Satish Verma, 29 april 2013
You start abbreviating the pretention,
caring for the end of a perennial revenge
of slain truth, finding depth in arguments
which will spawn more violence.
Come my friend, come. Sit with me.
Let us search together the solitary
death in living past. Ultimate space was
a great deception of the eternal silence.
Clayey mood again depicts the pain
between your moons. I go for a play in dust
of time. The beats of heart will not wear
a sword now.
One hope finds a moon-belt on the hills
where the shadows walk with stars.
I will wait for the sun to rise.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 28 april 2013
Homecoming under the moon
devoid of pain.
When did the clock turned back?
You are becoming a child.
My journey opens
in a dark wound.
A promise to walk blindfolded,
when only the footfalls are audible.
The distance between the homes
was increasing.
Your own shadow becomes a stranger:
mystery of defining the life.
Living among cannibals,
aides ready to drag your carcass
unfolding your truth
falling in dust.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 27 april 2013
A pristine smoke was pointing
the where of pawns
abetting the glacial runaway.
Emblemic,
he was the last man on the stairs
ready to jump in the lake
when night arrives.
Now this was the tipping point
to stand erect
where the tongue was wasting away,
The death staged a drama
of a feel up of young buds
in a virgin garden.
The key breaks the lock
and darkness prevails.
Satish Verma
Kahlia Mazacalletti, 26 april 2013
I thought I would miss you; I don't anymore
You left me with no choice but to get over it all
Thank you for not making my life harder
With all your twists and turns
I could feel it slipping away; you wanted it that way
I thought I knew the meaning of a good friend
I was so wrong; you hate yourself
But, I will never hate me; I don't hate you
You have hurt me for the first and last time
With your lies and misery; go by yourself to some other land
I waited for you to call, you did once-That shocked me
So, now in a 24 hour period, you have no time for me?
My watch has not broken and I know what time it is
Time for you to fool someone else..........
Goodbye.....................
Gert Strydom, 26 april 2013
It’s the last part of summer
and the day is hot and bright,
cloudless with a perfect clear blue sky
after days of drenching rain
while I can smell the fragrances
of frying tomato, green and red peppers,
spring onions, chili and some pasta
from the kitchen
while the radio on the table
plays a song by Eros Ramazzotti.
She talks about hot summers
inTuscany,Normandy
and about theRivierainFrance
of which the song reminds her.
I ask her if she had holidayed there
or if she still want to go to visit
and she tells me that she is dreaming
about a holiday along the French coast
and of visitingItaly, about wandering
in fields full of lavender
and of painting theEiffelTower
andParisafter dark.
The sun is still scorching outside
and on the walls pots full of gardenias flower
as if it’s the beginning of spring
while a swarm of sparrows, weavers
and some doves peck up the seed
that was scattered for them on the grass
and I can feel her soft body against mine
as she embraces me from behind
and when I turn around to kiss her
the moment lingers
and it feels as if this summer
can last forever.
Gert Strydom, 26 april 2013
The paintings of a jar of roses,
with a touch of Picasso,
the sunflowers like those of Van Gogh
some cosmos that looks almost waxen in a pot
are on the walls of our bedroom
and red roses in a glass vase
brave it through the last days of summer
while some are withering
and have dropped a few of their petals.
The lamp above the bed draws lines
against the wall and the ceiling
while another burns in the long corridor
while our clothes and underwear lay scattered
like some of the leaves outside
next to the bed.
The curtains are drawn open,
and bushes of roses, some shrubs,
a tree or two and flowers on long stems
cordon the street off
and the night smells of falling rain,
of the promise of new life
when you lay right against me
and I truly know that you do love me
and a tremendous lightning bolt slams down
in the front of the garden
and explodes in blue-white thunder
and we can smell the scorched earth,
can smell electricity
while in the backyard
the two dogs howl and cry
in fear and terror
and outside the whole world can fall apart
but here it’s only you and me.
Satish Verma, 26 april 2013
Ignite the barren clay, I need
some rare elements
to tie a thread to the moon.
Upstaging the sun.
Not aspirational he was stripped
to become radical
like the dark blood of a white soul.
Pentadactylous was losing the big toes
under the burning skies
of unmindful eyes. The system
was collapsing. One premature
innocence dies defore the guilt
was proved, in the howling night of terror.
He unrolls the thighs to show the stitched
corn. The seeds step out to prove
the adolescence of crime.
Satish Verma
Joe Breunig, 25 april 2013
My desire is to be reflective
of the divine perspective
that highly exalts only Him,
throughout my being and my limbs.
A revelation of Christ’s Truth
is that He’s my fountain of youth.
I’m grafted into His true vine
that overflows with spiritual wine.
For more of Him and less of me
is the way that it needs to be;
O my Lord, please…
allow my faith to be fully employed,
whereby my ego is… d’stroy’d!
I’ve dropped Abraham’s knife
since I’ve got eternal life;
holy blood was previously shed
and I’m bound by His scarlet thread.
From this frail humanity of me
Let my life shine with victory,
for You Lord, keep me on course…
being my strength and true source.
For more of Him and less of me
is the way that it needs to be;
O my Lord, please…
allow my faith to be fully employed,
whereby my ego is… (completely) d’stroy’d!
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Acts 17:28
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.
Joe Breunig, 25 april 2013
With daily renewing of the mind,
one is bound to learn and find
ideas for personal resolutions
that lead to a Kingdom solution.
Having Godly ideals and attitudes,
is more than possessing platitudes.
It’s about one’s choices and lifestyle
that leads to a life being worthwhile.
To be a true child of God,
one must have His Love shed abroad
and present in one’s actions
to obtain spiritual satisfaction.
For faith is not about power and earnings,
but one’s ability for… principled learning.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:Rom 12:1-8
Learn more about me and my poetry at:http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.
Gert Strydom, 25 april 2013
Sometimes there were days when the sun
hang hot in the summer afternoon
while carefree we could lay next to each other
with the fragrances of jasmine, gardenia
and lavender swishing in on the hot wind.
Sometimes there were days where we could hear
turtle-doves cooing in the great old acacia tree,
how the wind chimes on the porch
jollily played the refrain of the wind
when we lay together and looked at each other.
Sometimes there were days that your fingers
were in mine pressing my hand on your breast
while your auburn hair (sometimes naturally blond) were spread over my chest,
while you looked with the fire of passion moments long at me
before gently for an eternity we melted into each other.
Sometimes there were days when thunderbolts came down outside,
when scared the dogs fled into the house
when we could smell the rain
could see how the wild wind goes jerking through the rose trees
but over us a peaceful rainbow kept hanging.
Tranquillity, a deeper kind of rest was everywhere
and the garden was beautiful like Eden,
the noise of the city was somewhere far away
and when you loved me with all of your love
moments and days were happy, good and right.
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