Satish Verma, 28 august 2013
a kiss
on lips, returns with a blunt style,
in perfumed demeanor!
i did not hear
with absolute eyes, a captive
in chained feet, for self-defence;
all the shades of red
were walking on ocean,
a black skull glides:
the night fills in pores-
the gale, kills the black bucks,
poachers were on run!
in telling, the wizard
entices, you will never know
full toll of civil war:
he turns down a gift of speech;
words and whistles were surreal echoes
and I see a sword like nose
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 27 august 2013
Lord, when even for a month
I do not see the sun,
when the Cape’s winter rain sieves down
as if it can last months long,
when it looks as if the sun
is totally absent,
when the winds even pull down oak trees
then I know that Your love is present,
that where around the fireplace
I find a little bit of comfort
with my loved ones
You are also a visitor.
Gert Strydom, 27 august 2013
I see the sun setting in the west
and lingering is the Sabbath rest
and of all the days in the week
I do love the day of the Lord the best
as there is something that it does possess
and on this day all of my worries become less
while a kind of tranquillity stays with me
and from God’s law I will not digress
as holy is His sacred day
and any other day may be as it may
but this one with my life I will sanctify
and in the rest I will work and play
and I do know that God does visit me
on the day that He deems holy.
Gert Strydom, 27 august 2013
(with apologies to J.M. Synge)
Lord, protect this sister and any visiting mister
enlighten her brow and let her know nothing sinister
protect her heart, lung and liver and never make her shiver
and in her guts, in her soul a calling give her.
Let her live with free delivered dinners
at a holiday resort as a saint among sinners:
Lord, Your blessings give
and she will surely delightfully live.
[Reference: To A Sister Of An Enemy Of The Author Who Disapproved of The Playboy by J.M. Synge.]
Satish Verma, 27 august 2013
i make ready myself for an insult
and chest pain, keeping unshorn hair like nettles
on contours, to take unknown turns for restoring
the clouds on moon-blue hills, spreading the water colors
on trees; someone inside the shrine was making
turbulence: yellow room has the footprints of
a naked fakir, after the apocalypse, who walked eyes closed
on the burning ghats, his rags are now worshipped,
the later years found the darkness
glowing in the furnace of propped up body
by roses, roses all the way, he tells the
hanging man, how tall were the poles, with song
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 26 august 2013
You follow the rising yellow hot sun,
that ball of fire,
since the very birth of passing time
as a desire
to be in reverent worship of it
while men aspire
to shine in a way and reach for the stars,
to break this world’s clasping retaining bars.
Gert Strydom, 26 august 2013
A tree that welcomes the summer sun,
the wind and rain
stands with its arms reaching into the sky,
it blooms again
during the new spring, in summer has fruit,
knows joy and pain
as it shadow and shelter stays each day
while some children and birds does in it play.
Gert Strydom, 26 august 2013
From the very moment that it swells out
birds do gather,
watching somewhat keen at the ripening,
they do twitter
fly to and fro and in happiness
then eat it to the very skin.
Satish Verma, 26 august 2013
not enough
howls of tormented birth
under a homeless roof, arresting the light,
a bleed from the pungent breast,
you lost the marriage with marigold,
to be grave purple eyed, missils killing
the shrieks, i let a paperweight
sit on the vessels and stop a free run of black
blood from nipples: dawn, it was far
away, the goddess inhailing earth's ice
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 25 august 2013
The peace has a random price;
buried by sea of volition in knee deep puddles of
saline mud, being in being, after the crash,
to keep dissent alive.
Tell me, how did you go in arc light
in the middle of death, plunged in icy delights
of bloody waters? Prevailing withdrawl
spills the counts in endless moments,
of permanence and deceit, a face was
present at one time in two canvases;
the despondency was victorious in kelp,
of arboreal moon, night drips orally.
When the future comes in nesting birds,
I will search the eggs of cuckoo, before
I know you again; the venus-fly trap for hidden
kiss will open the honey glands.
Satish Verma
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