poetry

poetry
Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 4 march 2015

No God has ever love as much as this

No whip has ever lashed
such an innocent man
who did choose to suffer punishment
as the Lamb of God
where He could have called upon
legions upon legions of mighty angels
to come to His aid.
 
No nails have ever pierced such mighty hands
that created all that is,
that controlled the wind and waves
brought healing, food and life
to mortal men.
 
No thorny crown was ever set
on a more noble head
as a mockery to being king
while He is and had been the Lord of lords
and even can wake up the dead
and His kingdom is everlasting
 
No God has ever love as much as this
and made the punishment of all sinners His
and soon in the clouds he will come
to take us to our eternal home
and with my own eyes I will see
His love and great mercy.


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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 3 march 2015

Lord

Lord, teach me to like a child cling to Your fatherly hand
and Lord, send your angels to daily guard over me,
to walk ahead on the way that I still do have to go
and teach me to trust on you unending love and


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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 2 march 2015

You burrow into my heart

I

You burrow into my heart
are up against the embankment of my goodwill
and it feels as if we will never be apart
as if you do not bare me any ill

and there is only ground and hard skin
set between the emotions of love that does remain
while you are centring in
with all the heartache and pain
 
that comes with life as it daily goes
and at times you do feel much to close.
 
My resistance is weak,
while I am trying to protect my own humanity,
are trying to regain my mental capacity
and I wonder what you do seek?
 
II

You are rubbing me mad,
are turning love into lust and desire\
and at times I am glad and other times sad
while you are driving to be one
with my central core,
are trying to secure me before I am gone,
are burning me with a kind of fire
that can destroy and also make whole
that needs and wants just more and more
and I see you eyes peering into my very soul
while I wonder if this is how love really is
and find something deeper in each and every kiss.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 2 march 2015

SALT LAKE

In my domain I am the child again
lost in labyrinth of stairways
unable to find my home.

A swarm of bees descends
gives anaphylactic shock
I am dead in my arms.

You carry a dead gorilla
on the makeshift scaffold,
somewhere a female was beating her chest.

Blood on the face of moon
my sobs will not stop
flowing in muddy streaks in pits of tattoos.

Eggs of blue bird were waiting
for the mother to come,
kids were on doormats.

It was always the salt lake.
No body was going to drown
wolves, sharks and men!


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grove

grove, 1 march 2015

An image of doubt

I have started to worry if you are a myth?
Unbelievable mind's glitch?
Maybe just a false prophet's trick?

Please... Answer.

Let it be quick,
because my time still keeps to tick-tock.
You need to talk!
And I need an answer,
I am begging as jester, otherwise,
I will become a real disaster. Promise?

It had to be, so I was made as image.
But maybe, it is an image of doubt.

Still, I wanted you, you to be,
to be my strength in darkness...
Now your silence feeds my dark side.
Maybe I am dark-side. Apocalypse.
And you won't deny it.

So be it,
if you will never speak,
I will never quit.
Out of mystic cube
of questions to prove.


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Mish Quadri

Mish Quadri, 1 march 2015

Drowning in your love

Drowning in your love
Drowning in your love
Sinking in the depths of my pain
Afraid to take a breath for fear of slipping deeper into darkness
My heart is shattered by the endless grief
I have lost this battle of my mind
My soul is begging for a reprieve from this bond that we share
Disconnecting from your touch
Breaking away from the ties that bind
Letting go of the soul that calls my name in depths of the night
Releasing myself from all that holds me here in this place
No longer can I allow myself to be
Drowning in your love


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Mish Quadri

Mish Quadri, 1 march 2015

As we were

As we were
As we were so long ago, here we are again
Time stood still yet so many moments passed us by
Unaware of the fire that would rage to the core of
Our souls.
Burning with the heat of a thousand Suns
It knows no boundaries, it delivers no judgment
It only knows to burn until the one that ignites makes its exit
Our souls know each beat of hearts in arms, knows the depths of which
the seed was planted and knows the path ahead
As we were so long ago, here we are again.


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Mish Quadri

Mish Quadri, 1 march 2015

The Path to Her Soul

The Path To Her Soul 
The path to her soul is written in the heavens....
in every star in the sky.
Only one soul with the grace of the Gods can reach the light that burns in the depths of her being.
Unconditional love is the language that her soul speaks.......
The One with the courage and strength of a hero can conquer the obstacles she has placed along the path of her soul.
The most ardent of hearts with the spirit of a master can envelop her.........
elevating her soul to a place of utter joy and peace.
There is only One that sings the song of her heart........
The only One that can walk the path to her soul.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 1 march 2015

PINK CITY

Burnt-out myths in the old city
are stitching the lips of people.
Pink walls smell like blood.

Priest is dumb, hoisting the headless
deity on throne. Marigolds
are soaked in flowing tears.

Innocent wheels riding against blast,
stand still to measure
the half-life of seizures.

Cult was spreading in place,
fingers and cells Dynasties inheriting
the bleached fathers.

The ages rot under the sculptors.
We walk on water, wordless, sightless
for the thin hope.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 28 february 2015

BECOME MY FATHER

He did not want to climb the spiral helix,
a son will be born without him.
He said I want to become my father
and see the decline.

How for shall we go to investigate?
An infant wrapped up in plastic explosive
was going to be presented on dais.
An unclothed carcass was lying between you and me,
body donated for the study
of failing restraints. How death would behave
in broad daylight?
The vasectomy did not work. Testosterone was
still flowing.

Reading Kafka, peanuts!
We have come near emptiness
of a tree, hollowed by white ants.


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