Latest items:

poetry

Satish Verma, 31 march 2015

FATE OF THE KEY

Watching the charred remains
of the toys
you want me to search for another house.
Eventually I decide
to go for a voiceless door.

Who was calling whom?
Eternity hurts me.
I want to come to a stop,
pause for the evening
and climb up the hearse.

A howl is waiting for me
to engulf me in myself.
The blind statement will sit as a judge
and decide the fate of the key.
I cannot open the lock!

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

steven cooke, 30 march 2015

Field Of Dreams

(World War One Poem)

Field OfDreams
The World has stated our freedom,
the worms shall share a soldier's fear.
To look above my trench
is to be a thief in the night.
Life shall lurk, afraid of what is above.
.
My brothers wait for their moment
the maverick shell will deal the deck.
The queen of spades shall flirt with all,
hoping to sear our blood against this iron of hate.
War treats victims with the vindictive pain of foe
for non are welcome to this battlefield.
.
The steam from burning bodies is wine to the party,
this thrill of reality a true Russian roulette.
A link between man and beast,
for we all take part in this unifying glory of slaughter.
.
Refugees are we
the artists and the poets,
fraudsters and scam artists
We manipulate waist paper and propaganda,
for the legacy of death is ours.
.
Bully beef is king for contentment is rare,
we give thanks to cattle sacrifice.
I share existence with comrades temporary,
my ghosts exist In Gods lungs.
Their memories haunt my sanity
the last sinner's refuge to comrades condemned,
for we shall never tell the truth.
.
We are and were common men,
obedience is what we do.
Threatened by a lieutenant boy,
but all will cry this night.
.
No home shall know this fear,
for we are the blood of England.
Our betters will try and sanitise our demise
in poppies and salutes,
which will heal in public memory,
but poppies are meant to bloom
not to fall from cathedral skies.
.
Pour our blood on sacred earth,
drink, disciples of this last supper
for our humanity resides in you.
Paint your galleries in gallant charge
and hold the hand of fallen stars.
Unknown corpse shall not linger in
the spirit must moves on.
.
Life is fleeting, the logistics of killing a fact.
Blood will dry before a baking sun
or hide in in monsoons quagmire
and somewhere in the lost,
lies a forgotten smile
a lover's heart and a dream
of a generation gone.
.
Dreams belong to our time,
and forever is a deity dream.
Do what you will with this gold.
Fill your coffers with tomorrows hunger
for harvests will come again.
.
Our final moment has arrived,
a cold micro second within a distant universe.
We are ready to leave this trench,
talk is quenched by silence.
.
The voice of shell will play the stage.
Maim and confirm the kill,
in the light of demons
and give your applause to God.
.
Blood will sign the death certificate
and the reaper will overplay his hand.
An easy day for him, for this is the tsunami of man.
The reaper wil dance on the corpses surrendered,
though he still has to tango with flies,
for they have no respect for him.
.
The lead will rant a blazing tune
like lovers ill matched,
arguing who shall live or die.
.
Daffodils felled for market,
a mothers day greeting in the morning post.
And the milkman will deliver the milk
to doorsteps old and new.
.
The tears will be washed in corporation water
for the lead pipes have not yet been stolen,
and the trams pass by oblivious.
For grey faces dead read the law of man,
humanity need another day.
Another hero insanity dictates,
for tomorrow promises to be
another glorious day.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Irena, 30 march 2015

If I could

If I could close my eyes
It would be to see you

If I could change my skin
It would be to touch you

Never yours
Never mine
The sky is just a blue paper
spread above our heads!

number of comments: 0 | rating: 2 | detail

Satish Verma, 30 march 2015

AGAIN FALLING IN LOVE

I don’t belong to me,
to you, to her, to him.
Who are you, I ask myself
again falling in love for a tender shoot,
uncoiling under the debris of unfaithful corners?

I was watching a small birdie
hopping against a mirror, cracking the beak
to kill a rival.

She was pulling at my arm
white death in red scarf.

This is for you my fellow-traveller,
a beautiful sector of my hidden garden,
where I have permitted you to come for a walk.
Hand in hand we will watch the peerless evening –
sitting on the wings of gulls.
Will you like to break a promise
before I implode on the moon?

You light the earthen lamp daily under a tree,
to possess me, trap me, digest me. Voicelessly
I melt into smoke, fly away in small huffs.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma, 29 march 2015

CLOSE THE CIRCLE

Why are you packing up for final journey?
I am not getting the signals from the stars
through the amnesia. The moon will rise
on the desolate landscape of broken dreams
A shudder gives away. You always pursued incompleteness.

