Naykd Poet, 2 february 2013
What can I say that’s not been said before?
I know I need to be strong to walk out that door,
You may think it’s my way to even the score,
But truth: it’s because I can’t love you more.
When we first met, I sensed you were the One,
We laughed, we cried, we seemed to have fun,
But now, now that the hurting is done,
The time for me to leave has sadly come.
Your beauty, to my memory, is forever etched.
What we once had together, I’ll never forget
But, no longer can the pain, my heart be the subject,
Still, leaving you I know, I’ll always feel regret.
Naykd Poet, 2 february 2013
I have been more then expressive, speaking from the heart,
All but a few mental words is needed to give a start,
To convey meaning to a message, an emotional spark,
To its reader; my intent being, more than just a lark.
Accolade or attention is not the purpose of desire,
Simply, it’s the earnest intent by words, to inspire,
To garner an expressive response that does fuel my fire,
To give meaning to all I do, rather then from it, reitre.
Geetima Baruah Sarma, 2 february 2013
Located in Tinsukia district of Assam,
In the north-eastern part of India,
The town stands with pride
As it has the first refinery in Asia.
During the nineteenth century,
While a railway track was being laid,
Crude oil was accidently discovered
And the place got its name, it’s said.
“Dig boy dig” were the words,
When the first oil well was dug,
Digboi still remains unique
As it has the oldest producing Oil Park.
[Published in the souvenir 'Yuletide Jamboree' at Digboi Club Annual Meet held from 18 to 25 December 2011]
louis gander, 2 february 2013
The sun was rising in the east
behind some hitching posts -
and weathered boards, on buildings old,
had nothing left to boast.
But I wore fancy cowboy duds,
I was a handsome sight.
A crowd of people gathered 'round
to watch this old gun fight.
The street was dead and empty
except for sin and I -
and how I ended up out here,
I'm really not sure why.
A bullet? Very perilous
if we've no self-control -
and sin is much more dangerous,
because it kills the soul.
Now noon met with humidity.
The sun was dry and hot.
Some beads of sweat rolled down my face -
my stomach, in a knot.
But no, I wasn't nervous -
though duel had begun.
I counted out ten paces -
then turned and drew my gun.
But sin is faster, furious -
much quicker than the eye.
Oh please! Dear Lord and Saviour -
I do not want to die!
And then... in just an instant,
I dropped down to my knees.
I fell as peace passed over me
and felt the gentle breeze.
But something stood in front of me.
Its shadow crossed my face.
I then saw Jesus on that cross.
He took my very place.
Ashamed, I dropped my pistol.
My pride was killed that day -
as I pulled off my fancy boots
and flung my hat away.
Now humbled on the dusty street
with crowded eyes on me -
my every pride had vanished as
I learned humility.
In faithfulness, I stood again,
though I was at a loss...
Oh, how could Jesus love me so
from that old rugged cross?
The sun was setting in the west
behind some hitching posts.
And weathered boards, on buildings old,
had nothing left to boast.
©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
-------
Gert Strydom, 1 february 2013
(after Johan Johl)
With his first crow
he announces the morning
watching he is searching
for the first rays of light
with a tense body and feathers spread out.
When the sun rises bright and radiant
it splashes over his neck and body
and right there he becomes cocky,
is ready to fight
like a tree toed devil,
to avert anyone with kicks from his hens
as if the sun has contaminated his head
while he has a view
of the white flaming ball in his eye
and he crows again,
pulls himself erect
where he stands hot in the morning,
as a cheeky cock
In the afternoon he walks boldly
up and down the yard,
pecks here and there
even scratches in the dust
which blows in the wind
before he spreads his wings
to catch the heat of the sun in them
and he leaves his tracks everywhere,
is ready with his striking and treading kick
for them that he does despise
while he waits on dusk
and crows loudly again
orders anyone to stay out of his yard.
[Reference: “Hanepoot op die middaguur” (Cock’s paw during the afternoon hour) by Johann Johl.]
Gert Strydom, 1 february 2013
Next to an apple tree at a crossroad
a woman plays a song of love
which is swept away by the wind,
as she plays a cello at her thigh
the wind blows swishing past and she is alone
and wonders when spring will come
with the apple tree blooming again
and half-blinded she plays
with her heart that she pours into the song.
Three howling foxes are caught by the melody
and they linger as if they are hanging onto the tune
while she plays with deep a deep kind of longing.
[References: Painting: “Woman with the cello and foxes” by Andrzej Busza. Gedig: “Vrou met tjello en jakkalse” (Woman with the cello and foxes) by Johann Johl.]
Gert Strydom, 1 february 2013
(after D.J. Opperman with apology to Johann Johl)
Next to the sea
where a bird in amok does scream
the widow Viljee strides on
and she is so lost without her man
with two Dalmatians following her close.
The poor woman, Viljee
and the dogs cannot understand
what the bird is screaming
while they walk on.
Oh woe, oh woe the widow Viljee
when the lot of them
detonate a landmine,
and pieces crackles-thunder clap
as if reaching for the sky
and later her basket of knotted birch-cane
are picked up by two people that are in love.
[References: “Met apologie” (With apology) by D.J. Opperman, Dubbelloop: ‘n pastiche (Double barrel a pastiche) by Johann Johl, “Bostelegraaf” (Bus htelegraph) by Johann Johl.]
Satish Verma, 1 february 2013
When moon will wash my doors
I will come out in night
to find you in dark
and lose you in light.
Does it resonate with you
O my truth
O my pain
time has moved back.
My love whitens the shadow
of a black rose in the nakedness of waking.
Do not want to disappoint the sun
and enter into a grain.
I am the stillness and I am
the noise. Motherless I am born
in black water
of immaculate death.
Satish Verma
louis gander, 31 january 2013
I wander yonder over hills where those before me trod -
aimlessly through wants and needs. I find it somewhat odd.
I wander yonder guessing so and pay a heavy price -
by following some friends I have and words of ill-advice.
I wander yonder through my life and laugh along the way -
deceiving self, believing I am happy every day.
I wander yonder up until the day I get so old -
a speck of truth will be revealed that I had not been told.
I wander yonder 'til the time that I begin to ponder -
God's great faithful, loving Son, so full of grace and wonder.
©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
-------
Joe Breunig, 31 january 2013
Nothing… that occurs within our daily lives,
despite the endless flow of pain and sorrow,
will separate us from the eternal love of God,
regardless of events – be it today or tomorrow.
For the solitary accomplishment of Christ
has bridged the chasm of sin’s spiritual gap;
therefore, to Him we all must willing turn.
He alone is the True Vine, in which we must tap.
Apart from our Lord and His sacred principles,
our odds of living a successful life may not endure;
learn to accept and recognize that He solely is…
the Great Physician and our Divine Cure.
Our appointed time to die waits for us,
since the wages of sin will always be death;
receive the everlasting gift of Salvation,
knowing that we came to life… from God’s breath.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Rom 6:23, 8:39; John 15:1-17; Jer 8:18-22
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
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