Gert Strydom, 18 february 2013
If like Roy Campbell
I could let thunder
flame red out of my words
and with truth
striking like a cobra
could paralyse the guilty ones
no baboon would have to salute
the rising moon
or Shaka would not have to rise
from the dead,
as my words would show direction
with magical power of their own.
Let every thing that I write
not only struck the mark,
but be the conscience
of this country
and stay behind
as a part of me
and let the ones that read my poems
be swept along
into a own world
and give big power
to the words that I leave behind,
that with time
my words become exceptional.
{References: Far be the bookish muses! and To a pet cobra by Roy Campbell.]
Satish Verma, 18 february 2013
Silently you went to disappear in blue-
alone or unalone -
I was watching a moth
on the burning lamp in night way
scrawled flat as death’s signature
on the heap of broken wings,
between space and time
an extra dimension,
the position of a point from void to
center of chaos,
life extracts the measurement,
a smile lost the lips
a vision, eyes –
outside body, the soul scribbles
mist and crumbs of age.
Satish Verma
louis gander, 17 february 2013
(from a woman's perspective...)
Damp were the petals, kissed by the dew,
on bright, vibrant rose held up for my view -
from soft velvet fingers and unweathered skin
from one faithful heart full of true love within.
The rose was exquisite, so perfect to see -
with flower now open so beau-ti-ful-ly.
It seemed to rest easy on leaves of bright green -
(if now, you could only imagine the scene).
Behind that great gift was another one too -
who whispered poetically, "Oh, how I love you!"
It floated from voice so familiar to me
that stopped my whole world - instantly, briefly.
He caught me off-guard and I must concede
that inside his heart was a great love indeed.
For there behind raised arm, so patient and mild -
I saw the cute face of my very own child.
Reached, I there down - and speaking in prose,
I said, "Thank you child." accepting the rose.
And then to the side, I gave curtain a push -
and sure enough missing, my rose from rose bush.
But forced I a smile and gave him a kiss -
for this is one day that I'll soon reminisce.
His innocent countenance had drawn me to pray,
"Thank you, dear Lord, for my child today."
©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
-------
Insatiable Sohail, 17 february 2013
Eternal peace rains on me
By your presence.
Your lively looks; smiling face;
Luster and beauty of eyes
With a sprightly mind
Are the food for my life.
I always find an existence
Within your love,
Within your smiling face.
Because you are the centre
Of my all attraction.
I’m a ship on water
Unable to reach my destination
Without your presence.
I’m a bird without identity
Looking for shelter within your love.
Anywhere I go
Carry you always in my heart.
Tears roll down on my cheeks
For the fear of losing you
Being a sunlight in my heart
You’ll never go away.
In the voice of my heart
Your smiling sound always echoes.
You’ve come only for me
And make my new world.
cauchy3, 17 february 2013
Fear my dirt..
Fear my dirt. However rather fear our bureaucrat. Merely who is petty official? Hong Kong official arrays take the means of Hong Kong highest classes and or some other even take the china highest classes. ` Says about the poll among a little group for Hong Kong executive official selection about year 2013 there arenot good fames. There were two applied candidates wait for candid poll. One is HONG KONG Tom YIN LING. Who may gain the welcomes just for many HONG- KONG official staffs,. Grant for supports of HONG KONG bureaucracy.
Second is LEUNG JAN YEE who may grant the welcome men from china sides. Both of them did fight and struggle well by scandals. Ugly features always followed. Winner that obtained the C.E.O is LEUNG JAN YEE. All beside the success Leung had his henchman LAUD MON HON was accused by HONG KONG C.I.A.-anti corruption department. Latter LAUD send a letter to new HONG KONG CEO his boss asked he to stop the investigations.
At the same periods the other candidate TOM YIN LING family was going to being accused for illegal building parts that built in TOM cottage home. . His penalty could be put to jail for three years. So fear my dirt or fear about Bureaucrat.
Among a letter that LAUD MON HON send to the new HONG KONG C.E.O that is LAUD boss and friend, LAUD asked LEUNG JAN YIN stop the C.I.A anti corruption department for going further. LAUD declared that he was friends of China ex-premier LEE PON sons buddy. The name of LEE PON son is LEE SHI PON. LAUD MON HON had also mentioned that LEE SHI PON had for his pass records did help LAUD quite well. Those were official maters. So fear my dirt or fear about CHINA or HONG KONG bureaucrat.
