Joe Breunig, 28 february 2014
I can depend on Christ to strengthen me!
Acknowledging that He is still in control,
no longer will I remain faint and weary-
since He comforts the depths of my soul.
Miracles always come in cans, not “can’ts”;
though His Presence and power are available,
I must humbly move forward under His guidance,
unashamedly wearing today’s Christian label.
His Spiritual fortitude divinely energizes me;
confidence in knowing that victory is coming,
allows me to perform with integrity and peace,
while expecting blessings that are forthcoming.
Discernment allows me to see impending storms,
which enables me to regularly act with character.
Behaving as more than a conqueror comes when…
I purpose to imbibe only on the heavenly nectar,
spiritual revelations of His sacred Scriptures.
Releasing God’s power is boldly accomplished,
from speaking His principles over my life daily,
once His kingdom in my heart- had been established.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Psa 46:10; 1 King 19:12-14; Matt 6:33;
John 8:31-32, 15:5
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
Gert Strydom, 28 february 2014
We wonder where sin and the act of it does begin
and if it affects us from without or from within
but at its core it does centre on the self and I
and as time does go by
it brings broken relationships
and grows to acts that do defy and lie
and yet God’s true love did conquer it
when in the shoes of a human the Son of God did fit
but if sin is left unguarded it grows bit by tiny bit
and does corrode peace and joy
and in the end does destroy.
Gert Strydom, 28 february 2014
When I look at the world around me
then its clear that a God does exist,
that there is an upper power and wisdom
that even does not miss the smallest living thing,
that does place star systems and planets in their orbits,
that causes the darkness to yield before the sun,
that determines structure and organs to be exact,
to work along in a living unit
a God who has given feelings,
wisdom and a conscience to man
and then people say that no creator does exist,
that he that does believe in the Bible
does squander life on a mere myth,
that evolution comes as a solid basis
but I will rather believe in an omnipotent God
than to live in a world of darkness
in which experiences does just happen,
and to be extradited to the will of destiny.
Satish Verma, 28 february 2014
A tribal fear
was lurking,
behind a surge of emotion.
The sun was looking black.
A sexual abuse
of a quaint flower
aborts the fruit.
This year we will go hungry.
A nascent seed
stripped on road-
cries for water.
We hear without listening.
Death by a grave
was a domestic claim.
But you were found dead in a bunker.
Life vows to stand alone
on the burning deck-
of a turbulent ship.
The ocean will find a bloody hand one day.
Satish Verma
B.Z. Niditch, 28 february 2014
Today's sky
will not be missed
in a sorry shade
of black and blue
when Arctic air
quietly smuggled in
from the East freezes
our lifeless bodies
of snow into ice
bright figurines
and my sax
is exposed
as my three oranges
eaten on my motorcycle
on the jazzy corner
for my timely gig,
yet a surreal poet is still
a Beat for life
in his runaway suit
when the same shade
shines in darkness
from a downtown club
on the window blinds
as a stranger offers
to help me
staring back at him
with a sponged fog
fills up the gas
both knowing the blahs
will not outlast
the skittering waters
on our faces
from snow kisses
and that spring
may be early
when words again flow
and my sax
will again beat out
its underground notes
to play the Blues.
B.Z. Niditch, 28 february 2014
The thunderstorm
daydream leaps
over a mushroom search
my eyes are volcanoes
at the grand piano
opening here in Warsaw
chasing my sunny breath
on the bridge
late for an afternoon recital
the "E" string
walks away from me
unsuspecting the passages
of Chopin's embracing notes.
B.Z. Niditch, 27 february 2014
Unwinding language
being shy
for the cameras
now all over
this metropolis
with words
in an attache case
holding only
cold luggage
held by four strings
containing
a life's work
of vital plays
on language
on one hand
a murdered pastry
in the other
shaking off
a coffee cup
on a Polish
hamlet road
in a runaway time
such as this,
faced with
a poet's newness
you may
not recognize him
or an age trembling
for enlightenment.
B.Z. Niditch, 27 february 2014
Deep down
at the crag's edge
the leaves tumble across
the great green hills
as portents
of your solitude
knowing the path
to climb
up the shadowy mountain
and deserted peaks
will be clear
for a lone traveler
with his backpack
full of pure poems
the shadows blush
at first light
expecting
the woodwinds
to sound
near the saxifrage
with blackberries
all around
as I spy
a mapped trail
shielding me
from quivering trees
a piano sonata
in the distance
with an echo
of capturing
a passage of Chopin
from this moment.
B.Z. Niditch, 27 february 2014
Surprised
by the anonymity
of a veteran hunger
digging for clams
trembling by
the frozen shore
in the shameful
staring eyes
of distracted tourists
eager for a ride
on duck boats
who toss
pocket money
and jelly beans
for good luck
in the ocean
watching for Leda
the last swan
who must have known
my visits
and not kept away
since we are
childhood friends
dripping with pre-war
memory's exposure
now wrapped
up in a jacket
with pocket poems
of my last collection
in an actor's words
on breathless wind
swept air
I'm always
carrying notes,
new and sundry
on my sleeve.
Gert Strydom, 27 february 2014
When in the morning the winter walks with dragging feet,
when a blanket of frost covers the earth
then you and I still lie cosily
and tight against each other
as if something pampering is in our company
as if our bodies at times do resist the cold.
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