Satish Verma, 22 november 2012
I was not indifferent to graffiti
but oracle was telling a different story
of embellished arms race
about the mathematics of terror.
Less comprehensible
I presume.
But who was transparent and
simple today.
A wisp was rising among the hills.
We do not want to know,
is it scattering the cobalt?
Toys calling the masters?
And that sinking feeling,
they were singing money
in fake currency which
was not hot.
Satish Verma
Kahlia Mazacalletti, 21 november 2012
People do not understand the position of the weary
Tired and lonely, they tread on
Into the Garden of Earthly Intentions
Cruelty surrounds them-a circle of mockery
A lifetime of behavior;taught by others
Why the torment they ask-were we someone's possesions?
Do we live a life of solitude and and square walls only to find our own demise?
The long road to nowhere, the short walk to Neverville.
A box; living in a self contained unit
Trying to escape their own reality
While everyone looks on
The world goes on around them and mocks their uncertainty
Pokes fun of inadaquacies and jokes at their lives
It is sad in Neverville-no smile, laughs or grins
Only the heartbeat of a lonely soul
Crying out for Mercy one last time.
Kahlia Mazacalletti, 21 november 2012
My heart is boken; like like the hearstrings of an unstrung harp
Given to a prodigal child to play
You were my brother, my best friend
To talk to one night and be gone the next
A tradgedy-like a play; even Shakespeare could not have written a sadder ending than yours
Today is your dying day-the day the angels came for you
That you never were to return to me
Are you flying in the in the Blue Sky? Are you soaring in the Heavans? I miss you every day.
Like a piece of of me is missing; the puzzle is incomplete now.
What happened to you, Chaz, in your deep requeim of sleep
You are now in your six foot under home.
Your picture still sits by my bed-as a reminder that you are not forgotten; you are missed.
May GOD Bless You and keep You in His loving care, May the Heavans be your Golden Home.......
You were the best person I ever knew.
Joe Breunig, 21 november 2012
People wonder, how can Christ, be all things to everyone?
Without the proper perspective, Truth can be missed.
So carefully consider some ideas presented here,
before these spiritual concepts are mistakenly dismissed.
To the BUILDER, Christ is the Sure Foundation.
To the ARCHITECT, He is the Chief Corner Stone.
To the GEOLOGIST, He is the Rock of Ages.
To the SCULPTOR, He is the Living Stone.
To the STUDENT, Christ is the Incarnate Truth.
To the PHILOSOPHER, He is the Wisdom of God.
To the BANKER, He is the Hidden Treasure.
To the PREACHER, He is the Word of God.
To the DOCTOR, Christ is the Great Physician.
To the SERVANT, He is the Good Master.
To the THEOLOGIAN, He is the Author of our Faith.
To the EDUCATOR, He is the Great Teacher.
To the JEWELER, Christ is the Pearl of Great Price.
To the ARTIST, He is the One Altogether Lovely.
To the HORTICULTURIST, He is the True Vine.
To the FLORIST, He is the Lily of the Valley.
To the STATESMAN, Christ is the Desire of all Nations.
To the CARPENTER, He is the Eternal Door.
To the PHILANTHROPIST, He is the Unspeakable Gift.
To the LAWYER, He is the Lawgiver, Advocate and Counselor.
To the BIOLOGIST, Christ is the Life.
To the ENGINEER, He is the New and Living Way.
To the TOILER, He is the Giver of Rest.
To the SINNER, He is the Lamb Who takes all sin away.
Our Christ is a multi-faceted personality,
Who has something for everyone who comes to Him.
Therefore, we should continue to rejoice in Who He is,
by offering heart-felt praise through songs and hymns.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Col 1:15-18; 2 Tim 2:19; Eph 2:20; Isa 26:4; 1 Pet 2:4-12;
Matt 28:20; Cor 1:24; John 1:1; Heb 12:2; Jer 17:14;
Matt 19:16-17; John 1:3; Matt 16:13-17; John 3:1-2; Matt 13:45; John 15:1; SoS 2:1; Hag 2:7; John 10:7; Cor 9:15; James 4:12; 1 John 2:1-2; Isa 9:6-7; John 14:6; Heb 3:1-4:13; John 1:29
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
This poem is not meant to serve as an all encompassing list of professions; for example, here are a few more viewpoints not mentioned:
To the BAKER, He is the Living Bread.
