poetry

poetry
Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 4 july 2016

Dear Lord God

Omnipotent Father who are from evermore,
who knows the future as if it had happened before,
on whom the sands of time has no effect
let we pray to you with the respect
that belongs to a deity,
while you do set us from all life’s perils free
and daily in this evil world as we do dwell
let us each other of a father’s love tell.
 
Holy loving Son who did come to live upon this earth
astounded the universe was at your birth,
when you did begin your redemption plan
and the Prince of Peace became a mortal man
who paid with his life sin’s cruel cost
and salvation came to all sinners that were lost.
Your kind of love that is selfless is hard to comprehend
where you do love past any obstruction right to the end.
 
Great Spirit who hovered over the dark unknown deep
with matchless power you do the future keep
when in the hearts of men you do speak with love
and do a work that no one can remove,
let us remember in how our lives we do live
that you do countless blessings give
and when you do make us of our sins aware
let us follow our conscience and of our evil deeds beware.
 
Great Trinity that came to be by ways unknown
your presence in this world is shown
by nature’s beauty and the tender care
that is present everywhere
and when men do their own way go
may they of your presence know
and turn back to the righteous way
while they live in your loving care day by day.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 4 july 2016

Lone Journey

Goats and camels 
My caravan moves on sand dunes 
to cross the desert of hunger and want. 
 
Give a sharp prick 
draw the pure blood 
and don’t cry at the sight of violence 
in the sky 
I am not going to die. 
 
It is galloping dark 
there is absolute stillness in the air 
and I have fallen in love 
with the whistling breeze. 
 
Somebody is pawing, clawing at my back 
as if trying to maul 
the back of a denuded totem. 
Moon is watching helplessly. 
 
An owl on a branch 
looks straight, flaps 
flies away. 
 
Unpeeled clouds are now walking away. 
Dew will settle 
among the thirsty fields.
 


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Joe Breunig

Joe Breunig, 3 july 2016

Poem: Rise Up

As Children of The Almighty,
we have the God-given ability
to rise up, without the shame
of knowing who we really are,
despite our souls’ fragility.
 
Have we been taught and shown
Love, Mercy, Grace, Forgiveness
and Peace that we require daily?
So what is holding us back now,
from overcoming this human mess
 
of feeling inadequate or ignorant?
About 90 of The World is headed
towards Hell, unconvinced about
the legitimacy of the Christian
Lifestyle, whereby God’s embedded
 
His Presence and power is in us.
We’re not meant to be superfluous,
seeing that we’re supposed to be
both the hands and feet of Christ.
So The World remains nonplussed,
 
plagued by their own doubts, which
is reinforced by our poor treatment
of them; our continued failures to
walk in Love, reflects our inability
to thrive with joyous contentment.
 
 
 
Author notes

Inspired by:
Luke 10:19; Eph 1:3-141 Cor 12:27;
Rom 12:9-21; Matt 5:13-16

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

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 3 july 2016

Morsels

Talking of nameless and unhappy death 
I resume the pathos of recluse 
if not, what do I do after the sunset? 
 
The shadow themes are picking up 
and I am saying, 'No, I cannot do it, 
may not do it, will not do it.' 
I have been a drifter, did not grow roots 
between the desire and wish. I had been 
hopping from a thing to nothing. 
 
Pretending my privilege, I ask the periwinkle 
how do you do it, 
remaining evergreen? 
A smile spread on the calyx 
the kind of a rainbow. 
That was the answer. 
 
No trace of bitterness, just the innocence 
after many hurts. Life prods, life knocks, 
natural and unfathomed pain. Must it leave 
a scar? Live as you are, I say. 
 
The blackened bread, the fudge, 
whatsoever comes on the way 
the flavor should be sweet. 
They are morsels of confession.
 


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 2 july 2016

Verdict

The point was, he had swallowed 
the pawn. 
The world rips apart 
and ultimate wintering 
sets in. 
 
Shy of one truth, 
the hour of reckoning demands 
the blood facts. 
You could have destroyed 
me if I were to sing. 
 
