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poetry

Gert Strydom, 17 april 2015

Tonight

Tonight phosphorescence
is present over your body
while we walk in shorts
under a golden moon

and it is as if every firefly
is focusing
its tiny beam of light upon you
and your blouse glimmers
almost see-through
and there’s dozens of little lights
glittering in your hair
as if they are also flying there

and the sparkle in your eyes
outshines the stars
and your tender lips
are sweet beneath mine
and it feels as if I am dreaming
that a girl so divinely lovely is mine.

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Satish Verma, 17 april 2015

EXPLOSION

Spitting the blood, he said,
every winter for few days –
he would feel outcast and there was
pain in the idea of pain, but he wanted to live
without a painkiller.

Sometimes he will singe his hands on a flame
to protect his dignity. The history of his
unrest remaining untold. Then he will go
out in rains of knowledge and soak himself
in mixed joy.

A lump in the throat hurts, when he
tries to decipher a dream to measure
the life. A liar knows the complete death
of a truth to assert his independent existence
in myth.

A deadly poison of the choosing,
your own microclimate, aggrandizement
of royal tradition, makes you popular in masses.
They surge to touch your gown, ripping
the explosion.

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Salvatore Ala, 17 april 2015

Natural History

We are bone, love, we are earth,
Our breathing slows and we are stone.

We are flesh, love, we are spirit,
Our eyes close and we are mineral.

We are burial places, love, we are fire,
When we kiss the ice ages recede.

We are half lives, love, missing links,
When we touch the earth grows fecund.

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Joe Breunig, 16 april 2015

Poem: Finding Holy Ground

Finding Holy Ground frequently,
should be much easier these days;
isn’t it wherever we happen to go,
since His presence abides with us?
Haven’t we accepted His higher ways?

Are His precepts and promises hidden,
inside the stony temple of our hearts?
Do we desire to mesh our wills with His?
Are we making proper, daily sacrifices
of attitudes- without being torn apart?

Can our speech be free of covetousness?
Will we learn to be completely content,
boldly knowing The Lord is our helper?
Can we get over the irrational fears
that may usurp His Grace and circumvent

the holy plans and purpose given to us?
Are we bowing daily to His authority?
Can we listen to Godly conversations,
without be offended by our ignorance?
Wherever we go, we must realize and see

that we are standing on holy ground-
for the Earth still belongs to the Lord.
Therefore, let’s raise clean hands overhead
with genuine praise before Him, seeing…
that He remains worthy of being adored!

Author Notes

Inspired by:
Heb 13:5-8; Isa 55:8-9; Psa 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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Gert Strydom, 16 april 2015

Little princess in a glass box

Your dad says proudly that he did design you himself
and your eyes, nose and mouth are genetically from him.
Your mother says that she is your own breeding machine,
the paediatrician says that you may go home tomorrow
and it is much more than just a maybe.

I am astounded by you small long body
where you are laying in a glass box with a blue light
and we would not want it any different
where you are growing at the speed of wind
and your eyes are covered by minutely small sunglasses
against the sharp light that is blinding you
and your grandmother wants to pull you much closer.

Fragile and brittle you lay and wait
where the machine is doing its work to the following day.

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Satish Verma, 16 april 2015

FABRIC

Throwing the prosthesis, he jumped for
numericals, refusing to expand,
walk with father of sorrow
the revolutionary.

He wanted to talk as an equal
in interpretation of truth about death
and God, the new incumbent
of faith.

An aptness to spill the blood on
your face, of some recent slaughter,
as a witness of dying for peace,
as soothing law of nature.

He wears the fabric of inspiration:
the city and streets are empty
weaving the welts of pain,
for nothing.

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Satish Verma, 15 april 2015

EXPERIMENTS

Poaching on the brooding landscape
you crashed while scaling the flame.
A togetherness became a half-truth.
How troubled
I had been for basics.

Then shifting loyalties for petty things
you were holding up my soul,
and I did not move with the changing times.
For the rivers
to walk with green trees.

If the words had the answers
to rebel against the eternal guilt,
to beat the death with pain.
Fighting
for the faded truths.

My experiments with lies will continue!

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Gert Strydom, 15 april 2015

I do like appreciation

I do like appreciation
and of it I can never get enough.
Not just to say thank you
but to know that you are thinking of me.

As a mark of your love
it can forever stay with me
and I do like your words:
“you are everything to me.”

But I also believe in deeds
that can gladden my heart
if you can
just give me something
that I know comes from your heart
-to treasure and to keep-
and it will bring you nearer here to me.

Just any thing that you do possess,
even if it is small in value
to me is more than anything here on earth
and I am asking
for something to express your love for me.

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Gert Strydom, 14 april 2015

Though the night passes too soon

Though the night passes too soon
and the brightness of the moon
fades too quickly with day’s light,
stars disappear
as if they are not anymore shining bright

to you I will forever be near
while you hold me dear
and my loving will not be roving,
but will be true and sincere.

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Satish Verma, 14 april 2015

MAGESTIC INNOCENCE

How far? How far the goodness will survive?
Born to suffer, a troubled mind
was punished, for melting down.
Livid with revenge sun bleaches
the man made God, a personal anger.
Executioner was on the street
lighting bonfires of your principles.

A silent hope revolts, like green fire,
evergreen, possessing the pride spurts
of hot flames, as the age grows,
the grieving will stop, and when the borders sleep,
it will rise on the horizon, a new moon on
a majestic innocence
of pure hills in sky!

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Latest items:

poetry

Tonight

EXPLOSION

Natural History

Poem: Finding Holy Ground

Little princess in a glass box

FABRIC

EXPERIMENTS

I do like appreciation

Though the night passes too soon

MAGESTIC INNOCENCE

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