Esther Thornburg, 8 august 2012
Just to exist, life is filled with labor.
A day may be filled with an act of love
Toward someone passing our way.
They move on, not here to stay.
Is love lost, gone its way?
Will the receiver share love to another?
A traveler, a friend, a brother?
Was love realy lost or found its way
To inspire another on their difficult day?
Gert Strydom, 8 august 2012
Like my father before me,
and in the way that my son,
my daughter will do
I have sprouted from this fertile land
have felt the rain falling in big drops
upon the red-brown hot sand,
have smelt new life springing forth
from the wetness of rain,
from the wetness of human seed
I have smelt the sulphur of blue-white thunder,
have experienced the wonder
of seeing new seedlings bursting
right through the ground
and this continent of Africa
where the sun hangs
in a cobalt blue sky,
will as long as I am living
be home to me.
Gert Strydom, 8 august 2012
What I know about my dad is only a few things,
eyes that radiates in seriousness,
he was sometimes strict but it was measured by love,
he was a god fearing man, but an Afrikaner
into the depths of his soul
and a teacher of history and Afrikaans
I remember his voice
reading the poems that he prepared
for post graduate studies in literature,
which made me get gooseflesh
from enjoyment
and so “early autumn,”
“the headless horseman”
“Maria” and “I will go to my father”
and many other poems
became to lie deep in my heart.
[References: “Vroegherfs” (Early autumn) by N.P. Van Wyk Louw, “Die ruiter van skimmelperdpan” (the horseman from skimmelperdpan) by A.G. Visser, “Maria” by Elisabeth Eybers and “Ek sal opstaan” (I will rise and go to my father) by W.E.G. Louw.]
Tribhawan Kaul, 8 august 2012
Age never bothered her
She never showed her age
She was a new age women
Never to mind her age.
Proudly she went to a plaza
Fond of shopping home away
But came out just eating pizza
It had made her day.
Body searched her purse
Could not find her key
Also did not find her car
Nothing to giggle and glee.
Wrinkles showed on her face
As she approached a PCR*
Was directed to the police station
To file an FIR**
She returned home with satisfaction
Informed her hubby with some reservation
Shocked, he stood with a mug of beer
“ But honey, didn’t I... drop you there ?
“ did you drop me ? Oh God !
Oh Yes ! I forgot ;” stunned as she was
Then where is our car? exclaimed she
beckoning him to the window for the testimony.
Rushing out, found the gate open
dazed , both now looked aged
car was nowhere to be seen
thought they, finally it has been stolen.
Soon they were surprised
and had a hearty laugh
they saw their own son
driving in, to park.
Age do takes its toll
As one tends to forget
Kudos to those
Who laugh at the malady, without any regret.
----------------------------x------------------------------
*A mobile Police Control Room
** First Information Report
All rights reserved/Tribhawan Kaul/06-08-2012
Satish Verma, 8 august 2012
Perfect bridges for a fading light
taking you to dark caves
like fireclay in fake sorrows.
The superstition of a race pool
and unearthing the sacred temple
under a mount of lies.
In vitro a baby god sleeps
waiting for a butcher knife
impaling the hymn on thorns.
A silver lining for a black moon
who refused to walk away.
The stars were frightened and bewildered.
A corporal punishment was waiting
for the sun who neglected
his duty during sundown.
Satish Verma
Bob Gotti, 8 august 2012
The Artist behind the canvas above, the sky’s what I’m speaking of,
Stretched above so wide and blue, every day a painting brand new,
God’s painting above for all to see, painted by The Lord of Eternity,
The canvas above God’s Creation, visible by every man and nation.
He begins every day with the sun, The Creator’s Light for everyone,
Keeping God’s touch in mind, sometimes the sun He hides behind,
Those clouds, so white and full, all through The Lord’s creative rule,
When the Lord does paint the sky, which is seen through every eye.
God ends each day not the same, although the clouds may remain,
As night begins He paints the sun, well over this earth’s far horizon,
Turning the sky to a black canopy, to paint those stars that we see,
With the sun replaced by the moon, along with stars that are strewn.
