Gert Strydom, 22 october 2012
My darling has got tiger eyes,
my most beloved has got semi-precious stones
that sometimes shines gleaming
as if a golden colour
is hidden deeply in the brown of her eyes,
as if the darkness of her eyes
holds on to a secret kind of light.
Sometimes the eyes of my beloved gleams
golden like the sun
that hangs in an open blue sky,
as if she continually with her heat
can comfort, caress and cover my skin.
Sometimes I want to be lost
in the depths of her eyes,
I want to loose myself,
I want to be soulless and forget myself
when I know of the depth
of our true love.
Gert Strydom, 22 october 2012
The sea is lost in your eyes
and sometimes there is a kind of green
that shines right through the dark brown depths
in a secret kind of beauty,
something much deeper
than only the perception of pain
with some character shining in them
and sometimes I do continually wonder
what kind of thoughts do you think?
Gert Strydom, 22 october 2012
Sometimes it’s as if stars spark in your eyes
as if they glitter green,
sometimes there is something true and pure,
something more whiter than snow,
and I feel drunk in your presence
and sometimes I feel as old as ages
but you make me young again,
while your lips brings something sweet
to the bitterness of life.
Gert Strydom, 22 october 2012
Sometimes it’s as if stars spark in your eyes
as if they glitter green,
sometimes there is something true and pure,
something more whiter than snow,
and I feel drunk in your presence
and sometimes I feel as old as ages
but you make me young again,
while your lips brings something sweet
to the bitterness of life.
Gert Strydom, 22 october 2012
Sometimes it’s as if stars spark in your eyes
as if they glitter green,
sometimes there is something true and pure,
something more whiter than snow,
and I feel drunk in your presence
and sometimes I feel as old as ages
but you make me young again,
while your lips brings something sweet
to the bitterness of life.
Satish Verma, 22 october 2012
A unique, irreverent intruder:
in my dying dreams,
of a domain beyond the gifts.
The corridor was full of
specters in boiling air.
The DNA will not cover the naked strands
of desires.
Put out to sea, my boat
in cloud cluster, I will meet
the eye of cyclone in its full furry.
The tempest was the moment of truth
to know the self. One night I will
become a palm tree wearing the
mask of history.
Satish Verma
Prachi Agrawal, 21 october 2012
Isn’t it amazing?
It has been just a month or more
And within such a short span of time
Our friendship has grown on such a firm line.
The way you look at me and smile
You turn around and stand still for a while
The way you speak’ the way you stare
Your eyes have so much to share.
Since the time you’ve been with me
It has been so wonderful
The brightness in your eyes hides the darkness
But yet they shine so bright.
The time stops when we are together
All sorrows hide in sinister
Great friends have great time
We won’t change with passing time.
Nathan, 21 october 2012
These are my happy, ugly, brutal times
Syria’s on fire and we got freedom fighters in the streets
Libya is the modern day Alamo except with barely any protection
While the bodies are dragged through the streets a video is to blame
As the caskets are rolled in we take a moment to reflect
On what we really know what killed them
Osama bit the bullet and New York rejoiced with one raised fist
Twin Towers that fell into the ground have come back up
Coming straight from the ashes, rising like a phoenix
While its people shouted “we will not be afraid”
Going from gathering in the streets for comfort
To gathering in the streets chanting victory
If there was any chivalry left, it’s dead and gone
Just turn on your TV and follow a campaign
The time of hope and change has passed
And people are still at point A and back to the drawing board
We are at the crossroads of our time
One way is gonna bury us and another way is gonna raise us
These are my happy, ugly, brutal times.
Satish Verma, 21 october 2012
Battle remains between
white and black,
a synthetic truth
and a bald faced hornet.
Aching violence was spreading
on moon. I was tossing around
the stars placing the apostrophe
in the end.
There was a conflict in pain
and the pill. It was a prelude to the
carrier of a gun. Father was degenerating
in his son’s boots.
The social split was widening
in the gulf of posterity. You dress
as a bride to receive the punishment
from the hands of arrogance.
Satish Verma
Glenn McCrary, 20 october 2012
‘Twas a rather sodden evening
When the congregation had begun departing
Pending an austere twister
I know not if it was deliberately
though for some reason the bright red hue
That comprises your vehicle ensnared my eyes
it was in that moment when your lovely smile
Rose to prominence in the
Gradually diluting presence of the rain
Chuckles sprang forth in merriment
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