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poetry

Joe Breunig, 28 august 2014

Poem: Love, Stability and Peace

As His children, grafted into the Living Tree,
we should be bearing the Spirit’s fruit of:
joy, peace, patience, gentleness, goodness,
faithfulness, kindness, willpower and Love.

Christian examples are desperately needed,
for a dying World that is going to hell.
Waving a Bible, filled with holy principles,
has never worked, but genuine actions tell

them the absolute truth about Jesus Christ.
Can we expect the unsaved to find release,
when ongoing demonstrations of poor behavior,
don’t reflect His… Love, stability and peace?

Author Notes:

Loosely based on:
Gal 5:13-26; Rom 3:21-26; Eph 4:17-32

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, 28 august 2014

A YEARNING

If hate was becoming an absolute truth
and love was transcending lies
where do we go now?

This daily life, I was seeing
the pain of troubled identity,
turning into punishment of unbecoming.

The hired untruths
are killing the tender doubts.
No body wants to look back
at the subscribers of violence.

Be my friend.
Let us go for a pilgrimage into past,
for a sacred bath.
Uncovered and naked
in the hot spring of madness.

At last we will take the heat of sun
in open sky,
manipulate the wind metaphorically
and sleep in our bodies.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 27 august 2014

SYSIPHUS

Let it go, do not touch it,
you had been negating the bare truth.
I was part of you
once at the shore of tragedy.
Life was treacherous
and I was free to laugh.

Come September and I will be chasing
the fireflies again.

How time takes revenge
from the innocent commitments?
You start returning to your roots
and I was still surfeiting
on the secret fidelity.

Where was the need to be tied down
to god? No body was honest to forsake
the fear of nameless nemesis.

The myth of rock still haunts.
Water still boils under the clay.
Petals fly in dark alleys
and I cannot find the door.

Satish Verma

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Insatiable Sohail, 26 august 2014

Towards Vague Destination

All our thinking swallowed up
All dreams of peace wiped away
Like woman of a household forced to dishonor.
Arguments keep piling up
Issues never get resolved
Like the evening deepened into night.

People are running after
for making a pile of money
Riding about in a jeep.
To survive they don’t even bother
to take other’s life .
We act like nothing happened
The sufferings and cry of starving
during hard times
don’t even touched our heart.

Our feet keep on walking
Simply keep on walking ahead
But our destination,we don’t know.

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Satish Verma, 26 august 2014

HIERONOMO! *

A sin between us
transcends hidden paths.
I start digging endless questions.

What was that interminable and esoteric?
Give me a clue. Lift your hand
and write the name of the recluse.

I am connecting to unknown
for the answer.
we are all guilty here.

Do not wait for me
I have steered the boat
towards the rapids.

Without time a half moon
will shift
And I will weep for the fallen saint.

Begging for the words
beseeching the pernicious wounds
I will go in hysteria.

* The protagonist in Spanish Tragedy of Kyd.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 25 august 2014

AHAM ASMI... *

Night melts into tears,
day sums up the pain.
A fear stalks the flute,
and darkness falls on the drapes.
I was lake,
and I was sun.

I held you on to my breast.
give me your fangs,
and give me your venom.
I am blue and I am the death.

Centuries of wounds
and millions of scars.
Silence of sky,
and lull in the clouds.
I am the storm,
and I am the gale.

* I am... I exist...

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 24 august 2014

SUDDENLY SO!

Your truth always happened at wrong time
You were guilty of telling lies to death.
Swimming all over the life’s ports,
jumping up and down in a stinky swamp,
one day you were caught behind the epigram
encysted in perversity.

Let us talk about the frosty relations
breaking the norms.
Who is afraid of impromptu love?
We do not want to speak about the wasted
years thrown on garbage.
Every book was tossed out of the window,
mind became hollow.

We lit the candles with tears,
the mist enveloped us in intimacy.
Some of the days burned like dry wood
and some days grave-diggers arrived.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 23 august 2014

THE WAIT

No more venom for me. My throat is full
and sore is spurting.
King cobra, take rest. You must be tired
after going for so many bouts.
Sleep well. I have to wake till eternity.
The time is running out and I am ready
for judgement.
A miracle has happened in the hungry eyes.
God helped them to hang with folded hands.
Nobody cried for dead.
Spates of suicides told it verbatim..
Names of victims were engraved
on painted boards.
Souls were covered with innocent songs.

A brutal wind blows. Everything
looks normal and serene.
Dirty lanes are again full of trembling
legs in wait for the handouts.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 22 august 2014

UN - ME - ING ‘I’

I want to shake them off,
weird thoughts,
like a swarm of bees,
buzzing, whining, aimed at nothing.
Want to write me off?

Loneliness. I
observe the hands of a watch
looks like they are not moving.
Time stands still.
Waits for me to move.

An atavistic ache.
Again I view the world.
Every body is making a sound without bending.
With dreams dead I step into emptiness
barefoot, to feel the earth.

Not going to quit,
free to kill my ghost
I move into sunlight.

Satish Verma

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Joe Breunig, 21 august 2014

Poem: Let Me Touch His Garment

Many doctors had failed to heal her;
her wealth was gone; unable to cope,
seemingly having no options left, she…
faced the idea of being bereft of hope.

A difficult issue of continual bleeding,
had bothered this woman for twelve years;
purposely maneuvering through the crowd,
she hoped to meet Christ, and draw near.

“If only, I could physically touch Him,
my personal need can be forever met.”
Summoning the last of her inner strength,
she pressed onward without any regret.

Her health was dramatically worsening
and drastic action was now required;
since Christ was visibly close by,
perhaps healing she urgently desired

would become available to her this day.
Moving boldly with faith towards Him,
silently reaching out for his garment
with her weakened, slender limb…

she briefly caressed the hem of His robe.
And suddenly- her discomfort was gone!
Without warning, virtue leapt out of Him;
and now He wanted a face to gaze upon.

To everyone’s astonishment, He stopped;
then came the simple, unexpected question:
“Who touched me?” He patiently inquired.
Initially, there was apparent confusion,

from not knowing who, He was addressing.
Scared and embarrassed, she fell face down
at His feet, ready to weep and apologize.
“Rise up my daughter, from the dusty ground;

tell me your life’s story of suffering;
since your faith was successfully released,
My strength has cured you of your agony;
return home with my blessings and peace.”

Author Notes:

Loosely based on:
Mark 5:24-34

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

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

number of comments: 1 | rating: 1 | detail

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Latest items:

poetry

Poem: Love, Stability and Peace

A YEARNING

SYSIPHUS

Towards Vague Destination

HIERONOMO! *

AHAM ASMI... *

SUDDENLY SO!

THE WAIT

UN - ME - ING ‘I’

Poem: Let Me Touch His Garment

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