Gert Strydom, 11 september 2012
What can I bring to you
in a world where everything is dark?
What can I give to you that are true,
what can I bring to you,
if everything is broken in whatever I do;
do you find something more in my eyes, in each remark?
What can I bring to you
in a world where everything is dark?
Gert Strydom, 11 september 2012
You long to go to a place near mountain streams
where we wander around in our memories
or maybe to the Knysna forest you go in your dreams.
You long to go to a place near mountain streams
for which your heart at times screams
where we wander among the trees without worries.
You long to go to a place near mountain streams,
where we wander around in our memories.
Gert Strydom, 11 september 2012
As far away as the blue
where the sun touches the hillocks
lies the things that was once true,
as far away as the blue
lays memories of me and you,
where things are like they had been, like the rocks,
as far away as the blue
where the sun touches the hillocks.
Satish Verma, 11 september 2012
Under the gaze of bald beliefs
a warped dialect
becomes a squeezer.
Helplessly I watch
the slashing of my wrists.
Darkness burns, without light
only intense heat.
The expected miracle digs in
around, in trenches of my knees.
I become a walking ghost.
An immaculate landscape
with not a single blade of grass.
Only a blazing sun, threatening
to make you thingless and godless,
a proximity to aloneness.
Satish Verma
Rigoberto Rivas, 10 september 2012
My heart quivers.
My mind shivers.
My soul wants to leave.
My eyes refuse to see.
Hands no longer feel.
To rest in my eternal slumber is what i wish.
To see , feel, taste, smell, and hear nothing and lose consciousness.
The will to live has simply sucked out of me.
I fought against the world and lost my sef in everything i had seen.
To see, feel, taste, smell ,and hear nothing.
That lone thought is nothing yet something.
There are difference between wanting to wake up and not wanting to live.
To face no hardship no torture yet to feel like you hold the burden of the world.
Nightrayne, 10 september 2012
I have tried to deny it
I've swore to myself it isn't true.
But I can feel it,
burning deep inside me,
like a festering wound.
I don't need you.
You're not the reason that I breath.
But you are the reason for the ache inside me.
You are the pain I can't share.
You are the loneliness and longing before I go to bed.
You are the hole inside my heart that can't be filled.
But you are not the smile that brightens up my day
You are not the touch that sets me free.
You are not the kind and caring eyes
I've come to love
You are not my safety.
You are not my strength.
You're just the one I love,
and love is only a feeling
like anger and hate
one day it will fade
and all I'll have left
is this hole that you left.
Satish Verma, 10 september 2012
You walk on burning embers
like a black stone
to meet the end before beginning
on empty landscape.
What was the need
to cross a saviour?
Death had the wedding anniversary
in a garden -
full of blessings for the sky
to enter the round seed of thought.
After the explosion, there were
severed heads of two smiling teens.
Satish Verma
Kezang Dawa, 10 september 2012
I knew not you’re in the heart of broken yoreThe trust of thy is shakenTill the end of burning pyre is taken.I can see the smoke on top of the windFloating like the stratocumulus;Those smoke does not belong to meIt all belongs to the mortal death.Oh! Son, be the tearless man to cry;Before I was burn to ashes.But my sickness won’t be last long.I am happy that thou saw my death!Has come from all angle;To grieve at my eternal leave taking.Truth of death never lie;It keeps on stretching with the streakOnly angle of death must tell you the absent.Feel the knot of thy death knell;When everything is decay for the warm to feed
Kezang Dawa
Kezang Dawa, 10 september 2012
What is a poem?Someone says… poem,Is powerful words expressed,through agony of a broken heart
during the strugglewhen love is but pain.Nothing is neither rightnor wrong when itcomes to the title of a poem,It can bring a theme of passion.from sorrow down to happiness.A poem is the hardest sentenceThat comes fromOur lamented heart;Poems are sometimes calledThrilling words of tragic sadness,Words are expressed silentlyFrom our heart toGive a fire in a man’s brainNothing is harder than an epigram,Greater than sorrow;Softer than pain.Pathetic word of a poem;saw the seed to germinate anew.to one another sorrow.That of time we all called it paradox.Poem is the greatest word,Spoken by a man,A poem is read by deaf and dumbFelt by those who suffer the same pain.When a man’s boredom is uprootedinto the words of acceptance,And a poem comes as a purpose of a man.The power of writing poems ruled the heartAs much as human feel the truth of elegy.Now a man cannot write a poemUnless he lived through tragic sadness once….IN all, a poem is the greatest pain expressed!
Kezang Dawa
Ipaye Israel, 9 september 2012
How long have I waited precariously deciding?
Memory denied me! As if inadvertently pretending
This case, many roads divert in a yellow wood
Yet, me one traveler couldn’t travel all with one mood
Each adorned with these ostentatious colours and never derail
Shining like onyx, making the flippant ones many astray
With no haste, hurry or fury, the presentable sepal face shall grow
Shelving disdain and ignominy, not wobbled in to and fro
With my eccentrics, my feelings I thought no one could ever deprive
From the vagabonds, what pleasure would they derive
As though speech-impaired, vis-à-vis the intractable feelings I couldn’t express
Amid men soul, many that wavers and give place, I felt depressed
A justified feelings, so glaring forced to enunciate, she imprecisely ignore
Speechless, a dash of hope, rather to my bed, maybe to death I could snore.
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