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poetry
Satish Verma, 24 december 2014
BLACK HOLE
Will you walk with me
on the banks of a silent and invisible river?
Not paleowater eating the earth
but a collider, flowing in conscience.
One more dip with epidural
to stay away from awakening,
to start climbing on the burning tower
of truth.
Planting lethal swords in the hands
of earthlings. The essence of memory,
throws counter-questions. Strange happenings.
I am afraid of a black hole.
Gert Strydom, 23 december 2014
That you are beautiful
That you are pretty
the whole world knows
but you do not really realize it
and it’s as if you do not know of your own beauty
and the glances in every other eye
you do continually miss
and how we feel about each other,
that we are destined to be together,
how deep our feelings are,
that our worlds do fall apart
when we are separate
no other person does really comprehend,
not even your family,
or your friends that are becoming more and more
or even the postman that are bringing you letters.
Gert Strydom, 23 december 2014
Morning
When the early morning rays
were caught in the sky
and it did look as if again
it would be a hot day
and the sun did change from red to white,
when trees did point fingers into the blue
and the fragrance of flowers
did hang like a cloak around you.
you did sit in the car with me
and your eyes did give away
numerous kisses.
Gert Strydom, 22 december 2014
A moment (Rubliw)
You look
in the mirror,
do wipe some stray hair right
and something is caught in the glance
as if the day depends on your own looks
and your glance moves away to me
in a short small moment
that lingers on
and on.
Gert Strydom, 22 december 2014
When I admire you (Rubliw)
Without
comprehension
you are when I admire
your beauty when you do makeup
but a small bit of a smile do linger
that does reflect your deep feelings
and the sun is setting
and the moment
is past.
Satish Verma, 22 december 2014
ONE HUNDRED MOONS
On the battle turfs of a vernacular
hunger, the hikes were killing
the uncertain values. Committing suicide
was a regular feature.
To pay off the debts of a flag.
By using pesticides on unsuspecting
guests of tomorrow.
The clocks were set one century back.
What could be done of an anonymous
terror bomb placed in a lunchbox?
Do we wait for an accident?
Who will open it?
All summer, one hundred moons
I will wash your face
to read the command.
Who had put the stiletto in your hand?
Satish Verma, 21 december 2014
ACOUSTICS ARE NOT WORKING
Maimed, tortured for love of resistance
this night appears to be
without an end.
There was nothing to lose,
it was looking for some reason
to die on the side of a cloud
when the sickle moon was sailing.
Tomorrow a new lie will be born.
Even a suicide bomber
will be tossed around,
like a new coin.
Weaving a dress of skin and bones
in the little sky of so many
purple birds.
Acoustics are not working
walls have no doors.
By night only a torch will be moving.
Salvatore Ala, 20 december 2014
Firebird Sunset
That’s the Phoenix! That’s the myth!
That’s what the storybooks
Have been trying to tell me. The firebird
Nests in the searing winds of time.
It migrates to the forests of the sun.
It lives in the drop of fire behind the eyes
And perches on the volcano in the ribs.
You’ll know the firebird by its ashes,
By how the sunset beats its wings
And flames out like a cosmic fire.
Better to start living, to start loving,
Better to be consumed with joy
Than live another day without rebirth,
Without music that catches fire
Or words that cast a burning shadow.
Satish Verma, 20 december 2014
BONES OF WINDS
Inside, the battle wages.
One step down,
I drown myself in the frowns
of a thought. Night sucks at my fear.
The rhyme of the fading moon
intends to fix me up.
I refuse to smell the breath
of the catch.
I bloom on the pain,
sweetened kill of the day. An empty jump
in void of a portrait;
shaking wall.
Watercolors were ruined
by smudging the reasons.
Clutching the bones of winds, falling
from the sky.
Satish Verma, 19 december 2014
CROWD AT THE MORGUE
A new planet was taking birth.
Stem cells were coming out of
obedience to carnality.
For resuscitation from kiss of death
faith was at its best in its witchcraft.
Complete blood count failed,
to diagnose the strange madness.
It was a whirling chemistry.
The transmitters merely took in
the sin, the insanity.
A huge crowd collected at the morgue
to collect the severed limbs,
after the death of a sun.
Picking the scars of dark
and slaughtered tomorrow.
The rage of sunrise will come back.
One day the clouds will burst open. Yes
the death will come as a bride.
Latest comments:
19 january 2026
Jaga
Nie jesteś zbyt surowy? Tu czasu brakło :))
19 january 2026
Mróz, słońce, tylko śniegu brak. Wysuszy
19 january 2026
sam53
chodzi zima po świecie :)
19 january 2026
smokjerzy
być może to już szóstego dnia Bóg powinien
19 january 2026
i dojrzałe śliwki - pod warunkiem, że trafią
19 january 2026
Świat błędem stoi.
19 january 2026
Ja znałam katechetkę, która rzucała kluczami...:))
19 january 2026
tylko bardzo dojrzali ludzie potrafią przyznać,
19 january 2026
ile błędów, tyle szkół, ile szkół, tyle
19 january 2026
w dzisiejszych czasach to raczej z Red Bullem...
19 january 2026
ot co...
19 january 2026
co, gdzie, jak, kto...:))
19 january 2026
Jaga
19 january 2026
wiesiek
18 january 2026
wiesiek
18 january 2026
Jaga
17 january 2026
wiesiek
16 january 2026
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wiesiek
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12 january 2026
wiesiek