Latest items:

poetry

Satish Verma, 22 may 2016

Adulterous

As innocent as buds of jasmine
twilight of a falling night
offsets the nakedness of a baby moon,
the subterfuge of a slant lie.
How crooked was the conviction?

Blessing was flawless. Only the sky
had an anguished exoneration
for a particular sin.
What was put out for a show
was hired.

He did not want to become a spot,
a speck, or an insect. The ending
of lonliness had a high price. Give
and take were insufficient. Only giving
was a gift. Duality of ugliness shined in the mirror.

In despair he picked up the replica
of a humanoid ancestor,
who was to become a model DNA
of a simian who was not capable
of becoming adulterous.

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Joe Breunig, 21 may 2016

Poem: Pascal’s Wager

One of many apologetic arguments
is an application of Game Theory,
as defined by “Pascal’s Wager”;
ideas of infinite gain make leery

skeptics doubt a likely existence
of an omnipotent and omniscient God,
Who is worthy of our time and talent.
They believe this premise is flawed,

as they willingly bet against Hell,
damnation and its infinite losses;
the discussion, of rational thought
and atheistic stances, crisscrosses

mental boundaries in search of Truth.
Is finite loss of luxury and pleasure
worth the Christian lifestyle today?
Where are you storing your treasures?

Author notes

Inspired by:
Gen 1; Matt 6:19-20 and
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pascal27s_Wager

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

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

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Satish Verma, 21 may 2016

Without A Title

Full moon was negating the intensity of night.
I wanted the sacred smell of dark heaven
which was dispensing the forgiveness.
Did not reach the dazzling height of a star;
even conflicts gave me immense metaphors.
Nemesis was measuring the hauled-up mistakes
For them I was tormented by unknown fears
and the ravings were useless.
Deliberately I cleaned my room twice
to welcome the instincts.
Even the particulars have become painful.
What do you think, can we follow the poem
without a title?
The neighbourhood cracks silently
I am not going to flaunt my lesions.

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Bipurna Tara, 20 may 2016

The seed of LOVE

When do I plant,
The seed of LOVE?
Where do I plant,
The seed of Love?

In the summer,
when the rain starts on the drought
or on the drought when
summer ends with scorching sun heat?

Is love a drop in the sand
or
Is love a drop in the ocean?

My love lost in the sand
or
my love drowned in the sea?

Where did I plant?
The seed of love,
Is it blooming?
or already lost?
Questions remain....

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David de la Croes, 20 may 2016

Autumn V

Chlorophyll recedes
in non-indigenous trees -
rusting aliens

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David de la Croes, 20 may 2016

Butterflies

Shards of spent rainbows
punctuate nature's story -
flutterings of hope

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David de la Croes, 20 may 2016

Autumn IV

A rainbow dissolves
as dark clouds gather at dusk -
monochromed landscape

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David de la Croes, 20 may 2016

Poetry Explosion

a rainbow shatters
and scatters laughter and tears
splatters on pages

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Gert Strydom, 20 may 2016

When death’s fingers do me touch

When death’s fingers do me touch
do not let a preacher come
to pray for me.

I will walk alone with my God
who stands free from men
to meet Him face to face.

Do not let a doctor come
to take away the pain
or give the strain of tears

let me be to experience
the blazing sun setting in the west,
to see the moon rising in the night sky

let I live life and follow the course
that destiny designs
and still make your love mine.

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Satish Verma, 20 may 2016

Quivering Fetus

It was on. The heat!
When you could not tell the truth about yourself
something I would also not be able to tell it to myself.
How we were deceiving each other?
Why the death had come unannounced?

The mode of concrete reply was not grim.
Why did he go for an unscheduled rendezvous?
otters are going to be ostracized from water.

During eclipse sun entered the womb
spurting semen will make the earth wet.
One penetration, will it make a pregnancy?
Go for the wash, wipe the sin
from your face. Wheels of time will not stop.

My worries are freaking out.
I see a mob of stray dogs
pouncing on a lump of pink meat.
It was a quivering fetus!

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

10 - 30 - 100

Latest items:

poetry

Adulterous

Poem: Pascal’s Wager

Without A Title

The seed of LOVE

Autumn V

Butterflies

Autumn IV

Poetry Explosion

When death’s fingers do me touch

Quivering Fetus

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