
Gert Strydom, 4 july 2016
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.
Satish Verma, 4 july 2016
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.
Joe Breunig, 3 july 2016
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.
Satish Verma, 3 july 2016
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.
Satish Verma, 2 july 2016
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.
Satish Verma, 1 july 2016
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.
Satish Verma, 29 june 2016
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.
Satish Verma, 28 june 2016
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.
Satish Verma, 27 june 2016
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.
B.Z. Niditch, 27 june 2016
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.
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