Latest items:
poetry
Joe Breunig, 9 february 2017
Poem: Eternal Dialog
The relationship between Christ
and Yahweh is an eternal dialogue;
a constant communication ensures
His intercession isn’t a backlog
of burdens, borne out of the pain
He suffered and endured at Calvary.
Having been clothed with the dust
of Humanity, He understood beauty
that’s found in our soul’s nature.
After all, we were made to worship
Him openly, freely and easily, with
an unfeigned heart of fellowship.
Made in His image, with the idea
to reflect the Godhead’s purpose
of living and loving everyone, we
delve beneath humanity’s surface
to discover… our identity in Him!
Author notes
Inspired by:
Gen 1:26; Rom 8:27, 8:34
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
Satish Verma, 9 february 2017
A River Flows Underground
That was unscarred night.
The full moon was rising.
A contagium had spurred it to go high.
A brazen assault bleeds
the painter's eyes. He sees only
red in the pubescent rage.
She walks out of the stain,
turning into ash, urchin's
brightest moon.
Standing on the crossroads
who was burning clouds?
Rains will never come again.
Phylogeny flattens the guns.
We were hiding behind the
rituals watching the fall of light.
I will make my own truce
with death. I refuse to walk
under the belly of smoke.
Satish Verma, 8 february 2017
Options
Enemy was within;
invisible,
biting into iris.
Sea was asking,
would you like to sign
on my waves?
I was carrying
the relics. Body wants
to take revenge.
Lifting a kiss
from your lips.
O my death,
I am
living again;
changing the clothes.
A swarm of honey bees
was decending,
near a volcano.
Satish Verma, 7 february 2017
Unsung Hands
How can you unsee an etched wound?
The name will tell the moon.
An empty sky now calls for
the rains.
What was it-
the ceremonial farewell?
A dependable pain now starts
pulling out the sharpnels from the body.
You may call it
meaningless. My poem now
moves between the stings. Somebody
was going for a merciless kill.
Satish Verma, 6 february 2017
Body Script
Does it stir you,
a body bag?
Journey of million years
stops here,
decoding the numbers.
A humming bird
inflight catches a dilemma
before the sun sets on the
whirring wings.
The moon will never be the same.
Hanging by a thread
a suicide bomber memorializes
the unhealing land.
Who will cry
when he is gone?
Satish Verma, 5 february 2017
Morphed
What a long friendship with
moon!
I refuse to accept the blast.
Papa is dead, he said and
latched on to circularity.
I don't seek the interbreeding
with terror.
It was me in reverse mode
of cryptomania.
Too stoic; stop. I think
I am wrong; stop. And a serenade
for the lady luck. This life
was too much for me; stop.
Androgynous.
The female body wants to eat
maleness, by almond eyes.
The old man was walking barefoot
with a paintbrush.
Satish Verma, 4 february 2017
Furious Wounds
A hoot at midnight
goes challenging the deaf.
You strip to bones.
The dawn persists:
Will the sun on the sea
kill the dreams?
Do you see the gap
between the clouds?
I am going to make a heap of
all the interstitial escapes.
Flesheaters were scrawling on
the cheeks. A revolution of
wheels has failed.
A baby dies in womb
without A leap into future.
The father carries the burden
of chimneys.
A godless moon laughs
at the stupid earth,
which was talking about stars.
Satish Verma, 2 february 2017
Glitches
It was more than
I could take.
The phallic paranoia.
Can I come out of
your body and kneel
before death?
Less than dark
I dream of the nipples
spurting out venom.
A pumice raft
of the crowd, sailing
on the waves of narcissism.
Invisible sharks
on high seas
open the lambs for salt.
Can you eat your
words please?
There is nothing left on the plate.
Satish Verma, 1 february 2017
Self-Watch
Have not crossed the street
in many years
to greet you.
A slice of moon
leaves footprints in blood.
Maintaining the perfection
you start giving names to trees.
Paraplegia:
you start dismanteling the life
in search of romance with death
for immersing the dreams.
Take hold of my arms
I want to invent your portrait
in sands of nocturne.
Drink the milk of silence.
It is dark, but soothing.
Go to sleep.
Satish Verma, 30 january 2017
Walking Toeless
Stone by stone you kill me.
Petal by petal I die -
holding a scalpel
to unwrite my name.
Violence
erupts among words.
A temple breaks.
O goddess! don't cry beyond silence.
The infant's milk
spills in darkness.
Antiquity raises a wall
around the mother.
I am vanishing now,
freezing my assets.
Latest comments:
31 december 2025
ais
Szczęśliwego :)
31 december 2025
Jaga
Gdzie tu się schować? Wieś nie lepsza od miasta.
31 december 2025
wolnyduch
Tak, myślę podobnie... Miło mi bardzo gościć
31 december 2025
Niestety masz rację i to jest przykre. Dzięki
30 december 2025
AS
nie powinno się oceniać autorów, ale tematy
30 december 2025
Miłość nie jedno ma imię :))
30 december 2025
Ja próbuję :))
30 december 2025
Dwie drogi. Świata, który odchodzi pomału
30 december 2025
Weronika
Źdźbło w oku Różewicza.
30 december 2025
violetta
Aż tak nie rozpoznaję zwierząt:)
30 december 2025
Mama z synkiem, któremu już wyrosły małe
30 december 2025
Cudaki:)
31 december 2025
wiesiek
30 december 2025
Jaga
27 december 2025
marka
27 december 2025
marka
27 december 2025
marka
27 december 2025
marka
27 december 2025
marka
27 december 2025
Jaga
27 december 2025
Jaga
25 december 2025
wiesiek