.
Satish Verma
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