Milena Sušnik Falle, 20 september 2013
Življenje
na mojih ramenih
včasih zazveni,
kot brušen kozarec
rezan z diamantom -
na stičišču tistih senc,
ki potujejo z mano,
kot žeja
in glad.
Življenje
na mojih ramenih
včasih spodmakne
viseče dneve, poti…
tiste nepozabljene,
vrezane vase,
da v utvari pomislim,
kako meni poje,
zaljubljeni škržat.
Milena Sušnik Falle - Slovenija
(pesniška zbirka TEMPUS FUGIT - Čas beži)
Salvatore Ala, 20 september 2013
... neither God nor No-God
Louis MacNeice
Not clouds but burkas naked on clotheslines,
Hawksmoor gloom with Horus eye,
Warzone Luftwaffe left-over thunder,
Lions’ heads on building tops,
Quorum of the heavens… London fog
And a neighborhood in London fog,
The ghost of Hitchcock at the window
Of his house gave the shadow of a doubt.
Nothing was real, not buildings or streets.
Only a waking sleep from cab to cab
And a destination from which you depart.
Not clouds but statues wet in flesh
And veil, as in “The Winter’s Tale,”
Or the dead likeness of a changing guard.
North of the city an explosion; south, a beheading.
Astride the block a shadow slumps.
The head of God, a cloud in a basket.
Gert Strydom, 20 september 2013
Lord, You have promised
to let the bones rise again
and to bring them back to life
and everywhere people are robbed,
while death comes far too quickly in our country
as if evil touches everything
and around survival a struggle rages
while your people does stumble and fall
and everywhere bones are lying around
and work opportunities for my people
are stripped to the skeleton.
Lord, draw the line and erect my people again,
You have got the power
to let rulers and governments come and go,
to fold Your hands
around the bare bones of my people.
Lord, I ask that You do restore my people
to also be able to lead a free life.
Gert Strydom, 20 september 2013
Just once more I want to stand on my knees in front of You
and take all of the problems of my country to You
and maybe this suppression is necessary, Lord,
maybe now my people will now convert themselves
but Lord, some of my people die a cruel death
and many are jobless and in great need.
Lord, You do appoint leaders and governments,
You do determine the lifecycle of every human being
and of everything
and I beg that Your salvation will come
before I die in my years of old age.
My Lord, think of me, my nation and my country
and keep us continually in Your omnipotent hand.
Satish Verma, 20 september 2013
for beheading the raceme
three bullets went into the bubbling chest the assassins
had come when she was alone with scars
on wings she sailed on voices of silence the melody
had kissed the moon in night without veil it was
dark night for blue hills they killed a bloom
of white jasmines why are you upset my love
she has gone on orange wheels towards the sun
the black sea mourns by throwing the wreaths
back on shore to protect the virginity of fishes
and waves a bleeding god disowns
the green earth
Satish Verma
Joe Breunig, 19 september 2013
While seconds quietly and quickly elapse
under the consistent control of Time’s arrow,
the evil forebodings of Dread and vague fears
continue to lurk within Life’s long shadows.
Despite the existence of potential problems,
choose to disregard the negativity of fear.
Knowing that we are more than a conqueror,
charge forward under a Faith-filled atmosphere.
Approach the day with enthusiasm and expectation
that God continues to honor His Biblical Word.
Regardless of events, He will take care of His own;
look within to have your spiritual confidence stirred.
Speak holy words against the day’s difficulties.
Life’s worrisome ambiguities are sufficient for the day;
allow the Peace of Christ to supremely reign in your heart,
knowing that He eternally remains… the Life, Truth and Way.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Matt 6:25-34, 11:28-30; Prov 15:15; Rom 8:32;
Psa 23:4, 55:22; Num 23:19; Col 3:15; John 14:6
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.
Joe Breunig, 19 september 2013
Can you spot those wild zebras,
trotting across noisy plains of green?
Can you spy them with binoculars,
huddling together in familiar scenes?
Can you observe these wild zebras,
emblazoned with their traditional stripes?
Can you recognize distinctive patterns
of opposing colors of black and white?
Can you form an opinion regarding
the thoughts of wild zebras at play?
Can any semblance of ‘Fashion Sense’
force a duality of stripes to rule the day?
Can you number the size of the herd
or even call out specific zebras by name?
See their necks encircled by dangling whistles,
as they continue… to officiate the football game.
-Joe Breunig,
Poet/Author, Reaching Towards His Unbounded Glory
Gert Strydom, 19 september 2013
Sometimes it’s as if the sleep washes like a river over me
and then I have got this lost fear
when I feel you breathing against my neck
that this bliss will be our last
and the whole house is dark and silent
while my thoughts wander off to where they want
and when you suddenly turn around
I am afraid to share my thoughts with you
and then I lie still without a movement,
to have some more wonderful moments with you.
Gert Strydom, 19 september 2013
Sometimes your arrival is sparkling and catching,
sometimes the sparks of thunder smoulder in your eyes
and I want to run away like a rock-rabbit in the hills
but still I want to believe in the depth of our love
and when things between us are in disorder
then a struggle rages between you and me
and we say and do things that do hurt
and sometimes leave scars that stay
but even if there comes silences that are explosive
much more remains between us
and always we do find a much deeper meaning
when overwhelming wild our hearts do beat
when we become much more than only flesh
and our emotions, even our humanity are poured into each other.
Satish Verma, 19 september 2013
only the half-truths engage the
nightfall the thing of dawn asked to wait in pouring
blows sponsored by sin of brutal torture burning
the genitals pushing sand in mouth blood rimmed
stool I become you sit on eat your dinner howling
the election time you come hands folded
me a hummingbird suspended in air
waiting for the cage to open a little girl
punished to stand in sun carrying bricks on
shoulders slapped to fall unconscious give
me another sky to behold
restraint from whom
Satish Verma
Poetry
Prose
Photography
Graphics
Video poems
Postcards
Diary
Books
Handmade