------------Cheung Shun Sang=Cauchy3-----------
.
.
Satish Verma, 17 february 2013
Insane
I turn around
an amputee
to live, for not living
fighting the inner war
speared,
lacerated,
like neanderthal in cave
my weapon
the serrated moon
cried in fluted dark
a glimpse of bare bones
the ash of a bleeding dawn
my shuttered courage
in urn
there was only one evening
Satish Verma
TOUFIQ UL ALAM, 17 february 2013
It has been hours, days or, weeks, Perhaps?
Since my Last page has been turned,
Felt the last touch of Love,
Tender.
I remember those intense moments,
When we were together.
Heavy breaths; foaming sobs;
Or, happy laughters.
It has been months....or, years, perhaps?
Since you looked back,
held me with you hands,
Kissed me.
Silly Me! I am a book lying,
Like many others,
I have been read.
I tend to forget,
That I have nothing new to offer.
My stories, or, poems,
Are matters of the past now.
They don't excite you anymore.
So, it has been years, or, decade, perhaps?
Since, you came,
And dusted me.
Worms are eating me alive,
yet, It has been generations... I presume?
Since you have come,
To salvage me last,
From my utter despiration.
Silly Me! I tend to forget,
I have nothing new to offer.
So, It has been a century, or, two, perhaps?
Since, a lover came,
To read me anew.
Kahlia Mazacalletti, 16 february 2013
He loved her green eyes; they told him so much
Her wild and tameless hair blowing in the wind
Will it ever stop, he wondered, that unbrideled spirit she has?
Her long muscular, but lean legs, her tempting rosy, red lips
He longed for her, he ached for her; she was unique
Like a wild animal; she growled a little moan at times
She was always thinking of new and interesting things to do
And ways to do them........it made him crazy
He dreamt of her in his sleep; he dreamt of her while he was awake
Her perfectly poreless skin; so soft like a babies
He loved her so; did she know it, or was his imagination running wild
He could only see things in her green eyes
We all covet things we cannot have ; things we want so badly
But she was different, living next door was so hard
Seeing her daily, it was like a job
So, until he could find the words ; he would have to just look at her
Beautiuful sparkling Green Eyes........
TOUFIQ UL ALAM, 16 february 2013
Sitting solitary,
On my old and wooden rocking chair,
I peek through the window,
To my long lost,
Phantom past.
Flashbacks waft in,
With the gentle Southerlies,
To repaint the whitewashed canvas,
Of my age old memory.
Is that infancy?
Perhaps of boyhood?
Nothing seems clear.
Just a feeling of a tender touch,
a sense of harbor,
warms my heart.
I sit on my age old wooden rocking chair,
Peeking through the window,
Into the placid blue sky.
I see moulds of my memory,
in the white soft clouds.
Did I tell you? It was the beginning of summer!
The northwester comes and goes,
And draws the images of my by gone days,
With the brush of gusty wind.
Was the storm real?
Or, was it my peaceful mind,
Throwing a sudden frightful tantrum?
I can hardly fathom.
My turbulent present,
Mocks me,
As I reminisce,
Through my misty past,
To find a tint of gold,
As a clue to a blessed future.
Sitting solitary,
On my old and wooden rocking chair,
I peek through the window,
To my long lost,
Phantom past.
Insatiable Sohail, 16 february 2013
With a frisson of delight
Lost in evanescent reminiscences,
My tarnished mirror-like imaginations
Makes me feel a citizen of somewhere else .
Through reiteration of happy infancy,
Recalcitrant childhood attitude,
An inner incentive intermingled with
Recollections of subsequent life,
Illuminates the interior of my dusky mirror.
All on a sudden I woke up from
Total oblivious existence of mine.
In a fix what to do……
Is it a dream or hallucination
Or the ghost of my drowsy inspiration ?
Trying to eternalize it
From the cluster of obliteration,
I’m giving it a re-birth
In a sheet of foolscap with the blood of pen.
Whatever it may be…
My first impulse to recapture past,
Like an impulse of motherly affection
Haunts me every now and then.
Poetry
Prose
Photography
Graphics
Video poems
Postcards
Diary
Books
Handmade
