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poetry

Joe Breunig, 4 september 2014

Poem: Unceasing in Prayer

I’m casting my cares upon You,
while praying throughout the day.
I’m thankful for our relationship
and the Love of Your sacred sway

that permeates my entire being.
For I’ll keep on talking to You,
discussing the issues of my life,
since You will bring me through

safely by Your divine guidance.
In You alone, faith is entrusted,
as this analytical mindset of mine
had been vigorously readjusted.

Knowing that You’re everywhere,
I’ll remain… unceasing in prayer!

Author Notes:

Loosely based on:
Psa 42; 1 Thes 5:16-18; 1 Pet 5:6-7;
John 16:13; Eph 3:16

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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Satish Verma, 4 september 2014

DELIVERANCE

Have not asked much,
still attached to you with subtelities,
I wanted freedom from you,
For removing stings from the flesh.

Anxiety was the darkest color
of floating buds on lake.
Sitting on the edge of panic,
I started counting the waves.

Mixed emotions always subtract a smile.
Just lonely, I went for the swim in rimless agony.
Have not heard much of you in ages.
Still memories crop up for a while,
I wanted nemesis from you.

Talking of blue and white clouds
love has many moods.
Devastated by a burning moon
I was wishing a watery burial.

Satish Verma

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Azhar alam, 4 september 2014

Aksar waqt ki Aasara me

Aksar waqt ki Aasara me halaat badal jate hain
Insaan ke jazbaat me alfaaz badal jate hain
Pade na Kadam zameen pe bulandi pe ja pahuncha
Wahi toot kar ek din sare bazaar bikhar jate hain

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Satish Verma, 3 september 2014

NO, NO I'M NO OVID!

A useless space between the sentences,
ghastly story does not end in black and white.
Again the heart cries.
I keep on knocking on the doors
and then return to blackness.

Sometimes people become insects.
Cockroaches, ants and spiders,
weaving their webs and hills,
crawling, creeping, clawing.
Flesh eaters. Pouncing upon hapless victims.

Depression. I am devastated.
Something churns in breast, dousing the spirit, lines and words.
Cannot sit quiet. Agoraphobia. Don’t want to talk.
Somewhere a name crops up. Saint or beast.
Under the trees there is no shade. I walk barefoot.
Hungry dogs chasing the flies.
Humidity fills the eyes.

Silence of the night.
City has stopped running.
All the dead will speak now.
Not asking any revenge,
but peace for the living people.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 2 september 2014

BYANTIUM -2

Long night will start the pincer movement;
pyrexia is rising.
Something like an extraterrestrial hand
digs deep in the mind to open the tomb
to unravel the tragedy of nuts and bolts
which could not fix
the mutation of the hour of death.

Dark blinking lashes of soul
measures the cliffs of silence
and then pours the hot red
vermilion in parted wisdom of sky.

The clang of bones again penetrates
the liver. The green flaming jelly of
innocent bellies.
The hyacinth is choking the village pond
hiding the corpses of precious flowers
with green blood.

One day foundation of skeletons will build a
temple of hope.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 1 september 2014

KAHE RI NALINI TU KUMLAHNI...*

When glacier recedes,
Your eyes start flowing,
and by the swollen river
an island is swallowed up.

You swim from the lake to the shore
of grief to err again.
Water was your home,
water is your life.

Soft marble swells up in deep crevices
of brain, shaking the foundation of
thoughts, naked as it is.

The fog sleeps on the sea for eternity.
The wrath of sky will burn the skeletons
buried in sand.
Summer will bring the violence.

You cry for forgotton greens,
and kelp and sailing ships
full of hops.
When the hymn recedes,
your eyes start flowing.

* A line from one of Kabir’s famous poems which means ‘O lotus! why thou witherest thus...’

Satish Verma

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Aurora, 1 september 2014

corporate living in an ark wood

Split atom
verbally expressed as a moment
eyes closed
hushed lips
seeping blood between varicose veins
my head is pumping
your remains
buried within

OPEN SWEET NIALIO
what is that?
A dog or a cat?
a cloud or the sun?

two plus two is a mirror of one.

I shall share what I have just experienced
with a few split atoms
I have felt the planets once
more
i have seen the music
I have seen the music create
new stars around jupiter
I watched how the new star ring around jupiter
played in tune with another planet nearer to the sun,
mars perhaps

And I was the conductor.

Tears fall from my eyes

How does the brain feel more overpowering emotion
from such imagery
where does this all interact?

It's like the heart weeps for what the brain shows
where it all derives from a soul no one knows

this is not a poem

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Satish Verma, 31 august 2014

A CIRCLE WITH AN OUTSIDECENTRE

After drawing a self-portrait,
I want you to believe
that I am not in it.
The style of rebellion cannot be judged by
blurbs only.

A chunk of refusal,
a narrow escape,
and thin veiled hysteria,
all go for a parody of exactness,
which had been really absent from our lives.

Can you find out
who is betraying whom?
where the tears are migrating?
And where the smiles have gone?

Instead of brutalizing,
I care for the tender torches
moving in the dark bush.

A precise definition is needed
for self-denial of molten lava
which moves like a river
but does not grab the heights.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 30 august 2014

THE PROTO...

Today the poem was still on the brink
of completion,
but never came to an end.
The whole day it was burning
in restless mind
and I looked down from a hopeless height.

No further movement of thoughts,
only dizziness.
I craved for a clear vision
between retinal haemorrhages.

Was it a hara-kiri?
I cannot move the pen.
Being half or complete
what was right?
There is no completeness,
only recalls of piecemeals.

Hiding behind excuses and myths,
failed to go for vivisection.
Or life failing to talk to death.
One day
I will pay for closing the door.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 29 august 2014

PHEONIX

Let us not cry for the fallen statue.
he is still alive and writing his own epitaph.
Eagles sitting on tall branches
will wait for the prey.

Why did he fake for a genius
running the lives of millions
toward the gates of heaven?

Do you think the quality of question marks will suffer
when answers remain incarcerated
in a system with flawed satisfaction?

I am going to die of shame
being only a bystander, in this bleak times.
Every day a murder of a blue chorus
is being announced.

Let me sing a new tugging anthem
sweet in my heart
harsh on my tongue.

Tonight a full moon will make me weightless
and I will be orbiting like an earth
around a burning name.

Satish Verma

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Latest items:

poetry

Poem: Unceasing in Prayer

DELIVERANCE

Aksar waqt ki Aasara me

NO, NO I'M NO OVID!

BYANTIUM -2

KAHE RI NALINI TU KUMLAHNI...*

corporate living in an ark wood

A CIRCLE WITH AN OUTSIDECENTRE

THE PROTO...

PHEONIX

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