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poetry

Joe Breunig, 14 november 2013

Poem: Still Forgiven

O My Lord, there is no one vaguely like Thee,
Who has the ability to forgive me of my iniquity.

Failure to accept Your grace is a sin of pride,
since Your presence within me, can divinely reside.

Forgiveness is a powerful weapon for my wounded soul,
when I recognize that only You can truly make me whole.

Help me Lord, to rightly walk in love without hypocrisy;
help me observe the Christ - in everyone I meet and see.

Don’t allow poor, quarrelsome behaviors to rise up in me,
for ungodly uproars may create opposition to God’s decrees.

Remind me to be kind, gentle and tender-hearted to those,
who still suffer under the weight of sin’s deathly throes.

In the remainder of my days, I will continually confess,
that I’ve been cleansed of all traces of unrighteousness.

Despite my human imperfections, my spirit won’t be riven,
knowing that I am greatly blessed and… still forgiven!

Author Notes:

Loosely based on:
Matt 20:25-26; Acts 10:38

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.

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Gert Strydom, 14 november 2013

I remember you in the white hot sun

I remember you in the white-hot sun
with rays flaming
when you die shake your hair out
near to the small pond
in which the blue sky and clouds were reflected,
with the oak’s trunk
where morning glories are climbing up
and similar we are tied to each other.

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Gert Strydom, 14 november 2013

When I first saw you (cavatina)

When I first saw you something happened,
in a long glance
our eyes met and the old world decayed,
our hearts did dance,
nights full of perfume, spice was on the wind,
some sweet romance
suddenly was between us, like red wine
your lips shined while you looked divine.

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Satish Verma, 14 november 2013

FRUGALITY

wanted to send a call to me
sitting in a flowing traffic of life, a sinister,
sadistic happiness to see the disasters

coming home, in triangle of death,
for visitation of a nihilistic visual, the wedding
of taxidermal violence, at scope of frugal

clay, moulding the age of anxiety
because there were enough girls to be raped
and hunger was disconnecting the tribes

in camps, the bunkers were safe haven
for daunting, unremembered prodigal sons;
the vultures were dying daily,

you were outcast, a sleepwalker in dark,
confronting the boundaries of labiate palms

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 14 november 2013

FRUGALITY

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Renato N. Mascardo, 13 november 2013

autumn

like yellow butterflies
turning over tip to twig
leaves are cartwheeling down
towards winter //

renato
wednesday 14 november 2013

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Gert Strydom, 13 november 2013

When my darling comes to me

When my darling comes to me
in the street jacarandas are flowering
and I can smell jasmine and gardenia on the wind,
when with her body for moments see astounds me,

and red candles burn romantically in the window,
a table is laid out with snacks and champagne,
while se covers my face with kisses
with the glance in here eyes gleaming.

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Gert Strydom, 13 november 2013

Deeply astounding things (cavatina sequence)

(after Alfred, Lord Tennyson)

Wild and happy without any regret
are tears of joy,
that flows without any kind of despair,
without a ploy,
comes heartfelt but are indeed somewhat strange,
does not annoy
and does come flowing with each special thing,
when at times you do cry my dear darling.

As deeply astounding as the first love,
or body bliss
that is remembered after some time
a single long kiss
does convey a own intimate meaning
of what life is,
coming unexpected from your soft lips,
caries a true message along with hips.

[Reference: “Tears, Idle Tears” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.]

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Satish Verma, 13 november 2013

EMPTYING

perversity behind the orbs tilts,
scatters the fragile cohesion, a spectre
looms on the wrinkled face of an old tree,

the bee-eaters have flown away;
annual rings on wooden panels were defying the age
of smile on the mouth of bright doors

petitioning to the naked beams of body;
infusion of totality for antimutagens
of nude spiders weaving a lethal design:

the tender fall of deathless night on
forgetfull; I am ready to reach the bottom
of fear, bring out the poison for celebration,

unveiling the apes of tomorrow on the
black prints of dragonflies stumbling out
from golden words

Satish Verma

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Gert Strydom, 12 november 2013

Suddenly the day fades to twilight

Suddenly the day fades to twilight,
the bright blue sky become dull
and you and I become spectators
while down the street the wind blows dust
when the sun sets in magic colours,
when we see the colours of the night
and we hear doves coo on the roof,
see stars stretching out into eternity
and there is innocence in your eyes
that becomes big like those of a child
and suddenly I have an inability
to find the right words
while silence brings a own language
when the sun sets beyond the hillocks.

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Latest items:

poetry

Poem: Still Forgiven

I remember you in the white hot sun

When I first saw you (cavatina)

FRUGALITY

FRUGALITY

autumn

When my darling comes to me

Deeply astounding things (cavatina sequence)

EMPTYING

Suddenly the day fades to twilight

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