poetry

poetry
Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 6 november 2013

I am waiting for you to return

I am but a normal kind of guy
but there are times that I do cling to love
as if it’s going to disappear trackless
between you and me
and sometimes like everyone I do hide behind a mask,
at times I want to disguise the pain
and believe that everything is alright
as you has become part of me,
you are intertwined into my own humanity
and in you I do drown.
I miss you every day when you leave
and wait on you to return
as it’s as if part of me
 is gone to another place.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 6 november 2013

ONCE UPON

Robbing the silence of heights
to undo the whole sky, you lean on
an enigma to become reverential,

elevated by an absurd system;
I was still pursuing fidelity
in the rubble of meaningless life;

not faith, but certain urge to follow
the doorway to unknown, something to be done
for the hungry child’s scream,

the truth that was not there, nor with the
inclined gods of tomorrow. Then where
shall we meet in the grazing bones

of new born human culture?
The instant music of death wish lingers on a moon
and then flies away in a kiss.


Satish Verma


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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 5 november 2013

If words could

If words could
they would have conveyed my meaning
as my love does glitter like the sun
but between us it did become silent
and now I am short of the right words
 
and sometimes when we are together I still do feel alone
as if not even my eyes, my mouth can pervade
and bring the right message to you:
 
that to me you are precious
and that I do love you endlessly.


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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 5 november 2013

Time came to a halt

Time came to a halt
and hanged like the watches of Salvidor Dali
while you were part of me,
when two people did become one,
were scouting each other’s bodies
and lips and fingers
did flutter and dance like butterflies.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 5 november 2013

GOING NOWHERE

On the blue icicles
you were colliding with orbiting electrons

naked legs on rocking chair
were expecting the visual words to spook

for clairvoyance with the sun decline beyong borders

my eyes are damp, I know the bottom
was echoing after the shipwreck nevertheless,
archives were swimming in muddy water.

Can you defeat the throb of pain?

The fake drunkenness of bailouts, it was
still not happening - the whiteness of dawn, only
gray clouds over the peaks, speckled with

orange blooms, the shadows of red blood,
a million despairs of avenging marriages
of voices in dark sea.


Satish Verma


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Geetima Baruah Sarma

Geetima Baruah Sarma, 4 november 2013

A SLEEPLESS NIGHT

She kept awake
whole night long,
her eyelids
refused to bow
and a thought
whirled
round and round.
Seconds, minutes
and hours gone,
slumber stood
at the threshold,
the moon sailed
through the sky
reflecting light
all around
but her thought
recurred
round and round.
She felt miserable
and it seemed as if
huge black curtains
were forcefully
pulled before her,
blocking her vision
of radiant light,
leaving her
farthest behind,
leaving her
all alone,
all by herself.
 
 
[Published in 'Induswomanwriting.com' in November 2013 issue] 


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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 4 november 2013

Performing magic with words

I tried to perform magic with words
but I could not find the right ones
and somewhere along the way
I had almost lost my faith in our love
 
but still I remained true
while the thunders did roar about me
and I feel as if the darkness
was about to devour me
 
and still I did care,
kept faith in all of the tomorrows
that still has got to come
 
and maybe I took everything too seriously,
as if our love was a solution to everything
 
and now I do wonder
if you do still believe
that everything will come right
 
when with empty hands,
with only words and love
I stand before you?


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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 4 november 2013

There is something earthly about you

There is something earthly about you
where you are planting a bush of yellow marigolds,
around you the wind blows,
in bright hot sun
and I smell the Moondrops perfume
coming from your neck, face and hair.
 
The grass and ground are like your eyes,
your blouse and skirt are moss-green
and between us there is a comfortable silence
where along the palisades
we are removing weeds and grass shoots.
 
In the distance I see the chimneys
of Impala Platinum
that shines like quicksilver
where as always
white smoke is going into the air
 
and as on every Friday
in the distance alarms are ringing
one after the other
 
but the silence between us
say more than words
and I press my nose into your hair,
embrace you for a moment,
see the four-by-four of the neighbour pulling in
while his dogs are barking excitedly
 
and I smell rain and sunflowers
and are tied to this country
and feel how vulnerable you are,
 
red and pink Iceberg-roses are flowering
brown, yellow, blue and white irises,
marigolds and geraniums of every colour
and the garden is a wonderland in the sun.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 4 november 2013

TIME TO ANSWER *

This wake, I owed it to you, my defining moment:
for the raw melding, of life imprisonement
and death behind the bars. The sin had

seeped slowly in the foundations. A blurred view
of the caravan passing on the shifting sand
of quarter-century; the devastation had turned

black in smug oasis, the victim will not
become virgin again. Blind dead will monitor
the course of grievers. On to her tongue

I leave the endless stars and you will forget
the bull-dosed windows and weeping walls
of incaracerated house where the daily meals

were sex and rape; the strange shadows
of crime and pardon are breaking now
in blue sky after the defeating moon.


* After hearing the verdict on Josef Fritzl on 19th March 09


Satish Verma


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Milena Sušnik Falle

Milena Sušnik Falle, 3 november 2013

VEZICE


Nikoli
ne spregovorim
o samotnih obrežjih,
mehkobnih senc
svojega rastja,
vijugasti strugi reke sna,
mrtve ljubezni na njej,
bohotno bizarni enoličnosti,
ki plaho razpira nedra,
vezice duše nemi.
 
Nikoli,
ne spregovorim
o razsutih črepinjah sonca
na pragu navade,
ne nizko razgibanih
korakih vsakdana,
ne sijaju položenem vame,
mehkobno – na moje rane,
kdaj pa kdaj – tudi ne včasih,
govorica v očeh vzkipi.
 
 
Milena Sušnik Falle - Slovenija

 


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