Gert Strydom, 11 march 2013
(after Johann Johl)
We drive along the Kolkhoz road
where it passes near to an old battlefield
of the third German empire
of which nobody now bears any knowledge.
Its already spring and in the wood
some blossoms are appearing
and here and there
wild flowers grow next to the dust track
which are slushy from the mud
and we slide and slide
almost like on a rally track
until the road ends at the datja
where we want to spend the weekend.
We hear a black Eurasian woodpecker
knocking tick-tock against some trees
with the sound resounding right through the wood
as if he wants to signal
an unknown message to us.
The bush looks like something
out of the Baba-Jaga witch tale
and while Tanja tells me
about that evil cannibal
it’s as if somebody walks over my grave
and the hairs of both my arms rise
but I view it as coming from the chill.
Like peasants we stop
and look at the scene,
breath in the fresh air
and see how our boots
leave tracks on the loam.
Quickly we carry our baggage into the dwelling
and Tanja’s face is blushing
when we walk through the wood
where I am picking some wild flowers for her
and her smile is far past lovely
and her braided hair
swishes cheeky to and thro.
She carries a basket and we walk
from berry bush to berry bush
to fill it with brambles
that grow everywhere around us
and the woodpecker knocks out its signal
even louder and louder
as if his messages is becoming more urgent
but still we are not able to decipher it.
The Marconi-bird
suddenly flies past screaming,
knowing that his warning
is not regarded
and it’s black with a red crown.
Tanja walks in advance
to the next bramble bush
is looking picture perfect with her blue eyes
which are shining brightly
when a German landmine
suddenly becomes alive beneath her
and the crackling explosion
of sunken scrap-iron
spreads her much higher
than the birch trees.
[Reference: Bostelegraaf (Bush telegraph) by Johann Johl. Kolkhoz: Community farm. Black Eurasian woodpecker: Dryacopus martius. Datja: Russian holiday home. Baba-Jaga: Russian cannibal witch.]
David Joel Rodriguez, 11 march 2013
...Faced up, thinking about every image that happily flowed...
These conniving skies were the eyes of my dreary night.
Somewhat cloaked to void my soul on this magical delight.
Indefinite thoughts juggled their way every which a way.
What force drove this decision to make me think 'halfway?'
Just like most, most will not say a word about their doin
Like who or what gives a damn or how they're improving
The heart races everyday wondering who will except...
Who will slow down the antsy need of 'the needy duet'
...I face forward, thinking about the life I have ahead of me...
So, now that I was at the edge and close enough to see
The mist had disappeared so that I could face my reality
The edge taunts me as winds blow melodies in my ear
Mist lingers with rising gusts as my head begins to clear
Gradually, do I begin to appendage where I really am
But what can I do, when everywhere... is only a scam
...Then I faced down, nodding...thinking to give it another try...
I faced space, envisioning those I'd rather see by my side
Not even my End could flicker their appearance as I sigh
So, now that I was at the edge with enough edge to see
Where were my friends when I needed them next to me
...Facing everywhere, eyes closed, "oh well what the hell..."
...My body remained, indulged in everyone's emptiness...
...My mind exampled, derailing off this cliff of sorrowfulness...
©2011
David Joel Rodriguez
David Joel Rodriguez, 11 march 2013
"...And I have yet to be embraced by your aura
knowing I am the smeared soul of your society
But I only think like that because of how you look at me
Like a speck on your poplin only to brush it off in disgust
How can I feel you when I know you are never going to be there?
Why do I admire empty space when your matter isn't going to fill it?
Wherever I roam free, I seem to sense you around the way
Always looking to turn around only to see a fading silhouette..."
©2011
David Joel Rodriguez
Satish Verma, 11 march 2013
A detritus
of malaise, tugs at my solitary hour.
There was a question of stature
amongst the old fractured feet.
What was it which made you feel
taller than your own son?
I was looking at the antlers of a deer,
his round eyes were full of pallor,
I begin to talk in his tongue.
The terror of a man, a speeding car,
my childhood, moving in the dark corridor,
afraid of the unending highways.
Satish Verma
Blossom Sol, 11 march 2013
Here it comes again -
Rushing into
Pagan red
Curtains
Of a breath swaying
Autonomous
Life.
The blood of my body
Is not my own -
It has been sacrificed,
Long ago.
And so we dream on
In endless portals.
Waiting for the return
Of a saviour,
Who is yet to save
A planet,
That is yet to want help.
mvvenkataraman, 10 march 2013
Please be happy my dear
Fill your mind with cheer
Before God shed your tear
Your words, let Him hear
Your doubts, He will clear
He will remove your fear
Your life, make Him steer
He is there, here, very near
Occupying the atmosphere
Having opened his ear
Though he won't appear
He will make living easier
Your personal life or career
He is the actual carrier
He will take away barrier
mvvenkataraman
Kahlia Mazacalletti, 10 march 2013
Be yourself in all things you do.
You are fortunate to be alive
After all the things that you have done to me.....
Hatred and contempt over cloud your judgement and at times you take it out on me.
Why must you be so stubborn and emotionally abusive to me
Did I not say I would stick by you til the end?
I have kept my promise but you treat me like a bag of dirt
Use some then throw it all away.
I loved you once but now the flowers are in bloom and I haven't enough time to weigh in on my feelings.
Love is blind but you read braille............get it?
I just want you to know I have no afternoon agenda here.
So please leave out the same door you came in and do it peacefully.
Maybe, I sound harsh but I have told you in so many ways...I do not love you anymore
So you end your own life and I am left to pick up all the puzzle pieces.
It is called hurt...........
Kahlia Mazacalletti, 10 march 2013
The world breaks everyone and afterwards, they are stong at the broken places.........E. Hemingway
Love everyone-the alcoholics, the drug addicted, people living on the street.
For they are also you Mothers and Fathers, sisters and brothers, aunts and uncles.......
Love all people of every color; for color sees no color and You see color.
Love those who despise you; for they hate themselves and the world they live in.......
Love thy neighbor, for you may need their kindness and they may need yours..........
Love everyone; for you are God's child
The Lord came to us saying "I have loved you with a love that lasts forever. So I have helped you to come to me with loving kindness" Jeremiah 31:3
Benjamin Dale Carver, 9 march 2013
As fast as cheetah
As strong as a bear
As tall as a mountain
As stiff as a chair
As flat as a pancake
As quick as a hare
As embarrassed as a guy in his underwear
Benjamin Dale Carver, 9 march 2013
Thank you Veteran guys;
You go to war and save our lives.
You save our country from
people that are bad!
And if you all got killed,
we would be really sad.
Airplane, canons, bombs, and guns,
you used them all when the fight begun.
You saved our lives many times,
so here's a thank you note that rhymes.
Thank you fighters a million times! !
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