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poetry

Satish Verma, 11 october 2013

HAND GLOVES

today i am not one whole, placid;
blood streaked globe of full moon
was hovering over me all night
to freeze a ruined landscape, i was
not ready for the departure, untying
the knots of water, like the storm opening
the mouth of a hidden cave in a deep sea,
there was anything unsaid between us,
a new verb joining strange nouns, the lips
swimming in coral tears, amid the frail
words of assaults and wounds of fractured
signatures; in the end are left only the orbits

Satish Verma

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Joe Breunig, 10 october 2013

Poem: All Scripture Is…

The indelible precision of God’s holy Word
has been fine tuned for the Human soul;
genuine application of its divine secrets
will assist us to become spiritually whole.

For the Scriptures are meant to be profitable,
and were originally encased by Jehovah’s breath.
The sacred aspirations for Man’s eternal life
are contained in principles for overcoming death.

Agnostic skeptics of circular Biblical arguments,
intentionally chose to ignore The Word’s confirmations;
meanwhile, we know that the text is open to reproof,
as we study precepts for seeking our divine connection.

For it’s only in God, that one can find completeness,
seeing that we strive to live in brotherly accord;
be trained and equipped with His divine influence
since all Scripture is… God’s inspirational word.

Author Notes:

Loosely based on:
2 Tim 3:16-17

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.

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Geetima Baruah Sarma, 10 october 2013

SEASON SOJOURN

O winged ones,
You come in thousands
From distant lands
To enjoy the cool lap
Of the winter season
And enjoy your sojourn.
Don’t you feel weary
Flying across the miles?
I overwhelm with
Feelings of wonder
As I observe your unity,
Strength and splendour.

[Published in 'PoemsClub.com' on 10 October 2013]

number of comments: 1 | rating: 2 | detail

Gert Strydom, 10 october 2013

During the last days of winter

During the last days of winter
we have planted
white Iceberg roses,
blue, purple and yellow irises,
geraniums of the F3 hybrid
and all colours of gazanias
along the palisade of the front garden

and even grass-carnations, pansies,
and Sweet Williams are already flowering
and even a bush of yesterday-today-and-tomorrow
brings a kind of beauty to what life is.

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Gert Strydom, 10 october 2013

There is something great to gardening (Persian / Rubiyat quatrain)

There is something great to gardening
and in these early days of spring
some birds do frolic and flutter
while others do sing

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Satish Verma, 10 october 2013

ARROGANCE

Sometimes it pours like hot
drips of melted wax from a candlestick;
your migraine.

I wanted armistice.
Untangle the lies,
I am not in your firing line.

The tulips in the barrel of your gun
cannot forgive the bullets.
There will be no ceremony after the funeral.

Give a slice of blue departure
of moon to light the beach,
there was a brutal murder on the lake

among the muffled waves of protest
in the home of insanes, who were
praying for the sun to return.

Satish Verma

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Gert Strydom, 9 october 2013

The forsaking (Canzonetta)

(after Sir Thomas Wyatt)

She whom once did me seek flee away
and it is somewhat kind of strange to me
that something did change and she cannot stay
as if I have some kind of iniquity
while she hides behind a sweet kind of guise
and it is very strange this sad awakening
comes as a sudden kind of dim surprise
as there is much pain in the forsaking

and in the morning’s bright new day
she does continually want to be free
even the kind of music that she plays
has a kind of rebellion that I see,
when I do touch her, her arm hairs do rise
and all of this has me worried and thinking,
makes me cry right up to the red sunrise,
as there is much pain in the forsaking

and I will have her right back if I may
but that is not how things are going to be
while to another lover she is set to stray,
want to make me for her sake feel guilty
and to want her back, to stay is unwise
but terribly my heart keeps on aching
and of her intents I can just surmise,
as there is much pain in the forsaking.

[Reference: “The lover showeth how he is forsaken” “They flee from me that sometime did me seek” by Sir Thomas Wyatt.]

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Gert Strydom, 9 october 2013

To me you seemed more beautiful than any other girl

(after Gert Vlok Nel)

On a campus in Summerset West you did look at me
and to me you seemed more beautiful than any other girl
with the sun shining out of your eyes
and I brought you roses, about a thousand times,
tried to write poems to you
and you were in my blood, my head and body.
I did later hear
that you had lost your head on a doctor
with a child coming from that love
and stupidly I thought maybe we could start all over.

but things changed and we did separate
and forever you wanted me out of your life
until a day where your world did fall apart,
when your new husband thought that you were mad
when you did drink some pills
and on the telephone you did sound very sad.
I did later hear
that you had lost your head on a doctor
with a child coming from that love
and stupidly I thought maybe we could start all over.

You told me that you were never untrue,
your glance did fit with you beautiful words,
your body was covered by a flowery sun-dress
and at Sun City it was only you and me
and I remembered the days in the apartment in Bellville
how we did cling shivering to each other in the bedroom.
I did later hear
that you had lost your head on a doctor
with a child coming from that love
and stupidly I thought maybe we could start all over.

But on that day we did nothing
and we did not even kiss each other
and when you did smile my heart did go wild
but in your life there were more than just the two of us
and still my heart was broken.
I did later hear
that you had lost your head on a doctor
with a child coming from that love
and stupidly I thought maybe we could start all over
but with the things of women I was rather silly.

[Reference; “Beautiful in Beaufort-Wes” by Gert Vlok Nel.]

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Satish Verma, 9 october 2013

GREEN NIGHT

Deep down thighs, unhoisted,
what was there, harvesting the sperms? At dusk
an inflorescence breaks into myriads
of fireworks, wrecked apologia,
interned unlikeness, insanity, kissing the goldenrod
to start the flow of bare grief.

I deserve no nobility, my moonscape
has a blazing truth about a shooting star
which went into a gape groaning. Somebody
is done for, for a fragile skull. The riverbed
buries the dead child in white sands.

That lump rises again. I said, I never carry
the death on my shoulders. Wrap up and play
the drums for I lost the pathways to enemie

Satish Verma

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Geetima Baruah Sarma, 8 october 2013

TIME

Time waits for none,
A moment if we shun,
We'll find the difference,
Its worth, packed with chance.
It can make us or mar us,
Every second depends on us,
Whether we plan properly,
Or be idle, lazy and sleepy.
It's certainly a great healer,
Also life's best teacher,
The perfect time is the present,
To utilise it and win a present.

[Published in 'Fire bird poetry' on 7 October 2013 and 'PoemsClub.com' on 9 October 2013]

number of comments: 1 | rating: 1 | detail

10 - 30 - 100

Latest items:

poetry

HAND GLOVES

Poem: All Scripture Is…

SEASON SOJOURN

During the last days of winter

There is something great to gardening (Persian / Rubiyat quatrain)

ARROGANCE

The forsaking (Canzonetta)

To me you seemed more beautiful than any other girl

GREEN NIGHT

TIME

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