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poetry
Gert Strydom, 26 may 2014
My Lord, You do know all of the masks
My Lord, You do know all of the masks that I wear for the world
and also all of the things that are hidden deep in my heart.
My deepest secrets are known to You
and even the things that I do not want to admit to myself.
Gert Strydom, 26 may 2014
Outside a church
While we walk around the church,
I tread on the lawn at the painted flint-glass windows
and see her calves with three doves as her company,
there is some gravel, in the distance a train whistles.
With a reaching hand Jesus hangs on a cross,
He is vituperated where blood flows down in a puddle.
She takes my hand while we walk all over the garden
and fear is seen, like it was at the time.
Still she holds onto my hand while bees turn around us,
branches swing in the wind and the sky is dull blue,
some drops of dew glistens and the lawn is cleanly cut
and her eyes shine while she holds onto my hand.
Gert Strydom, 26 may 2014
On a Sunday
(after Jules Laforgue)
The rain is sifting down for days now,
how depressing, the rain is, lover.
On the sea there’s no ship to be seen,
only the grey sky and sea not even a bird.
At dusk no couples are passing,
only a car or two sprays water.
A girl with a big black dog passes
and they look cold and wet.
What a sorry sight while she sneezes
and both are shivering.
What is it with her? She is running
right into the ocean!
She drags her dog along,
flinging herself into the sea.
There’s no one to rescue her
or the drowning dog.
The lights all over the suburb
is flickering on in this cosy town.
How depressing, the rain is, lover.
The rain is sifting down for days now.
[Reference: Sundays by Jules Laforgue.]
Satish Verma, 25 may 2014
THE OTHER SMILE
Death will not measure
the height,
from which we fall.
Not being,
the psyche of primeval fear
finds its conscience –
subverts the softness
of moon-eyed life
with wealth of green blood
in brown bread.
And the white candle
burns at night
to send aurora borealis
in blue irises.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 24 may 2014
SHIFTING PAIN
A silent wrath sits in a pool
of blood, will start a battle
over the footprints of sponges
who soaked the history.
The flow of endurance, lava on
the tongue triggers discontent
for a riot of spawned hunger.
One transparent self under the rocks
moans, falls to explosion, sways in
dim smoke. For the authenticity of future
we are killing the serpent
who drinks milk
from your hands
and protects your treasure.
The tranquility is little bloated
like grape seed extract.
Satish Verma
Stephen J. Vattimo, 23 may 2014
Can You Come Out And Play?
Knock...Knock..Knock,
Can you come out and Play?
Steal the key from the warden.
Unlock the shackle that keep you trapped inside.
It's a beautiful day
Come out and play?
Don't hanging silently on the wall with the other wall flowers.
It's time to break free and express your self.
Don't be afraid to sing a different tune.
We are not all created to be the same at this elevation.
So you don't have to play it safe .
You can buck against the hypnotic beat that is echoing through the radio and the television stations .
Can you come out and play?
Don't be afraid to go against the flow of yesterday.
To day is a gift from God to make a new vibration.
It's time to go out and play.
Life is like playing a musical instrument in a hall.
The walls are people.
the hall is time.
Be wise in the song you play,
For your words and actions will echoing off the people and be carried down through the halls of time.
Knock...Knock..Knock,
Can you come out and Play?
Will you make A difference today?
Written by Stephen J. Vattimo
Feb 18 2013
Stephen J. Vattimo, 23 may 2014
Freed Soul
Tortured soul
Struggling to survive another day of wearing the chains of voluntary slavery,to earn my keep.
Struggling to labor with my fellow slaves,
some try to cut me like glass,
while other try to break my bone like rocks.
Tortured soul
Long to break free from these chains that hold me to the ground.
Longing to spread wrings of creativity,to earn my keep.
Souring on the winds of Art,poetry,comedy.
Rising from the dust of a tortured soul to the rebirth of a fulfilled soul.
Using the God given gifts of creativity to bring color into A gloomy world.
That fellow slave to sin,may open their hearts of glass or stone to God,that through His Holy spirit their hearts will become like clay.
So God can mold them into the beautiful image of his Son.
Written by Stephen J .Vattimo
Sept 19 2013
Gert Strydom, 23 may 2014
Sometimes I want to know the reasons why from You
Sometimes I want to know the reasons why from You
when it feels as if You are forgetting me in Your ultimate plan
and there is no deliverance or light that I do see,
when it feels as if everything is resting on a big perchance
and maybe people did feel like this from the time of Adam
while time was running away from them
and when I do fall I ask You for new hope,
that You do continue to walk ahead on the road of life
and my Lord, when it goes difficult on some days
show me where You are still standing next to me.
Gert Strydom, 23 may 2014
Lady, I cannot strip your soul from mine (Collins Sestets)
(after Dante Gabriel Rossetti)
How will I explore the depths of love,
through its difficulties to the shore move
on the pathways that to me are not trod
if our sincere feelings is not from God?
Lady, I cannot strip your soul from mine
or live without you, this bond is divine.
Love sincerely binds together evermore,
cause two people to together explore
the days and wonders and the pains of life
both in happiness and in times of strive.
Lady, I cannot strip your soul from mine
or live without you, this bond is divine.
Between us there is ample evidence,
that our feelings are grounded and intense,
daily with each other feelings are dear
past hope, past joy and pass all kinds of fear.
Lady, I cannot strip your soul from mine
or live without you, this bond is divine.
[Reference: “Heart’s hope” by Dante Gabriel Rossetti.]
Satish Verma, 23 may 2014
AFTER SERIAL BLASTS TO MAKE A POINT
After seeding the clouds
they were going to buy wet lips.
Seven minutes to make a bomb:
a micro-chip, ammonium nitrate and a circuit,
one headless body squirts a long jet of blood.
Run, run for the cover, with nuggets of
wailing times. Black walls intercept the flames.
A nimbus suspends the door.
Cryptic commands fail. A body sprawls
on payment for wheels to move. You
hand me a child to find his bilolgical mother.
A long manifesto makes the cadaver shrink.
Clocks spin in frenzy. Mirrored people
look like ghosts. A city burns.
Satish Verma
Latest comments:
23 january 2026
violetta
Muśnięcie z każdej strony:)
23 january 2026
Jaga
Wiosna to dopiero będzie całowana :)
23 january 2026
Igiełki lodu tworzą różne kompozycje. Poprzednio
23 january 2026
Serce puch igiełkowe:)
23 january 2026
Nie ma już ASa, a dawał mi serduszka.
23 january 2026
Chwila bardziej ulotna.
23 january 2026
Każdej zimy stawiam karmniki i zapełniam. Moi
23 january 2026
Lodowe grunty czasem rozgrzewają ;))
23 january 2026
Piękna opowieść, ale dziadka spotkało. Ją
22 january 2026
sam53
bardzo możliwe... choć słyszałem o podgrzewanych
22 january 2026
W nocy u mnie było -10 Przemrożone skorupy
22 january 2026
to szczególnie ;) eh, gdyby nie czas...
23 january 2026
wiesiek
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Jaga
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