Blossom Sol, 21 march 2013
Oh please do not let me forget who you are,
your face
lingering in my hollow eyes
that created barriers of glass
for the return of your barbaric ways
to crucify all that is left
of so called emotion.
Lesson number one,
do not feel anything.
When you have reached the stage of not feeling anything,
perhaps you could go down one of two paths:
1. become a psychopath
2. become a normal person of society.
Usually people of some importance in their towns merge between the two, the rest borderline on unwillingful self destruction but due to their innocence, carry on in a some what sublime happiness, although so their photos on the internet seem to express.
And so here is my poem for you to actually address.
God bless us, bless us
all big and small
and may he see
what a beautiful creation we all are
for we have forgotten
and we are not allowed to recall
no we have placed our souls away
and stand firm on an invisible mans stall
no fear
no love
no down below or above
no nothing.
nothing.
nothing
nothing.
So are we all content with our success?
finally we can keep the secrets at rest.
I thank you for musing me
with your observations.
Who am I today?
I shall wait for you tell me.
And i shall wait for you all to tell me my next move.
So smooth your heart beats with the rhythm of nothingness.
Soon i will be on the same line,
an emotionless carcass, dead and blind
trampling in the foot steps
of all the great others
the ones before
the leaders
who are dead.
No leaders live today.
So all we can do is pray.
pray that something out there has heard our cries
like islam tries
five times a day
For when all we are left with is nothing
all we have left is the will to pray.
HIP HIP HORRAY!!!!!!!!
Steven Croat, 21 march 2013
Give me one more chance!
I would like to dance.
Don't break me more!
I am on the floor...
I want a new start
deep in my true heart!
Stay a little longer,
Don't leave me alone!Girl!
I just look back.
I can't stand your lack!
Please don't lie,
Never say goodbye!
These are the news...
I don't want to lose.
I really love you!
What more can I do?
/To T.L./
Joe Breunig, 21 march 2013
Have you envisioned
our Lord upon The Cross?
Have you seen
those considered lost?
Did you notice
the absence of Grace?
Did you observe
tears staining His face?
Can you imagine
the agony of His pain?
Have you accepted the Gift
of the Lamb that was slain?
On that day of crucifixion
Love was brokenhearted
and divine reconciliation
was quietly started.
Christ mourned the souls
who chose the path of rejection
and was sadden by their ignorance
of His personally offered Salvation.
Days before Resurrection Sunday
the silent tears of Christ fell,
having glimpsed the future in which…
numerous souls were separated by hell.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Matt 26-27; Luke 23; Mark 15; John 18-19; 1 Cor 1:23
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
Joe Breunig, 21 march 2013
O Lord, I have purposed in my spirit
to sing of Your greatness and mercy!
Before You I humbly bow and kneel;
with my tongue, I exalt only Thee!
The enemy constantly surrounds me;
my joy they look to slyly steal.
You are my Maker and I’m the clay,
previously molded upon Thy Potter’s wheel.
Since Your words drip from my heart,
no longer can I remain silent.
Use me to write this poetry, filled…
with messages that are “heaven sent”.
Stand mightily over this blue planet,
let Your shadow cover this globe;
remind everyone of Your Presence;
clothe Your people with ecclesiastical robes.
Being one of Your Children, I too serve You,
as a sanctified priest of Your holy nation.
Knowing that my identity is found in You,
I’ll never consider yielding… my determination.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Psa 23, 57; Jer 18:6; Isa 61:10, 64:8
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
Talat Jehan, 20 march 2013
Slave of my own memories...
Memories, those moments which took me some where in skies..
the space from where I don't want to return..
But sometimes I thought these memories doesn't exist, it's just a
illusion..
An illusion which is taking me far away from the reality..
A reality a vague reality.
Talat Jehan, 20 march 2013
Eyes, those beautiful eyes..
Those illuminating and sparkling eyes, shining like a full moon in the sky..
All I want is to see and read those beautiful eyes, but the irony is I can’t..
Its seems like there are hidden treasure in those eyes..
But sadly they are just the pearls in those eyes..
Gert Strydom, 20 march 2013
A covering darkness of blanket blackness
with loneliness and no feelings to express
while rain sieves down for days without end;
in this winter it’s as if my life is spent.
The nights are chilly with an icy wind
searching for something that it cannot find,
as if the presence of death still is recent;
in this winter it’s as if my life is spent.
Gert Strydom, 20 march 2013
With all of the dark painful urges
you do come as my greatest longing
while we are cut-off by misunderstandings
in the twisting walls of a labyrinth
and it’s as if doors are continually slamming in my face,
as if time and again you want to walk out of my life
and sometimes I do search earnestly for liberation
out of this continuous imprisonment
and our feelings so intense and intimate
force my life and heart back to you
and I have got to deviate from a healthy balance,
again do start with my misconceptions and wandering
and without an end I do love you.
Gert Strydom, 20 march 2013
I have experienced seasons passing,
heard shells whistle, rockets soar and bullets sing
saw people perish, felt the icy winter chill
was in a war forced to shoot to kill
and at times life drags on so very slow,
at times myself I did not anymore know
but still I trusted God through everything,
trusted your love like an awakening spring.
Satish Verma, 20 march 2013
Asphyxiated by curled hands.
Punishment for tainted moon,
it has floated down to
darker side of continence.
You push the body in wall,
Coal burns in the eyes.
The shadow at last, leaves the body.
The high priest, goes for the copyright
and nerves explode in the books for
annular bulge of pride.
A simile was needed for a grain of sand
by cutting your wrists
and pouring the blood on the knives.
Satish Verma
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