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poetry
Joe Breunig, 15 january 2016
Poem: A Glorious Man?
It just can’t be a coincidence,
that my origin is that of soil;
for it provides both fertility
and the strength for human toil.
Buried deep within my spirit is
Your garden, implanted with seeds;
once I’ve been tilled by You, Lord
I’ll meet one of Your Kingdom needs.
My life’s labor won’t go unrewarded,
for it’s scented with the perfume
of an authentic, Christian Faith.
Your words in me are a poetic bloom
that brings encouragement to others.
Will my humble life be as You planned?
O Lord, will Your expectations be met
with me still becoming… a glorious man?
Author notes
Inspired by:
Gen 2:7; 2 Cor 9:10; 2 Thes 1:3;
Col 2:6-7; Jer 17:7-8 and
One day when we come to a deeper understanding of The Word
of God, we shall find the term “Man” more palatable than even
the term “Children of God.” For we shall realize that God’s
preordained plan and election is to obtain a glorious man.
-Jacobs Adewale
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.
Satish Verma, 15 january 2016
Dirty Homes
While going my way, searching an eternal flame
I confront an extraordinary trauma,
God does not live, but dies in me daily.
There was green pain in this condemned strangeness
as the young world moves on
dancing with joy.
It was not a coincidence
that intellectual anesthesia
was not able to bring good sleep.
So much passes by your city
existential traffic, soaring above arguments,
but a chilled, far away voice
defends the crumbling palace of syntax.
The masks are crying from the split walls
languishing in the hopeless garden.
Wherever you go, the windows are closed
and the smoke rings
rising from the chimneys of dirty homes.
Satish Verma, 14 january 2016
Between Fear And Courage
I visualize you all time,
my death,
A beautiful partner of my life
my redeemed ego!
Hate was not showing
its concrete face.
Love has lost the scent
and pshyche is leaving the path
of abstract truth.
Bruised, I loathe to go
in this unbridled ordeal.
Intuition or stupidity?
A spotless dialogue I dream
between fear and courage.
At end,
life can flow quietly
amidst the promises
clasping the peace, at its breast.
Satish Verma, 13 january 2016
Hope And Banality
Tired of exhibitionism,
nostalgia for an eternal
herd of thoughts -
moves for the real intent
the intensive thirst for unknown.
The lie stamps the vanity on a pseudo book.
Everything turns in a rage,
and pain strips to bone.
Dressed in his gaudy fame,
great idol lifts the arm.
Must I become a part of this motley crowd?
The return is difficult
for the disowned faith.
Great hips, broad shoulders and pointed nose
reach nowhere.
Beneath the disillusion lie the shades
of hope and banality,
to choose a tomorrow
which will never arrive.
Gert Strydom, 13 january 2016
Long Beach
On long beach
we swam in the cold water
before walking up to the wreck
of the Kakapo
which were covered with sand
with pieces of rusting iron
sticking out
like a big skeleton
and a round semi-circle at the back.
The sand was soft
and white under our feet
with Chapman’s Peak and Noordhoek
towering up above us,
within walking distance.
Satish Verma, 12 january 2016
Layered Aches
Strange it looks,
some one crying on winning a race.
He was o loser and a victor.
After such a long fight,
what is left on a banished field?
broken skulls and roaring laughter,
Everything was crushed under falling snow
of ruthlessness.
And over the fire hangs a skeleton
of past.
The real truth again hides in the
Survivor’s eyes.
There is no witness of any crime.
The court adjournd and the symbolists
rejoice.
Justice has come for a sale.
The highest bidder will get the chair
now
Now will begin the layered aches
in heart.
Gert Strydom, 12 january 2016
As my eyes gaze into the dark night
I do not need stars to tell me
that my life, my destiny is written,
that somewhere someone reads
some thoughts of mine
and that everyone has a impact
on each other.
As my eyes gaze into the dark night
trying to see past eternity,
I keep looking for the light,
to see the presence of the One
that guides me.
Gert Strydom, 11 january 2016
I see her dancing gaily
I see her dancing gaily
swirling the leaves outside
as if her spirit would forever be young
and although the autumn of my years
is all ready leaving its marks
I am still strong in body and spirit
and now a more mature man.
I see time creeping
into the corners of my body
and ever slowly chiselling
the features of who, I am
but still she embraces me
as if she’s part of the divine
with the knowledge of her ways
as if the entire world is mine
and yet sometimes I am cold
from her breath kissing my cheeks
and I realize
that I am turning old.
Satish Verma, 11 january 2016
On The Breast Of Flames
Dismembering the wreath,
he went on celebrating his own demise.
Shadow had become a white shroud.
He was spitting blood, when slugs,
hit him from behind.
No body remembered his name
We had been dividing the roofs.
My moon and my sky.
I feel my eyes have turned into marbles.
Castaway I float on conscience, with
blemishes, doomed muscle.
Sun and water were baffled.
Raged against the invisible walls
I was breaking my knuckles.
No body knows, who will outbid
whon. I am lying low,
to rise one day
like sphinx,
on the breast of flames.
Satish Verma, 10 january 2016
Whole Truth
Let it be as such,
my long cut tear,
Do not dramatize the wound
and put it as an exhibit.
No attempt should be made to mask the fated pain.
Wait for me at the end of the road.
Not for me,
I grieve for the fallen trees, tall glory of past.
It was a question of survival.
Survival of the best, which could not continue.
There is reversal of equatization.
Man has become superior to god.
They are using Him, I am afraid.
Urging him to commit a natural suicide,
a logical ending of a patriarch.
The stage is set for a mass mourning.
A big conspiracy had been brewing
in prisoner’s cell,
which had been in full possession of
whole truth.
Latest comments:
12 april 2026
Jaga
Krzewy tarniny w skupisku pachną wiosną i przyciągają
12 april 2026
Coraz trudniej. Chce się zatopić w marzeniach/
12 april 2026
Gdy nie wiadomo o co chodzi, to chodzi o pieniądze
12 april 2026
Czasem klej potrzebny duszy/ gdy we łzach i
12 april 2026
sam53
coraz trudniej o takie prawdziwe, czyste ....
12 april 2026
to znaczy wg koloru, czy wg płci?
12 april 2026
kiwam głową na tak :))
12 april 2026
za mało gmatwu-gmwtwu, a za dużo kleju... pozdrawiam
12 april 2026
zgadza się... moja juszszsz ukojona :)
12 april 2026
na sobotę :)
12 april 2026
Weronika
Może.
12 april 2026
violetta
O jaki piękny, też bym się tak schowała:)
12 april 2026
Sorrowhead (ex Cheval)
12 april 2026
wiesiek
12 april 2026
Jaga
11 april 2026
Sorrowhead (ex Cheval)
11 april 2026
wiesiek
11 april 2026
Sorrowhead (ex Cheval)
11 april 2026
Anthony DiMichele
11 april 2026
Anthony DiMichele
11 april 2026
Anthony DiMichele
11 april 2026
Anthony DiMichele