Bob Gotti, 8 march 2014
There seems to be everywhere, intelligent people who don’t care,
About things of God we cherish; thought of God they just perish,
When speaking of God, they just sigh, as their Creator they deny,
Indifferent to the things of God, ending talk with a confident nod.
Whether for God, they’ve no time, or He never crosses their mind,
What all need to understand, their departure could be well at hand,
Departure from this temporal earth, without the Lord and new birth,
Means an eternity of darkness friend, as this life comes to an end.
Some people seem so far away, as words of God we have to say,
With intelligent people so aloof, even with all that unspoken proof,
While their words deny our Lord, not to mention, He goes ignored,
As they live out their daily life, there is no mention of Jesus Christ.
It’s not only men we pass each day, who may think the wrong way,
But, it’s our friends and family, who sigh at any talk about eternity;
The Lord our God they don’t need, so God’s Truth they don’t read,
Ignoring all Truth, revealed to us, they share not our hope in Jesus.
So we must give them over to, God, who saved both me and you,
We must leave them to The One, Who sent salvation for everyone,
The Only One, Who really can, change the hearts of wayward men,
Drawing them to that path in life, where they’ll accept Jesus Christ.
(Copyright ©04/2011 Bob Gotti)
Bob Gotti, 8 march 2014
Every minute, hour, every morning, He is with me into evening,
And He’s with me all night long, as He fills my heart with song,
A song that carries me all day, as I walk along that narrow way,
In the most trying time of my life, I’m led along by Jesus Christ.
The trial could be here to stay, but, Christ is with me every day,
And every day, He gives me hope, as The Lord helps me cope,
Though the times may look bleak, He helps me when I am weak,
In my weakness His power shows, as my strength in Him grows.
My hope is beyond what I know, as my Faith He allows to grow,
While His Spirit directs me above, all through the trial I speak of,
My trial that will not last forever, while God will forsake me never,
While I walk with Him earnestly, looking forward towards Eternity.
Though I am tried for a while, He helps me keep a cheerful smile,
From God’s peace, He put inside, as in Christ, my Savior I abide,
Through God’s strength and power, as I abide each day and hour,
Being a testimony, for all to see, of the Grace, Christ granted me.
It’s for God’s purpose that I’m here, so in my trial, I need not fear,
Or get weighed down in anxiety, as He knows what’s best for me,
For God, I am here as living proof, of God’s Power and His Truth,
A light, for those around my life, that they may know Jesus Christ.
(Copyright ©04/2011 Bob Gotti)
Satish Verma, 8 march 2014
Something impossible would happen.
Truth was too much to operate,
life was easy with fakes.
Neither mortal pain, nor needles
would mend the wounds. The chasm
was deepening. And I stitch the orange lights
with the kisses of green tears.
For the punishment of disjointed commitments,
I dream of the killings
standing on the corpse of faith. The
obscene slogans raise the dust,
of hate crimes. The color of the race
was spreading, on bellies, on stones.
The night will bring spiralling comets
in the sky, burning and emptying
the pure.
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 7 march 2014
It was yet another bright sunny summer day
and the sky was pure blue as if only just created by God,
up and down sparrows and weavers flew and nothing was odd,
butterflies fluttered and bees buzzed and it was if all was at play.
Your eyes were golden and bright like the sun
and in them I read messages of love,
there was a kind of beauty that nothing can remove
and around us the entire world was having fun.
Your smile was happy and the dearest thing,
something beautiful that caught the eye
and all around us different birds did fly
twittering and cooing and praising some did sing.
Since then I have learnt that all of life is ephemeral,
moments may deceive or be true,
even if there is something special between me and you
nothing in reality is eternal
and yet that day remains with me constantly.
Satish Verma, 7 march 2014
If erupts again –
the eternal hate of caucuses.
A pipe bomb detonates in a gulley.
Death glides as a superman
like a mutiny in the bowl.
Night stumbles against the kissing moon
on the shore of waning hope.
I will not mourn for my color
I am still nursing a grief.
Walking alone in the shadow of walls
to unhear the screams of dawn.
Satish Verma
Greg, 6 march 2014
To strive on like the soldier
Weighing risks and counting boulders
Two fires are started in my soul
One that abhors me
And one that adores that
Which comes to attack me
And shatter my scheme
Rhythms beat repetitious
Gleaning a small glance
To be torn away by the hounds of hell
Barking in my ear
*ring ring ring*
I’m coming
The door swings open
And eyes wide shut
Embrace the golden calf that sits
On a throne made out of God-shit
Relentless adoration
For two passing songs
One a reflection of the other
And the other the same
Grasping at each other
For something substantial
But only by knowing
Can this be possible
Free from the grasp
That gives rise to this barren earth
Full of luscious green life
And teeming with insidious competition
The bloom of the flower
And the hum of the bee
Are but trinket coverings
Of the endless suffering that they are
And the sooner this is seen
The sooner the green skys turn grey
The quicker life comes to an end
And Green can be seen
Not just in the grass
But through the grass
From the other side
A few shout to us
To just give up
And let out a welting cry
To melt the candle wax
Of your daily teardrops
That arrive and arrive
To descend and pretend
To be hollow, lonely, and barren
Joe Breunig, 6 march 2014
Hidden layers of meaning,
completely permeate The Word;
they’re found by spiritual eyes
and a desire for absolute Truth-
to overcome the enemy’s lies.
Take time to study the Bible
and its many, divine precepts.
Embrace them with your heart;
learn lessons from others’ pain;
keep life from falling apart.
Be led by the true Love,
behind the scarlet thread;
for God identifies His own,
by the principles found…
in the Scriptures alone.
Author Notes:
Sola Scriptura - Latin term meaning “the Scriptures Alone”.
Loosely based on:
Josh 2:18-19; John 14:6
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
Gert Strydom, 6 march 2014
I waited at the motored gate
when winter was bleak and grey
and the early morning fog seemed desolate
as I had not seen the sun on that day
The morning mist blotted out the sky
and in the distance a plover’s call did resound
but then much more lonely was I
when much further away howled a hound.
The features of the houses seemed to me
like spectres ever present but unknown
as if all hope was covered by the foggy canopy
with no sharp, real features being shown
and wet and wicked smelled the earth
if like this all days would now run by,
as if a kind of illness was present at each birth,
as if the destruction of man was nigh
but in the old oak tree some birds were fluttering
and crystal clear and gay
a dove did its song of love sing
and unlimited a sudden ray
did the fog part
as if the bird had a kind of hope and love
that did speak to the depths of the heart,
as if brightness was coming that nothing could remove.
Satish Verma, 6 march 2014
Got struck on the spiky gate
a half-eaten deer
shattering the panther.
Daggers were drawn.
Terrier was in the glass house.
Canine discretion to draw the blood
between friends.
A crisp murder of a terrorist.
spotted face of the relentless moon
sending flames to jasmines.
The little skulls popping up
amongst rumors.
I scream in a celestial leap.
I could walk in ruins
of incarnations
preaching for death.
Satish Verma
Greg Essential, 6 march 2014
przekrwionym okiem
boga
spoglądam
na siebie
bez litości
jak na wydrążony kokon
owada którym byłem
zanim zrozumiałem
że zardzewiała struga brudu
w pękniętym klozecie
piękniejsza jest niż
urwana ręka madonny
bloodshot eye
of god
I gaze at myself
no mercy
as at hollow cocoon
of insect which was
before I realized that
rusty dirty track
in cracked toilet pan
is more beautiful than
hand of madonna
torn off
[english translation is lame and under construction]
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