Renato N. Mascardo, 22 january 2014
remembering again
among the dwindling dendrites and dying neurons
where stored memories ineluctably ooze out and
dissolve into the nothingness of growing old
one thought clings steadfastly to the ruins of the past
a face a date a sense of friendship remain
untouched by the apoptotic forgetting in the old
bright flashing embers within the dying smokeless flames//
renato
on 22 january 2014
Geetima Baruah Sarma, 21 january 2014
Dew-drops,
Adorn a morn,
Glitter like pearls,
Cling on to cobwebs,
Rest on petals and grass,
As if to herald the golden sun,
And shine with a bright sparkle.
[Published in 'HighOnPoems' on 21 January 2014]
Gert Strydom, 21 january 2014
We strive in all what we do and we are
somehow for truth,
for something to outlast our humanity,
our dwindling youth
in a world that is in constant decay
but each untruth
in our humanity is buried deep
while in life we yearn, learn, laugh, play and weep.
Satish Verma, 21 january 2014
This overwhelming emptiness:
something to present allegorical, figuratively,
which is not here. Vultures were coming back.
A stimulating dialogue must start
to release the hostages of unknown fears.
The menacing fog was towering over statements.
Everything was turning into coal and the smoke
was streaming from the oasis.
Where we were on the impounded road
unstuck after ethnic cleansing?
The jealous blood was coloring the greed
on the cold shoulders of priested bluff.
The beast loses the domination, bread
and milk of drifting poor. In glass house the
clouds were entering. The dissecting table
was ready to nail the sea of hate.
Satish Verma
Greg, 20 january 2014
Blackness covers sunshine
The raven loses ground
Morose by its nature
Lost, lost just to be found
In all it had forsaken
Dismantled and procured
In the vanity of beauty
Where love comes to ruin
A comfortable despair
A languished angry song
Held out on a prayer
That just once nothing goes wrong
But once is for infinity; splicing the moment to a smooth fracture
And by asking I shall never receive
The burden is upon the ox’s shoulder
To shut the fuck up and just make believe
That life
Is hollow and cold
Build a fort around your soul
To never ever ever ever ever show
The love you really are
Kept hidden away, deep in the dark
And I understand,
Trust me
I’m a coward too
Gert Strydom, 20 january 2014
On a Sunday afternoon
there is a silence that lingers
when wild doves, weavers and sparrows
peck some seed from the back lawn,
while the two Jack Russell dogs
stretch out in the sun,
bees and butterflies buzz and flutter from flower to flower,
while the sun hangs white and bright in the cobalt-blue sky
and then your eyes sparkle when they catch mine,
while there is a restful tranquillity
when the shadows stretch out long
and roses, geraniums and gardenias
flaunt with their most beautiful flowers
and everything is lovely
like only a day with you can be.
Satish Verma, 20 january 2014
A blue moon was crabbing at night
in the sea of stars. Yuu could hear
the outcry of herons suddenly.
It was mayhem. Heads will now roll for defiant
attitude. The creepers were trapped
in the impatient blind-catchers.Unforgettable
waiting for the flamed silence was from
night till dawn. The sun will peep discreetly.
The breasted curve of a cloud hoists
a golden thrust in multitude of wings. Day
arrives with a bang riding on bruises. A blast
fills the obtuse mother whose child was dead at the gate.
Sucked slowely, the crumbled walls
put up the silver of noon in background. Someone
covers the body with white mattress. Another
number is added on the page.
Satish Verma
Insatiable Sohail, 19 january 2014
O Human being !
Arise from sleep
It's already too late.
Don't you ever think-
Who create you ?
Why you are here ?
And where is your destination ?
Think wisely
Be eagle-eyed and far-sighted.
What you are seeing is nothing
But what you'll see is everything.
What is the benefit of quarrel ?
So establish peace
Spread power of love.
Do good deeds before it is too late
As they are never lost.
And make your life meaningful.
Insatiable Sohail, 19 january 2014
He was my father
Who is no more now.
I never thought he was so dear to me.
I realize his absence
By the emptiness of his presence.
He was my guide
Source of the light
Of my power of inspiration.
He never throttle my freedom of choice
He teaches me the reality.
A sure way of making sure.
Now I can see the foreseeable future.
What I am today
Merely his contribution.
He left me alone
This loss is irreparable.
A loss that can never be made up
A sorrow that cannot be forgotten.
A great privation for me
Not be able to speak to my father.
Satish Verma, 19 january 2014
On the street between the impeachment
and castle a divine release was being
enacted engaging the durable peace in seething winter.
A somber black cloud of smoke was
slowly reclaiming the sun.
A disgraced militant was pounding his chest
for not killing priceless bees
who were initializing the flowers of Aden. The
death was laid out in a row before the child
was born. Dead prophets were watching from the eyes of dolls.
Satish Verma
Poetry
Prose
Photography
Graphics
Video poems
Postcards
Diary
Books
Handmade
