Gert Strydom, 25 january 2013
The shadows of the afternoon are drawing long lines,
against the hillock there are specs of red aloes
while the afternoon lingers, the sun descends,
and a neighbour takes his first sip of wine;
old ladies chatter softly at their back doors,
a woman peeps to the street through some curtains
and on the hot roof of a big old house
some cats are baking in the sun.
When another neighbour unpacks his briefcase
I do wonder if you are coming to visit,
while the dog snarls at the passing postman on his bicycle
and at twilight it’s still a great maybe,
while I am growing hunger
and am wondering if our relationship will last?
Gert Strydom, 25 january 2013
A jackal is howling at the moon
while the eyes of some small animals gleam in the dark,
the wind moans around the corners of the house
and at times outside its just dark night
with long shadows falling on the wall,
and in a room only a single light is on
while an old man moans half-dazed
as he is busy enduring the pain of approaching death.
His face is white-pale and sweating,
time passes far too slowly, drags on hour after hour,
and portraits of some family patriots
peer into my eyes as if they do know some deep secrets
and I wonder where life is going
when the world changes, when time does move on.
Gert Strydom, 25 january 2013
Most of winter was stripped of life
but in thousands they do suddenly appear
when all of the blue sky is full of fluttering
with migrating birds gliding everywhere
as they come to rest on roofs and telephone lines
and you are surrounded by singing, twittering birds
pertly flapping down on porches
and from daybreak you can hear their calls
when in hordes in the garden skilfully they do peck at insects,
are peering from branches
while you still are shivering from the morning’s chill
and in the early twilight their chattering awakes you
as some peck on crumbs
and try to exist in a town or city.
Gert Strydom, 25 january 2013
When waves sweep out and break,
are sucking on sea-grass trails
and do drag you along as if you are some animal
caught in the power of the great blue ocean
and in the quick sudden development
when horizon, sun and sky does divide
with breakers that break, cleave and spread open
there is something that penetrates your humanity
something about the vastness and potency of the sea
as it’s sucking, drawing and clings to you
when you do decide to swim out of it,
are aware of its pure power
and muscles are used to almost utmost effort
to cleave through water, to swim if you are still able to.
Kahlia Mazacalletti, 25 january 2013
She rides the bus each morning; wishing she had a car
The smell of the fumes are overwhelming, but she has no choice
At each stop someone "New" or the daily person gets on
Most of the time she gets a seat but when it is crowded she holds on to the upper bar
Once in awhile someone nice will ask if she wants a seat
She looks around to see all the different colors and patterns
Shoes, Coats, Dresses, Briefcases, Suits, Umbrellas
Someone talking louder than all the others
The Bus Driver looking in the rearview mirror.........
Seeing what there is to see
She thinks to herself.......
Driving must be better than riding the bus?
Kahlia Mazacalletti, 25 january 2013
I said a prayer for you today; For all the times you went astray
I still care for you; none the less
Even though "WE" are such a mess
It seems it's been going on so long; and we haven't been that strong
Why can't we just let it go? It's dead and something we both know
We used to laugh and smile and love; From all the Grace we got from up Above
Now we fight and call each other names; You say we just "play little games"
I think you are wrong and I am right; Somewhere in this drama fight
For Love is blind and Fool's can't win; what is put right in front of them
Let's end this war right now
And go on with Life
We will make it somehow
Through all the strife
Cause only GOD knows; we are ready to bow
Kahlia Mazacalletti, 25 january 2013
He was a Millionaire I met on the Beach in Miami
His condominiuim was all white
Do you think it would get dirty?
He had a closet that was electric like the cleaners
Turn on the switch and pick your clothes
He had things from all around the world
He didn't have a girlfriend or an ex-wife
He had sold his company for 90 million dollars
Oh, the stories He told me.................
It must be Really hard to be wealthy; money cannot buy everything
He only told me his name was Zachary
He didn't want a last name
Just like some people don't want a pet
He was one of the kindest, gentlest, men I ever knew
When I got out of the University of Florida and moved
I often wondered what happened to Zachary?
Maybe He bought an island somewhere; is livin' in the middle of the sea
He would have liked that
I would have liked that, too
Satish Verma, 25 january 2013
In time warp, to find
the fell of a dark moon
my thoughts bring out a birthday gift.
The first step in fog
discovers the sharp edge
of kindness.
Who will believe
this black and white,
suicide of a sage?
Newborn roses and dahlias
speak through
the nothingness of fear.
I just saw the face of death
floating on a pond.
Ashes and bones out of the urn.
Satish Verma
louis gander, 25 january 2013
There is nothing more fine on a warm summer day
than lying in grasses of clover and hay,
where breezes make music through all of the leaves,
and birds do their singing among all the trees.
A butterfly zig-zagged here hither and yon
busily flapping as I had looked on.
I raised my eyes up at the vastness of space
and wondered what God thought of His human race.
Soaking up comfort in all that I saw,
lying there silent, in skeptical awe -
pouring His beauty in nature below,
oh, how did God start it so long, long ago?
He continues to bless us year after year -
and why does He love us? It isn't too clear.
Now God did create us - all different kinds,
so what does He look for in all of our minds?
My horse wandered over and nuzzeled my head.
He wanted me up in the saddle instead.
I sat on his back, took a minute or two -
and pondered the question, pondered a clue.
As I kicked his haunches I knew as I grinned
that he would obey as I leaned to the wind.
He faithfully galloped with all of his might -
the answer revealed as I rode out of sight.
©2009 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
-------
Joe Breunig, 24 january 2013
Spiked to pair of wooden, interlocking beams,
He hung bleeding, after being severely whipped.
There Christ experienced for the first time,
what it really meant to be like us -
bruised, dirty and covered by a legacy of sin
that clamors for our eventual death.
On that fateful day of His crucifixion,
our Lord felt the agony of separation,
as Jehovah turned His back towards earth,
being unable to gaze lovingly at The Son.
In Christ’s final hours of suffering,
God’s presence had departed from Him;
He was subjected to physical pain,
the shame from emotional wounds of rejection,
the ridicule concerning His destiny
and divine, heavenly authority.
Today He wears the disfiguring reminders,
permanently in His holy and glorified body,
while His eyes drip with tears of forgiveness;
it’s an unending testament of His Love for us,
having been… forever scarred.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Rom 6:23; Isa 53:5; Matt 27:27-56; Mark 15:21-38;
Luke 23:26-49; John 19:16-37
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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