Gert Strydom, 23 september 2013
At dusk when the night
had stolen the last rays of the sun,
I heard you laughing outside in the garden
and your blouse was a bright yellow.
There were bushes of daisies flowering
and hand in hand we walked
before the shadows did come
and suddenly the sky was dark but open
with stars bedecking the whole heaven
as if they were hanging on a gigantic tree
and some were green, or blue or white
and like a young deer I caught you
and wanted to share these things with you
while the breeze was playing through the old tree.
Satish Verma, 23 september 2013
Every night this body
becomes a dissecting knife
a crime scene of blood
and unstrung flesh,
the lamb spreads the wool
for a deadly charge of skull plate
with a gift of mathematics
a moon cutout in sky
before the shadow of myth in the depth
of tortured chemistry:
the endless nothing will kiss the darkness
my blindness becomes a diet.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 22 september 2013
Weaving fine fibres of unripe
beliefs, from a fire base, a blue bird
scrambles, shading the stone valley.
There was no thrift for the cadavers.
The burnt relics were eating away the greens
of tearful eyes. Sun was slugging again.
A gag, a prison, a list; the trial was not
ending. A smell of burning leaves from a
guilt of smouldering garden, seeps through
the procession of thoughts, something which
cannot be questioned. Red blossoms of
clouds distract the blue flames of stars.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 21 september 2013
They were ready
to suck the crowd. The child was pushed
into lentil soup, boiling, to appease the rain god.
Shining masks, the celebration starts;
surging a myth, crown of hawthorn,
hallucinating dance.
The people lick their fingers,
feast for claws and incisers
I run for the cross, please wait.
Emptying tomorrow in the lifting
hands of blunt queen. The watercolor
was casting the vote.
A freedom descends on the wounded
legs, as they drag with nobility.
Thumb by thumb you clutch the tree.
Satish Verma
Milena Sušnik Falle, 20 september 2013
Življenje
na mojih ramenih
včasih zazveni,
kot brušen kozarec
rezan z diamantom -
na stičišču tistih senc,
ki potujejo z mano,
kot žeja
in glad.
Življenje
na mojih ramenih
včasih spodmakne
viseče dneve, poti…
tiste nepozabljene,
vrezane vase,
da v utvari pomislim,
kako meni poje,
zaljubljeni škržat.
Milena Sušnik Falle - Slovenija
(pesniška zbirka TEMPUS FUGIT - Čas beži)
Salvatore Ala, 20 september 2013
... neither God nor No-God
Louis MacNeice
Not clouds but burkas naked on clotheslines,
Hawksmoor gloom with Horus eye,
Warzone Luftwaffe left-over thunder,
Lions’ heads on building tops,
Quorum of the heavens… London fog
And a neighborhood in London fog,
The ghost of Hitchcock at the window
Of his house gave the shadow of a doubt.
Nothing was real, not buildings or streets.
Only a waking sleep from cab to cab
And a destination from which you depart.
Not clouds but statues wet in flesh
And veil, as in “The Winter’s Tale,”
Or the dead likeness of a changing guard.
North of the city an explosion; south, a beheading.
Astride the block a shadow slumps.
The head of God, a cloud in a basket.
Gert Strydom, 20 september 2013
Lord, You have promised
to let the bones rise again
and to bring them back to life
and everywhere people are robbed,
while death comes far too quickly in our country
as if evil touches everything
and around survival a struggle rages
while your people does stumble and fall
and everywhere bones are lying around
and work opportunities for my people
are stripped to the skeleton.
Lord, draw the line and erect my people again,
You have got the power
to let rulers and governments come and go,
to fold Your hands
around the bare bones of my people.
Lord, I ask that You do restore my people
to also be able to lead a free life.
Gert Strydom, 20 september 2013
Just once more I want to stand on my knees in front of You
and take all of the problems of my country to You
and maybe this suppression is necessary, Lord,
maybe now my people will now convert themselves
but Lord, some of my people die a cruel death
and many are jobless and in great need.
Lord, You do appoint leaders and governments,
You do determine the lifecycle of every human being
and of everything
and I beg that Your salvation will come
before I die in my years of old age.
My Lord, think of me, my nation and my country
and keep us continually in Your omnipotent hand.
Satish Verma, 20 september 2013
for beheading the raceme
three bullets went into the bubbling chest the assassins
had come when she was alone with scars
on wings she sailed on voices of silence the melody
had kissed the moon in night without veil it was
dark night for blue hills they killed a bloom
of white jasmines why are you upset my love
she has gone on orange wheels towards the sun
the black sea mourns by throwing the wreaths
back on shore to protect the virginity of fishes
and waves a bleeding god disowns
the green earth
Satish Verma
Joe Breunig, 19 september 2013
While seconds quietly and quickly elapse
under the consistent control of Time’s arrow,
the evil forebodings of Dread and vague fears
continue to lurk within Life’s long shadows.
Despite the existence of potential problems,
choose to disregard the negativity of fear.
Knowing that we are more than a conqueror,
charge forward under a Faith-filled atmosphere.
Approach the day with enthusiasm and expectation
that God continues to honor His Biblical Word.
Regardless of events, He will take care of His own;
look within to have your spiritual confidence stirred.
Speak holy words against the day’s difficulties.
Life’s worrisome ambiguities are sufficient for the day;
allow the Peace of Christ to supremely reign in your heart,
knowing that He eternally remains… the Life, Truth and Way.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Matt 6:25-34, 11:28-30; Prov 15:15; Rom 8:32;
Psa 23:4, 55:22; Num 23:19; Col 3:15; John 14:6
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.
Poetry
Prose
Photography
Graphics
Video poems
Postcards
Diary
Books
Handmade
