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poetry

Joe Breunig, 25 june 2015

Poem: Baptism

With baptism, one identifies with The Christ,
mirroring His death, burial and resurrection;
in this symbolic gesture of Faith, one sees a
formal acknowledgment of His gift of Salvation.

This practice, instituted by John the Baptist,
teaches one to reflect on the sacred sacrifice-
that Christ -alone- redeemed all of Humanity
and that His unequaled actions will suffice

as the second Adam, for our enduring redemption.
Even Christ Himself, took this symbolic plunge.
Was this a mere watery dunking of His flesh?
Or did it prepare Him… to be able to expunge

the death penalty of sin for us permanently?
Therefore, I honor His act of propitiation-
by the baptism of my body before witnesses,
as I’m initiated today… into His Holy Nation.

Author Notes

Inspired by:
John 3:25-36

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

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.

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Joe Breunig, 25 june 2015

Poem: Blessed Solitude

Another day has dawned
and I find myself alone-
although I’m not lonely,
I’m drawn unto His throne

by the blessed solitude
of being in His Presence.
This indescribably peace
of spiritual pleasance…

fuels my unsatisfied hunger
for only the Divine things,
that serve my earthly purpose
to honor my righteous King.

There’s no greater treasure,
than spending personal time,
ascending the spiritual climb
with Him… at Heaven’s shrine.

Author Notes

Inspired by:
Psa 118:24

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

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.

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Satish Verma, 25 june 2015

Second-Hand Event

Movement spurts the truth-
an endless journey.
The constant search for beliefs creates confusion.
Craving and wanting
generates more conflicts.
The meaningless life drifts.
Can you go beyond your dreams,
beyond your yearnings?

I wanted to disagree with death
the ultimate truth.
Life had many connotations,
there was no deliverance from reflections.
No freedom from trepidation
ego was the last refuge.
The ending of self
did’t take you to liberation.

Urremitting flow of time
awakens your soul.
Stillness of thoughts opens
the muted doors of meditation.
It suddenly transports you to the otherness.
You are not your name.
The indulgence to self
becomes a second-hand event.

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Satish Verma, 23 june 2015

Legend Withers

I do not display, but am.
Where the heart lies.
In truth. I try to discover the centre
of sorrow and bliss.
Life has not given
me full text of death.
The shadows are larger than reals.

You will not remember me
in endless night.
I am going on a long journey
to find out what is death of a name
the death of a prayer,
and ending of self.
The naked helices of truth are blazing.

Death of a dawn
some thing dies in me.
I don’t grieve.
The frozen pain melts,
legend withers.
The shadow is liberated from image.
The sadness leaves the fingerprints on my face.

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Satish Verma, 22 june 2015

My Children Of Sorrow

It was there all the time
the core fear, my inadequacy.
Tonight I will let go off the fire
and become a non-moving time.

When you come home for the arousal,
under the lids, you will find giant tears
frozen into a lake of no return.
Watch your steps and walk gingerly.

My unlocked door always welcomes
the incendiary past, pure happenings.
To return the clothes worn by the truth
on the night of gang rape.

It does not go, my nameless agony.
My children of sorrow, where will
they go? The scars?
I scan the sky.

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steve, 19 june 2015

"Just Pretend"

Its safe to say.. you'll never know, just what I feel inside...
You'll never know the lonely nights.. or see the tears I've cried,
And you'll never have to wonder.. why you feel this way...
Or hide the shame of who you are.. for fear they'll know your gay,
You'll never have to live a lie.. or pretend your what, your not...
But you'll always hear the reasons why.. they deserved just what they got,
You'll never have to just pretend.. how happy that you are...
While the only place you feel at ease... is some seedy down town bar,
You'll never have hear the words.. " a choice, that you have made"...
While making death a cheaper price.. than what we have to pay,
Things you take for granted.. are things I'll never know...
With so much hate for those like me.... were not allowed to go,
I'll never have "that special day" .. to proclaim my love out loud...
And no one will ever call me "Dad".. or want to make me proud,
I'm not afforded all the rights... that you enjoy each day...
And there are places.. you don't dare.. to let them know your gay,
If hate and fear are nurtured... just how can we progress?
As children take there lives each day.. for what they can't confess,
And how many lives must be lost.. before the world will see...
Your born with the heart you carry.. its not what you chose to be,
Open your eyes, I'm your brother.. your sister.. a friend that you knew...
Let go of the hate and the anger.. and what you'll see looking back is you.
sg

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Gert Strydom, 17 june 2015

Cherishing

When your fingers steal upon
my spinal cord
and your naked beauty
is soft and hot against me

and I can feel your heart beat,
even can feel you breathing
then I do know how wonderful it is
to love you
where you are laying closely against me.

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Gert Strydom, 16 june 2015

When we find each other in a matchless way

When we find each other in a matchless way
and do bond in a age old way
then there is some vulnerability
when we are blinded in each other

while it feels as if our love and infatuation
brings greater wonder
as if our hearts and souls in affection
without modesty

do reach out to each other
and wonder draws us still much closer.

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Satish Verma, 16 june 2015

Retrieve The Moon

He did not depart
or reached anywhere,
and did not realize himself.
When words could not find the meaning,
where the man will go?

He thought he did not believe in ‘why’,
the limits of purpose,
dictating the sentence.
Stones were still floating on the sea
and he was standing on a shipwreck.

Thinking and unthinking do not solve the mystery
of human turnings,
the malignancy of artificial intelligence.
A rebirth of enlightment can take over?

The objectivity becomes the subject.
You trot on the grass
to retrieve the moon,
fallen midnight.

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Gert Strydom, 15 june 2015

Like a cat you lay curled up against me

Like a cat you lay curled up against me
and your arms do surround me,
are like shoots around my body,

one hand is on your buttocks
and sleepy you move nearer to me
so that the points of your nipples
are pressed into me

and your smell fills my nose,
your breath blow against my neck
when you draw my still closer to you
and sleep does take us away from each other.

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Latest items:

poetry

Poem: Baptism

Poem: Blessed Solitude

Second-Hand Event

Legend Withers

My Children Of Sorrow

"Just Pretend"

Cherishing

When we find each other in a matchless way

Retrieve The Moon

Like a cat you lay curled up against me

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