There were no crisis. Dismemberment 
went on to squeeze honey 
from the hapless victims chanting 
Hail Mary. 
I sizzled in vain. 
 
Choking on your trumped up 
victory, you will break in the house 
to find the silver god stolen from 
a golden mantel. 
 
You climb on a tall tree and 
then disappear in clear blue.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 1 july 2016

Retreat

Remember it not. 
Oblivion, 
Let it slide into cave. 
The annual rings of old wood are 
hurting. 
Tree of life burning inside. 
 
It cannot happen 
it can happen. 
There is no certainty. 
this is certainty. 
 
Bread with hoofs 
no butter, no udder 
no milk. 
 
A spider in the bottle 
slumbers on gaint legs 
watches with red eyes. 
Time to feed. 
 
The aroma of sea. 
Pungent smell of brown algae 
the bathing moon, 
a lone boat. 
 
Did you know why I admire defeat, 
retreat: 
Perfect solitude, 
featureless calm.
 


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 29 june 2016

Travelling To Moon

Blood and bones 
become qualification 
watching and being watched. 
 
Eyes in introspection 
incubation 
waking the black dawn. 
 
Anguished 
blank stares, after dispossession 
collapse on the hills in confusion – 
 
umpteen times. Ontogeny 
repeats filial love 
after parental loss. 
 
Monofloral we stay, 
you cannot do anything 
except to collect the honey. 
 
Shot in the face, my name. 
The next tragedy 
begins at home! 
 
Break the cutlery 
there is no water, 
frogs will not jump today. 


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 28 june 2016

…… Small Gods

Shared my solitude, gave me comfort, 
the road, my prelude to a long journey 
moved with me. 
 
Sensual saints had a break midway 
bolting the stars, when bruised arms 
were building the shelter. 
 
An offering to genius was not accepted 
cold blooded murder of a dream. 
Overnight my hair turned white 
a genuine tale was twisted. 
Absence of’me’ was not a meaning of death. 
I was learning to live. 
 
Can you tell me, what is time? 
The clocks are crazy, do not slow down, 
end was near without stopping, 
The spirit was moving through formless door. 
Everything was lost in space, the space 
and unfolding were becoming one. 
 
I was talking to prisnors of small gods 
a snuffed lamp, living voice and beasts.
 


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 27 june 2016

Wish Rags

Into the dark enters the blue; 
a homeless song punctures the cloud: 
gentle grass was never so green. 
 
The colors start fading 
there was no other movement. Sun strides in. 
No going, no coming of pain. No propitiatory 
prayer of mine or yours. 
I seek the wisdom of a tree. 
 
Like hawthorn collecting the wish rags 
fluttering in desert flora. 
A husband, a father, a patriarch 
in heart of conception, malice for none. 
 
Give we some peace of Ash, 
rebirth of thinking, 
return to being, 
burnt out self.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

B.Z. Niditch

B.Z. Niditch, 27 june 2016

IN A TREASURE TROVE

In a treasure trove
of living words
there is no border
to love or define forgiving
it is already done
yet here we are in the sun
listening to Charlie Parker
deciding to explore nature
and reach a nest of birds
caught in dark branches
or here at the beach
we assure that inside
of a shell and rock
that a hurting turtle
is well protected,
we make our ways
through Platonic caves
until we motion
to divine a measure
that we will be connected
in a snorkel of wishes
through the ocean waves
to find and save the fish
from man's leaving plastic
and all sort nets and metal
to save part of our planet
below our earth's
geological shadow
we let go
from the diving board
and swim in our words
in a dramatic mile below
like Jacques Cousteau
surfing with
an environmental smile.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail


  10 - 30 - 100  

Terms of use | Privacy policy | Contact

Copyright © 2010 truml.com, by using this service you accept terms of use.


contact with us






Report this item

You have to be logged in to use this feature. please register

Ta strona używa plików cookie w celu usprawnienia i ułatwienia dostępu do serwisu oraz prowadzenia danych statystycznych. Dalsze korzystanie z tej witryny oznacza akceptację tego stanu rzeczy.    Polityka Prywatności   
ROZUMIEM
1