So the striving continues, for wholeness,
without sitting in meditation, remaining restless,
churning, agitating, creating comets on the lips,
touching the tulips, red roses, scented air,
traveling all alone through the black memories.

Talking to yourself in emptiness, wading in the
green eternity to find pure, unblemished truth,
the secret of eternal youth. Which fear had
perverted my vision? Why should I be afraid
of meeting you in me? Cannot I maintain my.

Integrity? The wheels are moving and your
gifts are lying unclaimed. Where do we meet?
No temple is safe. A foreign land where the
clouds bleed and sun unloosens the threat,
I will seek to close the circle.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Joe Breunig, 27 march 2015

Poem: Invite, Thank, Trust and Serve

What is it, that really stops you,
from inviting Christ into your heart?
Are you afraid of the responsibilities
or opportunities that can be imparted?

Have you taken quality time to thank God,
for the many blessings you’ve received?
How do you describe your current lifestyle-
living victoriously or partially relieved?

Where are you placing your trust each day?
Do you posses false hope in World systems,
or Hope in the principles of The Holy Word?
Where are you searching for the valuable gems

that will sustain your entire, life journey?
Are you energized with a real, Christian verve
that motivates your ongoing actions of Faith,
from knowing The Lord, Whom you daily serve?

Before it’s too late, open your heart to Him.
Take personal stock, look back and thank Him.
Open your eyes, look around and serve Him.
Look ahead via His Spirit and trust… in Him.

Author Notes

Inspired by:
Rev 3:20; Psa 95:2-3; Gal; 3:6-9; John 12:26;
Rom 1:18-20

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

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

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma, 26 march 2015

AUBRURN DAWN

I believe, I had not arrived
when you were arbitrating
between naked steel and the truth.
Violence were you. I was watching
the burning pyres in a row. Small hands
were collecting the ashes,
casting glances on the falcons.

Why reincarnation of the reaper again and again
arching the helpless life in terror?
Half-filled cups of tears are spilled
on the marbled smoke.
We made the truce with slaughter
in moonlight pitying the survivors in sun.
The face watching from the window disappears.

An auburn dawn wakes with swollen eyes.
I might find a lost child of the empty womb –
wandering in wilderness of three dimensional sorrow.
O mother! somewhere the roots are waiting!

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma, 25 march 2015

DISTANT VOICE

Today I will shed my body
and meet you halfway at watery address.
My eyes were not blinking to hold the clouds.

To live or not to live was a great pain.
Two small hands and two bubbling eyes
glued to a broken wall was my hope.
And glitter of the road,
fallen trees,
dead panther,
had sacrificed my sun.

I think I live to die daily,
and die daily to live again
over the enormous property of shame.

Melting in my own blood
I was becoming dark.
The night was dancing on my sadness.
Now it was me, shaking in remoteness
of a distant voice!

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Irena, 24 march 2015

Kites

We had no need to speak
Had no need to talk
To eachother
To every other
Like children chasing kites
We think our words are dragons
that spit fire
so we keep them to ourselves,
fearing and aching

But one day,
The ache will go away
Our thoughts will become bigger than us
and we will use them as our shields
The kites will fly away
The dragons will die
Words shall remain
And we will tell them to eachother.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma, 24 march 2015

MESSAGE WRITTEN OFF

Any need to stitch an acid,
bare designed, in endoplasm,
when moon was walking like a full-breasted bride?
The synthetic feat was neat and clinical,
yet I want to turn back and talk about
something which heals the spirit of winged sorrow.

Marrow implant blooms like pink dough.
Can you walk straight,
think clean?
Organs for sale; mannequins are real flesh, bones, heart.
Roasted incense of sick birds floats –
you become a possessed iris.

Can you do something?
My limbs are aching, terrific pain.
Want to run like a stricken buck,
go for fasting like a schizophrenic,
become a letter undelivered
and message written off!

What is the truth then?
I cannot afford to accept the defeat!

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

10 - 30 - 100

Latest items:

poetry

FATE OF THE KEY

Field Of Dreams

If I could

AGAIN FALLING IN LOVE

CLOSE THE CIRCLE

Poem: Invite, Thank, Trust and Serve

AUBRURN DAWN

DISTANT VOICE

Kites

MESSAGE WRITTEN OFF

Latest comments:

contact with us