Latest items:

poetry

Joe Breunig, 4 april 2016

Poem: Better Than a Sermon

When each of us, reach another,
a soul can be eternally saved;
the path has been laid out and
you must be courageously brave!

Are you willing to die to self?
Can you access the mind of Christ?
Do others see that you live for Him?
Do you have… His everlasting Life?

Better than a sermon on your lips,
is a contented spirit of humility;
in Life’s brokenness, you can shine
with His Light and vulnerability.

Christianity isn’t for wimpy souls;
many have died, having been martyred.
Become born-again on this very day;
Faith with Christ, can’t be bartered.

Author notes

Inspired by:
John 3:7; Matt 28:18-20 and

You can preach a better sermon with your life than with your lips.
-Oliver Goldsmith

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Joe Breunig, 4 april 2016

Poem: Now, That is Faith

It’s too easy to trust God,
when Life is good, pleasant
and free of everyday strife.

When we’re comfortable, joy
is often experienced; lost is
sight of Him, Who gives Life.

Unfortunately, tragedy’s pain
is released upon us, whereby we
succumb to despair, unbelief

and the darkness that envelops
a World with sin’s rebellion.
We’re now unfocused; no relief

is available to our sad souls;
we’re swallowed by an evil that
stabs us… with merciless grief.

Calling Christ now, that is Faith-
when we choose to move forward,
rise up and reaffirm our beliefs

in the One, Who truly saves us.

Author notes

Inspired by:
Rom 8:28, 38 and

To trust God in the light is nothing,
but trust Him in the dark — that is
faith. -C. H. Spurgeon

Dedicated to the memory of D.J. Breunig

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Gert Strydom, 4 april 2016

A prayer (Sonnet)

(After Koos du Plessis)

Let me find a place of rest on this rough earth
that lies near to Your heart, as my best deeds do remain stained
and I do know the things that do draw me further and further from You
while daily I am involved in a fierce battle for survival.
Let me stay true step upon step in your footsteps
while Your wings do cover me continually
as every weak place in my heart I do know
and let Your life and your love become greater in me.
Lord, save me when from my own deeds I am lost once again,
at times perplexed do not know where to go
and when my own conceit and weakness do continually wound me.
Out of the depths of misery and pain You do continually come and fetch me
and all of my success, fame and what I do possess are only borrowed to me
while time does continually speed on with my shadow against the ground.

[Reference: “Gebed” (Prayer) by Koos du Plessis.]

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma, 4 april 2016

Open Your Bowels

On the road
negotiating a midnight blue
into the myth of rebirth,
putting death in dock.
to go or not go to beyond liberation.
Home, left far behind!

Leaving the house of desire and fame
I was ready to go for my chosen abandonment.

Life had become useless.
Debating had begun.

Ambulance was sitting idle on the keys.
Observer was being watched.

Septicemia. Venom has reached every
microcosm and physician was dead.
God was not mincing any words for dummies.

A lightening stroke was travelling
from head to toes.
Open you bowels.
Earth is crying.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Blueskipper, 3 april 2016

Redemption

For the love of god let me forget her
When I close my eyes I see her picture
When I sit alone I hear her whisper
Save me; take me away from this torture

How I wish my mind would cease to exist
If only her memories it would consist
The face, the voice, the feel, the kiss
For the love of god please help me resist

Beat once... and then my heart will skip a beat
Beat once... and then I will feel the heat
Beat once... I now accept my defeat
Beat once... *beep*

number of comments: 0 | rating: 3 | detail

Satish Verma, 3 april 2016

Toeless Journey

The hawk was always hatching
a pacer,
to spin the surveillance,

tampering the tracks of violence.
The haul was heavy. Moon and fishes
went on to spread the dragnet

striking gold from the liquid
denials. The sovereignity was
violated of a virgin god.

The rule of drinking was sidelined.
Kiss will survive after the death opens
the back door of a globe.

Dreams are exhausted. There will
be no comeback of a star player
in the game of bloody manipulations.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma, 2 april 2016

Cup Of Elixir

Without a collateral black magic,
nobody wants to start a currency
of silly thoughts.

All tears had dried up in eyes.
It was time to cry again for prudence.

The spirits of ancestors were dumped together
in a mass grave,
and we elaborated to groom
a new son of god,
after slaining all sane arguments.

Where was the need of pathos
for dying foetusus in wombs?
Let them remain unsung, untold,
we will purge our sins from our gowns later on.

An unprecedented situation has arisen.
Somebody shouted from the past.
came running like a bull
and spilled the cup of elixir.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Gert Strydom, 1 april 2016

On my birthday

(after Christina Georgina Rossetti written for the 3rd of April)

My heart feels like the morning breeze
that whispers through the flowering jacaranda trees.
My heart feels like a redbreast that dances before the rain
and sings its song of gladness again and again.
My heart feels like the first light of the breaking day
that burns intensely with happiness in each ray
but much more intense than these images is my joy
with the feelings that are between a girl and a boy.

Let I pray blessings to those that love and hate me
and from the iniquity of the my youthful past be free,
let my family and friends come from far and near
as there is much more to this day than does appear
as I am a grown man in the prime of my life
with a angel, companion and friend as my wife
and let there be rejoicing on my known earth
as my love is with me on the day of my birth.

[Reference: “A Birthday” by Christina Georgina Rossetti.]

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma, 1 april 2016

Cannot Open The Loop

When I am completely denuded
Of my tremors,
I come at peace with my skin.
Burnt by raw blaze of reality
The brilliant confusion of today.

Promising night
selects the partners of grief.
Vacantly I fix my eyes on stars.

The words will never convey the silence
the mystery of eternal search
amongst the ruins of dreams.

Tongue falters on recitation of factuality
Over coming the rage.
Fatal dichotomy of life and death
starts sleepwalking.

Gulf widens the shores
seeking in metaphysical depth.
Speech does not bring solace
mathematics cannot open the loop.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma, 31 march 2016

…………..Moves On

My altered sensorium goes berserk
when I hear four - letter words like nuke and kill,
love and hate, repeatedly.
The decrepit age full of abused prisms
deflects the sunrays for warlords.

Here I am ripened in pain of a withering syndrome,
collecting the live mushrooms
from rainwashed wastelands.
The primrose way of life did not agree.
To become untrue to the whiff and waft of summer dunes
was difficult and I remained entombed in scented air.
Phantasy was a beautiful garden for me.

Was it a desiccated, mental frame,
matured, but manic isolation from an aligned life?
or walking alone in a desert of hidden paths?
But I was my own tailor.

I presume,
evil must be alive in erotica,
the myth of erected columns in history to celebrate a victory.
My brow sweats when I start climbing the steps.

An identity crashed in mud
I felt a sense of depression, flickering off and on,
dying several times amidst the jasmines and bougainvillaeas.
Hiding in fog, a serial killer has been
nominated a blind judge.

Fainting and waking up with hallucinations,
sick in limbs, my journey starts
for violent similes, mindless but full of stops.
My words were not mine. The symbols ruled the day.

The past will always morph into future
but my present will be here
in my flights, weary but strong in veins,
My sun may be eclipsed for today
but the bright century moves on!

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

10 - 30 - 100

Latest items:

poetry

Poem: Better Than a Sermon

Poem: Now, That is Faith

A prayer (Sonnet)

Open Your Bowels

Redemption

Toeless Journey

Cup Of Elixir

On my birthday

Cannot Open The Loop

…………..Moves On

Latest comments:

contact with us