David de la Croes, 16 january 2013
The last note in the song of your life has been sung
but its sweet melody still echoes in my soul
and each new break of day displays the brilliance
of your exquisite smile with gentle rays of gold.
Your soft touch can be felt in petals of flowers
and the music of nature rings with your laughter.
Though there are times when sadness and heartache rule,
and challenges seem more difficult and tougher
I know that only time, not distance, separates,
and in the quiet moments of a fast-fleeting life
the sweet memory of you brings contentment great.
Gert Strydom, 16 january 2013
Here I want to thank the black government
for their type of freedom that circles out wider,
from a job I have been affirmed and are free from it
and it is not very long
that I am again aware about this freedom thing,
when black robbers drive around in both my cars.
Before I can wipe out my eyes the police visit me
while they wander around in my house
without a invitation, or even a warrant
where they set me free of my pellet guns,
my stainless steel Colt .45 signature model pistol
and ELG shotgun without laying a charge.
I have to deal with freedom again
when black people cheer in the street
about the soccer world cup,
jumping up and down everywhere around me
while they sing, they assure me of freedom,
but my cellular phone disappears
and the felon that has it is also very happy.
At home a stranger rushes upon me
while he points a firearm at my head
to rob me from my possessions,
to set me free from my property
and probably spits AIDS into my face,
says he was promised a land of milk and honey
and if you think that here I am only joking
you do not get the real meaning of this poem,
as these things did really happen
and still I am facing this kind of freedom.
Gert Strydom, 16 january 2013
Just beyond Gordon’s Bay
where arum-lilies bloom
I had dropped her,
and look with wonder for a moment at nature
but she walked back into my arms again.
Gert Strydom, 16 january 2013
When he wakes up at first light
without a movement he looks at her
in her peaceful sleep
where she is right against him
but away in thoughts and existence.
He is much too scared to move,
scared that she might awake
before the right time
and then suddenly she opens her eyes
and he fills her gaze,
as she draws him to the heat of her body.
Satish Verma, 16 january 2013
Poetry wound
and a large schism
starts an invasion.
Numbness pours out.
You become nobody;
depart without a farewell.
A crazy word
is lost and a delirious
search is initiated.
Bit by bit
coexistence is found
between the sheets.
Unwrap the gift;
a live grenade
explodes mouthful.
Satish Verma
Kahlia Mazacalletti, 16 january 2013
Being born into a family Black and Blue was hard; to say the least
I was not the prodigal daughter; I was a black sheep
A shirt with two double zero's on it...........
Never doing anything right was just oh so wrong
Sitting on a curb; dangling my feet off
Going to sleep in the basement; lower than my self esteem
EMERGENCY
Always undermined by my older brother; the Golden Child
Beaten in my mind til I was purple
Kept on lock down in my own home
Should I have held up a white flag?
EMERGENCY
I never realized the toll it took on me til I got in therapy
Her always asking me the questions......how did that make you feel?
It felt like an EMERGENCY......God, I needed Help.................
Twisted and worn, I left that HOME at age 17, and I am the person I am today, because of it
I asked GOD for help and HE listened every time
No More Emergencies
Kahlia Mazacalletti, 16 january 2013
She lies so still and breathless; waiting
For she knows it is going to come to an end
Why must it be this way and so restless
When they were so much more than friends
It hurts like a burn; yet it is healing
Knowing that life must go on
Feeling like a little girl that is growing
One more day into dawn.....
So, she is getting her wings and is flying
Is waiting for blue skies to soar
Is ready to move on to another
For she can take this no more
Patricia Etienne, 15 january 2013
With your narcissistic aspects,
How can I grow under your shadow?
Must I always carry a panhandling,
or...
Break
Away?
Either way...
The thought of you give me the fear.
Must I remain passive
so I can be pet around?
Must I act coercively-
Again...
How can I break loose
From this-
Hypochondria form of you?
David de la Croes, 15 january 2013
When I am gone and forgotten
and my existence erased
from all living memory;
when my remains
are grounded to dust
I still want something
to remain of me
even a speck infinitely small
to testify to the universe
that I have loved you.
Gert Strydom, 15 january 2013
In space beyond the terrestrial atmosphere
the sun endlessly opens its furnace doors
and at times sends heat more intense
which the naked eye can hardly trace
and the moon at times is romantic yellow,
sometimes more chilly white
or white with a blue hue
or with a solace, copper red
before it turns black
with only the photosphere
shining like a diamond ring
and in the evening breeze
the stars buds out, flickering
like fruit on a gigantic tree
but to me, you are brighter than the sun
shining at full blast,
more magical than the charming moon,
your eyes out glowing any stars
and the feelings that you evoke
words can hardly comprehend
even if every last one is spend.
Poetry
Prose
Photography
Graphics
Video poems
Postcards
Diary
Books
Handmade
