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poetry
Gert Strydom, 31 december 2015
Today people are not interested
Today people are not interested
in a creator God
and an angel that does protect with a flaming sword
while they are tied to the depths of evolution.
Even Jesus Christ to whom the Old Testament does point,
of whom the New Testament is full,
His death and the cross does not matter
according to some historic doctrines
and so called knowledge.
Still many people do believe that demonic powers do exist
while others wait on the Cosmic Christ (Satan) to appear
as if he is the saviour of the world
and in secret they go ahead with their works
while they do try to get rid of the Christ of the bible.
From the time of Simon Magus
agnostic doctrines come
and today theososofical people propagate their outlook
with views of blasphemy.
There are people that lecture at theological seminaries
at universities
almost like at sewers of blasphemy
do teach curates about a god outside of the bible
and still they do profess that they are Christians
while they do remove Jesus Christ as God out of the bible
with they break their bond and relationship
that strays away from Him.
Gert Strydom, 30 december 2015
South Africa is also my country
From birth I have been planted
in this country
and nowhere else
does lure me away from here,
even when being without a job
and affirmative action
does scale down my abilities to nothing,
I am not taken from this land,
where I still do talk my own language,
and I still do bend my knees
to the omnipotent Lord God
and even if I am astounded
by the clowns that do govern,
are astonished by the things
that happens in the parliament and in the country
it changes nothing
to me being a white South African
and they can give away their barbaric culture
free and gratis to other people
while I do stay with my own
and have integrity
and not even the whole Africa
can remove me from my country.
Gert Strydom, 30 december 2015
In this distant country
In this distant country
everyone wants to find
An own place in the sun,
and some people want to use force
to get a piece of earth
and want to drive away others
from their farms
and lives
but I do wonder where
a person can find recourse
where there is a place
in all of this
for you and me?
Gert Strydom, 29 december 2015
What fanciful lives we lead
What fanciful lives we lead:
being soldier, accountant, father and husband
and yet at night kneel at our beds
like small children
in trust to a creator God
always comprehending that we are nothing
but mere men.
Satish Verma, 29 december 2015
The Habitat
Will not show my wounds, life extracts a price.
A heap of pain, squeezed into eyes
hits me with daily bread.
Draws the conflicts
and sets the fears free.
A half moon wipes my tears.
Destiny clings to dust
Phoenix is rising.
Ruthlessly, night causes pain
freedom is in peril.
The soul sings in a withering tone,
for the departing stars. Yellow,
youthful light of rising sun
burns the desires.
We hate the soaring choices
there is no end, no beginning.
My non-self opposing
the empty life, connects
the heart with contents of sorrow.
It fills up the nothingness.
I perceive a spring of forgotten grass,
engaged orchards and laughing fires
in the buds. Time for
the habitat to step in.
Gert Strydom, 28 december 2015
As if they are beacons
When the lightning did that night
flaming search the earth in blue-white branches,
mother did draw the curtains close.
On the porch I did see blue-white sparks running,
the rattle of some more thunder
did sound further away,
I could smell the fragrance of the rain
where fresh it did fume through the closed windows,
and early the power had been cut by the thunderstorm
and mother did open the Bible
at the light of a flaring candle
and did read of the rainbow
that comes after each rainstorm
and later the clouds were blown away,
while the doves did coo right through the night
and the moon did peep down from the heaven,
while I could see stars burning
as if they are beacons
that God had put into space.
Satish Verma, 28 december 2015
Non-Story
Questions are the answers
and answers are the questions.
They never die. The words
collect the dripping wounds.
Memories emmigrate to wasteland
and the city drowns in a lake.
Our infallible pride has no challenge
trust the precarious teeth.
Beyond eloquence life drifts
from unknown to unknown.
A fruitless search in a grey winter
of thinking trees. Tall,
beautiful, but faith has taken a U– turn.
The span of obscurity
reflects a twisted wisdom
burning the books of tomorrow.
The fear, depression
and brutal game of corruptible views
I deal with a non-story
of cultivated meditation.
The duality of hate
and love, bread and hunger.
I stand on a quicksand
to balance the beach
and find the missed links.
Satish Verma, 27 december 2015
Anniversary Of Flirtation
Imitating the waves,
I try to end the attachment
touching the shores,
then moving away.
Search for eternity erases
the designs. Birth
and death cling together.
I let go the passion,
the deviation of fear.
There cannot be two lives.
When the illusion meets
the pain, truth laughs,
I forego my future,
tear the past and burn the present.
Failed life hangs on
the silence of sorrow.
Names don’t hold any charm
they come & go. Days
dropp like long coats
I search the night.
The desperate seeking
will not end the journey
It is there in the dark hole of the heart.
A pitless gloom.
I am afraid to be revealed.
Art of life is scissored,
Anniversary of flirtation
with death forgotten. We celebrate.
Gert Strydom, 27 december 2015
You are my darling (sonnet)
You are my darling, my wife,
the one with whom I walk through life,
the one that is mine, my inspiration and hope,
the one that holds me tight against her breast
and when you are right against me, it is as if I do behold myself
in your gaze and at times I am stripped from my own conceit,
when we do have deep conversations with each other and with God
and I do wish that which you are for me would never abate,
that each and every day will just bring bigger understanding of each other
as you have grown into to me and are a part of my flesh
and I do know you, do know what you are thinking even before you do talk
as you are my magic potion, the best part of my life and my healing,
you are the one that have ideals of what I can become,
the one that creates a place of peace for me in a world full of hatred.
Satish Verma, 26 december 2015
Without Bargaining
A view from the cause,
alters the landscape in you
I surrender to the earth,
the roots. Purifying the leaves.
I tell myself, this was not me,
my music. Still my skin
has the tattoos of pandemic deafness.
I am breathing through the lips.
My attachment to death
is a private affair
my voice lies in a lake.
The butterfly in a womb.
the psalms under the rocks.
Is it ending of death
or death of ending?
I go beyond the brink,
dropp the stone in water.
When the moon touches
my eyes, like a kiss
I start sharing the menu of night.
The rimless thoughts are hovering
like small birds. I listen
to their flappings.
Can we live without bargaining?
Do you know the price?
Latest comments:
14 january 2026
Jaga
Kocham cztery polskie pory/ wiosnę, lato, jesień,
14 january 2026
Nie zawsze czas uczy pogody.
14 january 2026
Jeśli znajdziesz drogę, wszystko się może
14 january 2026
Łapią słońce bez bikini/ takie trendy dziś
14 january 2026
To prawda. Za to piękna gra światła :))
14 january 2026
smokjerzy
jakieś wychudzone te pietruszki...:))
14 january 2026
jakiś tam...;)
14 january 2026
od zawsze próbuję upchnąć zbyt wielkie w
14 january 2026
jeśli jest dokąd wrócić...:)
14 january 2026
i prawie mu się udało...
14 january 2026
Weronika
Chciał się powiesić na wymyślonej gałęzi.
13 january 2026
sam53
na pewno jakiś sposób...
14 january 2026
wiesiek
13 january 2026
wiesiek
12 january 2026
wiesiek
11 january 2026
Jaga
10 january 2026
wiesiek
4 january 2026
Jaga
4 january 2026
wiesiek
31 december 2025
wiesiek
30 december 2025
Jaga
27 december 2025
marka