This is just the sky above my friend, for God’s Creation has no end,
It goes beyond what we can see, for God is The Creator of Eternity,
But, what God chooses to display, is a witness to all nations today,
His witness that men come to know, The Lord above all men below.
God’s Creation, to all mankind, is The Creators testimony to remind,
There’s a Creator beyond the sky, One, Who created both you and I,
Whose witness creates accountability, for every person that can see,
That above man there is a Creator, Who sent Christ to be our Savior.
(Copyright ©06/2012 Bob Gotti)
Bob Gotti, 8 august 2012
Cancer is a real menace friend, which brings on an ominous end,
A time when suffering can be rife, with an early exit from this life,
This as life takes a major change, as many things stay the same,
Bringing much anguish to a family, in ways, they have yet to see.
Though cancer affects me and you, its menace has its limits too,
Limits on the devastating effect, upon those lives it has wrecked;
Regarding the victims, I speak of; cancer cannot cripple the love,
One’s love, that remains intact, despite cancer’s relentless attack.
Cancer cannot shatter our hope, as through it God helps us cope,
With The Lord’s sustaining grace, cancer cannot corrode our faith;
Though its ailing effects increase, cancer can’t destroy our peace,
A peace, that God instills in us, through the Spirit of Christ Jesus.
Though death may be cancer’s will, friendships cancer cannot kill,
Also, it cannot suppress memories, of loving friends and families,
As the ill effects continue to rage, cancer cannot silence courage,
For we know that this entire life, is truly sustained by Jesus Christ.
By this courage we don’t fear it, as cancer can’t conquer our spirit,
Though in a body it will take its toll, cancer cannot invade our soul,
Or lessen God’s Resurrection Power, even during the darkest hour,
As a member of the Body of Christ, cancer can’t steal Eternal Life.
(Copyright ©06/2012 Bob Gotti)
Bob Gotti, 8 august 2012
Do you survey each possibility, to reach Heaven for eternity?
There’s many ways you can find, out of man’s exalted mind,
Many teachers reach out to man, with another salvation plan,
Many say, every way my friend, will reach Heaven in the end.
Is there a God and who is He; is there a Heaven and eternity?
If so, is there also a Hell, and must we believe in Emmanuel?
Emmanuel, Who is Christ Jesus, which means “God with us.”
Sent by God and our Creator, to be for all men, their Savior!
Christ was sent to save Israel, also, every nation, every soul,
All, who would believe in Him, would be saved from their sin,
As by our sin we are condemned, and this applies to all men,
So all men, from every nation, need from God, His Salvation!
Jesus Christ, The Great “I AM,” came to earth as God’s Lamb,
To be God’s Perfect Sacrifice, paying for all His eternal price,
That debt, no man could pay, so The Lord provided The Way,
The Only Way, to Eternal Life, through His Son, Jesus Christ!
From God, there’s but one way, despite what man has to say,
For God’s Word is absolute, Eternal Truth, no man can refute,
Truth, The Word does claim, under Heaven there is one name,
By which men must be saved, Truth in which, Apostles raved.
(Copyright ©08/2012 Bob Gotti)
patty turner, 7 august 2012
She stands on the bridge.
Watching the water under her.
Thinking about everything she losted,
Then she jumped...
Every happy monment,
Every sad moment,
everything flashed before her eyes!
Then she hits the cold water with a splash.
She was spinning.
Around and around,
Feeling something warm on her chest,
She opens her eyes..
Seeing the one she loves holding her close
The last words she heard said...
"Why would you leave me?"
Gert Strydom, 7 august 2012
Alone he watches the water ripple,
without movement
he waits with the line going in quite deep,
in a moment
the muddy water stirs in little circles,
tense enjoyment
goes through the boy as line sings, starts running,
he jerks the rod, the fish jumps, it’s stunning
with its golden silver scales glittering,
it dips under
and the fight is on as it twists and turns,
quick like thunder
again it jumps and twists back to escape,
without blunder
the boy reels in, still better hooking it,
over the river fighting bit by bit.
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