To the JUDGE, He is the Righteous Judge of all Men.
To the NEWSPAPER, He is the Good Tidings of Great Joy.
To the OCULIST, He is the Light of the Eyes.
To the SOLDIER, He is the fortress.
To the CHRISTIAN, He is the Son of the Living God, the Savior, the Redeemer and the Lord.
Joe Breunig, 21 november 2012
Give praise to the Passover Lamb,
the only begotten Son of the Great I Am.
For He willingly humbled Himself
and served as the propitiation for our sins;
His Truth will be revealed at Earth’s end,
from having laid down His life as our Friend.
Give praise to the Passover Lamb,
the holy begotten Son of the Great I Am.
Our Lord made the ultimate sacrifice,
donating Himself as the World’s sin offering.
Although temporarily buried in death’s tomb,
He exited triumphantly from that cryptal womb.
Give praise to the Passover Lamb,
the eternal begotten Son of the Great I Am.
Today He sits at the right hand of the Father,
humbly interceding on our behalf daily!
Now is still the acceptable day of Salvation,
for He paid the cost for our soul’s preservation.
Give praise to the Passover Lamb,
the blessed begotten Son of the Great I Am.
Entertaining thoughts of a spiritual breakthrough?
Know that it is not too late to save your soul.
For those who dare, Victory is available to everyone
that receives the sacred gift of the firstborn Son.
Give praise to the Passover Lamb,
the divine begotten Son of the Great I Am.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Heb 1:1-3, 12:2; Phil 2:8-9; Rom 3:19-26, 6:4; 2 Cor 6:2;
Eph 3:9; John 1:18, 3:16; Jam 2:14-26; 1 Cor 15
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
Joe Breunig, 21 november 2012
Although Jehovah can never be contained,
with me, a portion of His presence can remain…
since I’ve placed an altar to Him in my heart.
Having desired an ongoing holy communion,
I’ve embraced my Lord in a spiritual union,
knowing my life is one… of His works of art.
While blurring church divisional boundaries,
I choose to focus on God’s heavenly guarantees
and enjoy the abundance of His provision.
From recalling “greater is Him who is in me”,
I can’t help but see “divine possibilities”,
when daring to imagine a life of Godly vision.
So now, I bravely go forth with boldness,
as a temple covered by Christ’s righteousness,
leading spiritual seekers… from their wilderness.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Matt 19:26, 28:18-20; 1 Pet 2:5; Acts 16:30-31; Rom 8:10, 10:4;
1 Cor 1:30, 12; 1 John 3:1-24, 4:4; Eph 3:12; Deu 31:6
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
Gert Strydom, 21 november 2012
She softly spoke my name during her sleep,
turned around on a cool linen sheet
while slowly along the dark night did creep,
the air was with fragrant lavender sweet,
had the smell of jasmine and cinnamon,
stretching out naked across the soft bed
her limbs and body in the moonlight shone
and on the pillow laid her curly head,
before at dawn the many stars were shed.
Gert Strydom, 21 november 2012
(after Dorothy Parker)
How much I longed for her to be different
but still through the ages it stayed true
that no girl was heaven sent
and to the ways of love there was nothing new,
while a boy and girl each other met it was the same
and like all others they did kiss and kiss,
while being for a time in bliss, believing no other was like this
and who is to blame when suddenly the parting came?
Helen smiled in sheer loveliness,
while the man that swept her away was somewhat reckless
and one true darling I do implore,
but probably will wait forevermore.
[Reference: “Incurable” by Dorothy Parker.]
Gert Strydom, 21 november 2012
I’d rather give all of my love and give it well
and have a heartbreaking story to tell
than act selfish, thin and wise
and land in the pits of another kind of hell.
[Reference: “Partial comfort” by Dorothy Parker.]
Satish Verma, 21 november 2012
Rain of victims.
Crossing a parched field
a summer moon was laughing
like a naked lie.
I intend to lie in state,
no grass was going to cry.
A red spot was growing
on your chest.
Were you shot in heart?
Creeping, they want to put the sandal paste
on the dome.
I walk waist-high between
the kneeling heads.
Who were the inmates of the
black house,
which was so sexy?
I do not mean anything, over the head
a kite was flying.
Satish Verma
Poetry
Prose
Photography
Graphics
Video poems
Postcards
Diary
Books
Handmade
