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poetry

oluwatosin olabode, 24 october 2013

Can You

I need someone to talk to
But I have nothing to say
Hear me in my silence
As my heart pants in tears

I'm broken
I need strength, to say the least
Who's here to help me
I could really use a hand

Can't you sense my frustration?
I can really put d blame on everyone else
But no... I just need a hand to hold me
A shoulder to rest on
And a friend, closer than a brother...

I need someone to talk to
Someone without selfish ambition
Whose interest won't fade quickly
at the dullness of my worries...
A person setting aside ego
Just so he can hear me speak...
Can I please talk TO you?

number of comments: 0 | rating: 3 | detail

Gert Strydom, 24 october 2013

Glory be to God

Glory be to God
for all things bright and beautiful,
the lights everyone;
the rising and the setting sun,
the moon and all the stars

small flowers and huge trees,
the birds in the sky’s canopy
and everything that I can see
and that He made me free
to chose my own company.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Gert Strydom, 24 october 2013

The creation [3]

In His great arithmetic
and at a exact time
God spoke and the great wide world awoke
coming in effect to His exact design
at a instant as at chime
the earth as a revolving sphere
placed at the right spot in space
to circle around a bright hot sun
and every thing naturally falling in place
with nothing cosmetic,
all functioning as it was supposed to be
and when all was set and done
He made man, a free willed living being,
designed in His own image
and He was satisfied
that everything was well.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma, 24 october 2013

THE SILENT COLOURS

A mad resurgence of fake locks
paralyzes the arched doors of the hidden
walls, where the roses squirm under
the false kisses of a red moon;

they came again to police the blinds.
The mother digs up the charred body of
her son without singing the praise of
drifting star, till the scars become green.

It was the name of ivory grief, you never
know, when the blue milk turns malignant.
A hairy loss of heritage from the golden
heights of slumber. My constant truth

weeps without shame. This landscape
does not belong to ashes of broken history
of man. The delirium of war on laments
has wiped away the holding lights on shores.

Satish Verma

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Eva from Barcelona, 24 october 2013

Can I

Your hair is air

Is waves
Can I balance
Backwards
Forwards
Left
Rite
Into the sky

Can I sleep
Can I fly
Could I
Under your ocean sight

Deep
turquoise
aquamarine
Can I swim
Can I
please
Can I dream

Your allure is wind
Is light
Is pain
Can I breathe
Can I stay
Can I remain

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Geetima Baruah Sarma, 23 october 2013

ASSET

Do we analyse what we lack?
Do we judge where we stand?
We feel uncomfortable seeing others
Standing on pedestals.
We try to pull them down
Instead of pulling ourselves up.
A sand-clock looks
Half full and half empty.
Why not try to fill up the void?
Perhaps we lack an asset.
The asset of courage,
The courage to move forward,
To judge ourselves,
To assess where we lack.

[Published in 'Fire Bird Poetry' on 23 October 2013]

number of comments: 1 | rating: 3 | detail

Gert Strydom, 23 october 2013

It’s not the fault of summer

(“Though lovers be lost love shall not.”
Dylan Thomas)

It’s not the fault of summer
that the heat at a time does depart
and that it’s only limited to a season
but love that does continually burn high
like the summer sun
does endure against the timid mouldiness
of each season

and when the days of autumns comes,
when the coldness of winter slowly sneaks nearer
then the days turn around again
and in the years of old age
love still is strong

and when you and I are lost to each other
then there is a time and place
where our love finds us again
and brings us back to each other
as if our love has got an endless summer.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Gert Strydom, 23 october 2013

When words pull meaning to pieces

When words pull meaning to pieces
then I want to embrace you
and hold you gently against me
and by actions begin to say things to you,
pick a bunch of red roses from the garden
as a token of my love,

put more time into our being together
and bring colour to the continuous white of life,
try to bring healing to the scars of your youth
and cover everything that does bother
in a big hole in the ground.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma, 23 october 2013

* VELVETY RETURN

Like a dung beetle you were guarding
the tunnel, I will not let the ball roll away,

a grain of ache in my tooth.Why you had
to go, on cathartic release of mutual trust?

A stone in the heart, ice on the wings,
there will be a terrible crash today.

He died by his own hands, failing to reach
the ceiling of solid pain, trekking across

the memories in deep waters. The born depression
had the bride of moon without flesh, beyond the gaze.

A hand holds the sunlight reaching your eyes.
You may swim with fish in mid stream of death.

* On the death of Nicholas Hughes, son of Sylvia Plath in Alaska on 16th March 09.

Satish Verma

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Gert Strydom, 22 october 2013

Bird of the night

The blackbird of the night
covers the sky
and it’s rather dark
as if the stars are dim
and on this night some are gone
and there’s something electric blue
in its colouring.

Maybe the feathers
of a white breasted crow
with some clouds here and there,
some would say

or something more menacing
than a type of raven
is tonight in the air,
like a vulture
or some kind of giant eagle
with huge ripping claws,

but to me there’s lightning
that I see reflected in its coat
with blue-white bolts
flashing down suddenly

and later when the rain is gone
the sweet notes of a songbird
is in the air
and maybe the bird
in the sky tonight
is a very special one
that only exists in my mind.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

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Latest items:

poetry

Can You

Glory be to God

The creation [3]

THE SILENT COLOURS

Can I

ASSET

It’s not the fault of summer

When words pull meaning to pieces

* VELVETY RETURN

Bird of the night

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