Milena Sušnik Falle, 13 july 2013
To jutro
odsevajo v meni,
kakor v rosni travi,
prozorni kristali neke čutnosti.
Dan bo zanesljivo dolg.
Svetloba ni barve
tvojih oči,
zbledela bo
za vrati noči.
V tem jutru
potujem
nasproti mrakobnim potezam
večera.
Dan bo zanesljivo dolg.
Na grudih jutra
poseda zaslepljenost časa,
negotovost kljuva,
pričakujočo puščobo dneva.
Milena Sušnik Falle - Slovenija
(pesniška zbirka Prozorni kristali jutra)
Milena Sušnik Falle, 13 july 2013
Pozno je.
Kar je ostalo
od enoličnega večera
niha
v noč –
otožno
krute
so stvari
ob meni.
Polnočnost
se ziba v tišini –
turobno nebo
neslišno odpečava
drobne kaplje
dežja.
Bedim.
V krču noči
med vrelci stiske
po tirnicah bolečine
proti vstajenju
deževnega jutra
drsim.
Milena Sušnik Falle - Slovenija
(pesniška zbirka Prozorni kristali jutra)
Satish Verma, 13 july 2013
coming out of the frame,
in evening without a sun, unflinchingly,
he said, he was talking to his father
daily, in his mind, who was in grave,
(when he was on ventilator)
about a lesson of deception, about the things
evolved in endogamy,
cherubic, it seems, but there was water on the moon too,
in solitude, on gravel, under the rocks;
he kept on washing his hands for hours,
to remove the dirt and stigma, gathered on shaking
the lamps around the dark and then he started
collecting the flowers from the embroidery
of clouds
do not cry in the afternoon
Satish Verma
Bron Dayvid, 12 july 2013
At the core of poverty lies a thick quilt of malice
Embroidered in greed
And fabricated promises
Stitched by the tailor and seamstress
Whose hands,
callused and bruised by years of depression ,oppression and
Intermediate progression, thwarted by "inadvertent" regression,
threads the very needle that severs their souls and punctures their spirits
It is Unbeknownst to the tailor and seamstress that the very quilt they sew, once completed, will wrap itself around their throats, deplete their life's earnings, and render them lifeless
The tailor and seamstress, broken, aged and afflicted with angst, will be said to have had self-inflicted wounds when they discover their bodies
Investigations will find no objecting evidence
Their families will mourn
Their bodies will be buried
But the quilt
The smothering life absorbing quilt
Will continue to be threaded ,stitched, and patched
Bron Dayvid, 12 july 2013
The greatest honor that any artist can receive for a piece of art is to have it render its spectators absolutely speechless
In doing so any artist has done one of two extremes
The artist has either created such a masterpiece that's its transcendent beauty and otherworldliness leaves even the most astute critic devoid of thought
The grandeur of this work of art is so intense that once observed
Its image is burned into the soul of viewer like a brand to an unsuspicious calf
"Genius!" they'll yell prematurely
And whatever other words they can find to calculate and depreciate the value of the art
Or the contrary
The artist could have created something so unworldly something so sullied something so appalling and mindless that the neat pompous critics simply brush it away as if not to get a spec of dirt on their lavish sports coats
Breathless as in not worth a single gasp of air
Speechless as if unworthy of diction
And yet this is still an honor for any artist
For in their ignorance in their incompetence is complete silence
The stillness necessary for true beauty to speak for itself
POEWHIT, 12 july 2013
Beyond all.
Earth just a ball.
We are so small.
Yet - God loves all.
We pray to call.
God knows our hall.
Help from a ball.
Wait till next fall.
7/2013 POEWHIT
JESUS SAVES
Gert Strydom, 12 july 2013
When I bring you a flower
from our garden,
then you do smile radiating like the sun,
while for moments
you are astounded by the beauty
and you do draw a picture for me
where you lie naked
stretched out in the sheets
and I wish that I could somehow
catch your beauty in a verse,
your hair that hangs in locks,
your smile that goes through all of my barricades
but my words are only wandering around
as if they have got nowhere to go.
Gert Strydom, 12 july 2013
At a time in loving kindness you smiled merrily
but now you do not act that way and are not so
and it’s as if you think I want your life to overthrow
and now it’s as if you do not even regard me
and this is not the way that I want you to be
and at times some of your tears do flow
and sometimes away I want to go
but without you I am never really free
and are desperate among men
and you are in my heart wherever I might dwell
and when I am away I really miss you then
and this is what happens to you as well
and if this is not how real love is,
then I have never known its depths and its bliss.
Gert Strydom, 12 july 2013
The sparkle in your smile
fall like morning dew,
the shining of your eyes beguile
the toil that is waiting fresh and new,
but had you charmed me
at early morning light
from work we would be free
until the darkness of night.
Talat Jehan, 11 july 2013
The one he likes..The one he wants to be with..Just to spend some time..
Those few moments he would never forget..But only If he gets a singe chance or even a glimpse..
It seems difficult..But not impossible..
He fell in love with that voice, that beautiful voice..The way she speaks, is like a fresh and gentle breeze..
Voice that makes him alive everytime..He loves her loyalty and trust, even for someone else..
He respects her more because of her honesty..She must be a beautiful person..
An internally beautiful and delicate person which can enlighten his whole world.
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