Gert Strydom, 31 january 2013
When I first heard your voice,
in it there was something incredulous pure
a kind of serene beauty that one expects
at the heavenly court
and nowhere else to hear
as if the war had for a time stopped
between armies of angels
and legions of demons
while they all listened in awe
and even nature was stunned at the sound of it.
Gert Strydom, 31 january 2013
Now that in thoughts, spirit, heart
and soul we are one,
every thing that is insecure is gone
as if we will never again be apart
and if loving is a kind of art
that turns a heart from stone
then we will never again be alone
never will we from each other depart
and who could have expected it to be like this
as if everything has a kind of perfection to it
and you are my perfect girl with whom I want to pursue
everything that life can be with happiness in what it is
while daily we grow closer bit by tiny bit
and you are part of everything I am and do
Satish Verma, 31 january 2013
A proxy life
I was fighting in the hourglass
to open the pathways of a grain
for a bloody birth of an idea.
Was time faithful to us
when we were drifting apart?
A prowling big cat had again attacked in dark
and broken the necks of lambs.
Now miracles are flying
and you want to get the solid gold
hidden in a borewell, the colour
of a sunset and a yellow wager.
Today I will forget the grief
of generations, dispossessed of death and myths.
You have not lifted the pugmarks
unburdening my truth.
Satish Verma
Blossom Sol, 31 january 2013
Dear Doctor DIY homotherapy kitten,
Your Don Juan ways
molesting my emotions
are no longer welcomed
in this golden temple
of outspoken, introverted
words of unheard-of wisdom.
Oh you may dream but its
so obviously promising
your lack of sincerty behind
evil smiles
illuminating eyes
despising my inside
sinister being! yet love reaches out
through cracks in your
well nourished up bringing
your out of the ordinary view
of contrasts between
this and that
here and there
do you know everything about me?
What underwear do I wear?
Ay little madam thats curly haired man infested
with words endlessly flowing from unclean
fingernailed bitten that's ridden with ecstacy
of hopless romantic dreams
Tell me your next plan
or what you thought of last year
of me, in the past
you know, before I fast
out your lieing ways,
below the hays of
watering melows
we sing
you made me dance in your lime light
with lemons sour to the taste
yet in my mind you resonate
and thoughts of you are not haste
my dear sweet harrington bear
you say this and that
but you clearly do not care
and who am I to care
when a stranger you are
a time passer at best
in a time travelers car.
Love from, Portia.
Blossom Sol, 31 january 2013
They called her coco
and she danced in white feathers
against sun kissed skin
my cocoa bean princess
of beauty
of grace
dancing in her white plumed feathers
asking me to chase
her, eagerly I run
like I run from my life
like I run towards hope of failure
to make this princess my wife
she offers me love like no dove
has ever flown
past broken windows
of the seas reflection
no mermaid princess has known
My coco,
my queen
my everything that is obcene
Please dance, dance, dance for me!
My angel of the night
in delight
you make me come
to words unspoken
in this dimension of faith
How I love you coco
like the tongue with my words chafe
Blossom Sol, 31 january 2013
Pick up the phone
call quick
the box lures you in
come on come on
gives us your pennies
you slave ridden homicidal children of the lamb.
Spin the dice, take a chance!
With the devil, you shall dance!
Keep them coming,
the sand sinks quick
but stays conscious enough
for another persona to pick
Today I am fancy,
Today I am devine
And I shall call you mortermer
and tip toe on your hell bent telephone line
Blossom Sol, 31 january 2013
Venus crossed my mind
like blocks of burdened wood
crossed jesus,that one time
thousand of earth years ago
written in unholy prose
here it is my unwittingly comment
to poke and prod
to elicitily torment
your un-nerving sense
of erotic humour
procrasting my insides
like a forseen tumour
Oh bless me be these hopeless
flying imbiciles, let her crawl
let her sink, in mudden haven
of dead skulls rotted of memories
that once held thoughts
unnecessary to the world
And they ask
Where was God?
Well would you still be here?
For every human being soul lost
every undeserved tear
Such being waits
for you to wake up
to stop looking at yourself
and drink from the eternity cup
Praise be to allah
Praise be to all
As we sit on computer generated motivated nonsense
on a planet so small.
Esther Thornburg, 30 january 2013
Before the key of time turns the lock
Value the days we have got.
Treasures of enjoyment mean a lot.
A gracious compliment not forgot
Can change a difficult days thought.
What stories do the ancient games hold?
In wisdom, what have they told?
When the chess game is over
The pawn and King go in the same box.
Let the key of time turn the lock.
Many calendars have come and gone
Grandpa is doing things as time goes on.
He and the tractor spent days of youth,
It is being polished up, reveal its worth.
Together they tilled good old earth.
Grandma still pieces a quilt.
Pieces saved from garments built.
Remember the places, what they wore.
Cut away spots, faded and tore,
They revealed stories of days of yours.
The youth today are searching the way
They preppare and face tomorrow's day.
Enjoy and learn the how-to ways.
Find the way basic knowledge plays.
Build the precious memories to come and stay.
Geetima Baruah Sarma, 30 january 2013
Does she cry in desolation?
Equally gifted with a body
And endowed with a talent indeed,
But abandoned,
As failed to fulfill her parents’ need.
Education in reality,
The light of life,
Tears her cocoon, destroys hibernation,
Her career,
Now breaks barriers of discrimination.
Happiness gained,
Her smile makes the stars twinkle
And she finds love on the horizon,
To celebrate
And cherish moments on a pristine occasion.
[Published in the e-magazine 'Frog Croon' in December 2011 issue]
Alicja Kuberska, 30 january 2013
We should die
to be born again.
We must be burnt
in the ocean of flames,
like the mythical Phoenix.
Our life shuts some doors
and opens the next ones.
It is like a long,
winding road.
It is impossible to go back.
We must walk ahead,
right to the end.
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