Latest items:

poetry

Gert Strydom, 10 october 2014

When as a child

When as a child you asked about the right road to take,
asked why everyone have got to carry a cross
I had to show you that we are His followers,
had to taught you to trust and not to complain
and only in His words I could find the right direction
while the lights of this world were blinding you
and already enemies were present,
forces working together to destroy humanity
but still you wanted to see a star, see a sign
and I wanted you to follow Him out of free will
and you took your own way,
did later realise that we do not deserve His love
and stripped from your self-conceit you did realise
that the Lord walks in advance to straighten things.

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Satish Verma, 10 october 2014

EVENING: A SELF EXPERIENCE

When the sun dips on the horizon,
I will invite the yellow moon.

Time raises the mist,
profiles become grey,
vibrating in trance,
limbs colliding in way.
When the love’s violence escorts you to death
red eyes will melt and an avalanche
will drown the landmark.

We were kith and kin,
now strangers in motion of earth,
meet only speeding towards dark.
When the life will miss the sorrow
I will invite the yellow moon.

Satish Verma

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Ailill, 10 october 2014

Expectations

Expecting experience
to match up to dreams
I echo my expectations
always seeking to be
who I am

like an origami boat
tossed and turned
down the flow of a stream

broken dreams lying around
keep me in a trance
disengaged from the dance
of the eternal now

see me as I wish to be seen
an image self created
self perpetuated in longing
for a cup

half empty,
never full

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Lo, 9 october 2014

Fear

Fear is a beautiful thing
Eloquently placed in my life to tempt me
However I divert it
It always comes back to haunt me
Fear doesn't have a name
It doesn't pick and choose who to blame
Rather it aims in every direction
Catching any kind of prey
The ones who overcome it
Are the few who will prevail
Fear is a beautiful thing
I will never stay impaled

number of comments: 2 | rating: 4 | detail

Joe Breunig, 9 october 2014

Poem: No Catching Heaven?

Is there no possibility of catching Heaven,
when my heart is one of your throne rooms?
If I really desire to be part of Your family,
can faith rise with the scent of holy perfume?

With risk, stubbornness and daring, I read
Your Word, having great expectations of You.
I’ve been tantalized, optimistic and wanting-
Your Presence in my life… to burst through!

In pursuit of this spiritual dream on Earth,
I strive to continually better my relationship
with the Godhead, the One Who deeply loves me;
so teach me Lord, all aspects of Your Sonship.

Application of Your principles in my journey
requires that my heart, spirit and eyes see.

Author Notes

Inspired by:
2 Cor 2:14-16

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

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.

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Gert Strydom, 9 october 2014

The white breasted crow

From the sky it swooped down shrieking
completely black
with a white patch at its breast
gazing with small black intelligent eyes at me
with feet stretched out
and four claws on each
opening and ready to close around a branch
during the landing

but I was sitting on a bench in a park
with the nearest tree
twenty meters away
and it landed on a wooden spar
of the bench’s backrest
right next to me
and sitting upright it said: “hello”
amazing me with the greeting

and looked curious
at the slices of bread
that I was eating
and it was obvious that it wanted some.

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Gert Strydom, 9 october 2014

Hovering

I drift on the wind
eying the world,
looking at things passing beneath me

and the whole sky is clear
stretching out blue and in the distance
changing in its hue

and I revolve watching for prey
hanging high, gliding almost endlessly
until suddenly finding it

and drop down at lightning speed
with the sun covering me,
materialising right upon my target

and with great skill
with outstretched claws and sharp beak
I make a perfect kill.

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Satish Verma, 9 october 2014

TALE-BEARER

They were counting the bullets and bodies.
The severed limbs were twitching. Sometimes to go back
to their owners,
but the faceless torso selects a bush to hide the remains.
The leaves are falling on the make shift home of death.

It is time to know
who will judge the color of oozing blood?
Red, brown or black? ?

In rapt attention I can see a carnivore
without carnality there is a beauty of kill
a splurge of energy and game.
No hate, no envy, no greed.
It is not violence! It is nature! !
What you are doing with a charred face?
Changing the features of earth?
A little bit here, a little bit there
My tears will tell the tale.

Satish Verma

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Gert Strydom, 8 october 2014

Holiday

When the sun rises
the children already want to rollick
but you are still asleep
and very far from being ready.
Glued to the mirror
with your DD-breasts to your own glance you are too fat
while you regard yourself in a painfully small bikini
where you have got a perfect figure.
On the beach I rub suntan oil over you
where you sit under the big umbrella
and every man observes you
while you watch everyone from behind sunglasses.
Every afternoon we have lunch in a restaurant
where you do enjoy seafood and the children some steak
just at the edge of the beach
and you do regard the holiday as miserable
even when we drive out to some places
and the children want to stay at the sea eternally.

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Satish Verma, 8 october 2014

DYING TO LIVE

Eight kisses of death and I am alive
My chest is still bleeding
Come brother, come,
stitch my wounds.

Whom shall we believe, rebirth
or life after death?
Both are study of wasteland.
To speak through angels is difficult these
days and prayer has run
out its charm.
I want to swim with octopus
again,
to test its suckered tentacles.
The envy of ocean cannot stop me.
Tonight the burning candle is going to live.

Satish Verma

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10 - 30 - 100

Latest items:

poetry

When as a child

EVENING: A SELF EXPERIENCE

Expectations

Fear

Poem: No Catching Heaven?

The white breasted crow

Hovering

TALE-BEARER

Holiday

DYING TO LIVE

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