Latest items:

poetry

Satish Verma, 15 july 2013

FLYING BEARD

like ether, permeating all space
mesmerizing,
he walked away, head of his enemy
in his hand,

like a trophy?
frighteningly orangish
a decapitated body shudders.

The holy war
demands its price of a joke.
The face of red and blue.

A terrible reminder of a snaky past
that kills the puppets. The hands
dance in air.

The irrepairable, pink wounds
bleed, sweat smoke
of death?

Satish Verma

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma, 15 july 2013

FLYING BEARD

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Satish Verma, 14 july 2013

BREATHING DUST

Do not stoke the desires tonight,
my moon is away on the cusp of doubts.
Count you must the needles in heart, of
ifs and buts? A fragile truce was anathema
to me. The nagging day lies ahead-

of my failing gifts. Living was a whispering
silence, no secrets had a spite for you.
A fine drizzle of thoughts fills the lungs,
mind cries for the space to arrange
the corpses of dreams.

The uncertainties take a heavy toll.
A new voice precedes a wet moon,
the sun was rising late today, living apart.

Satish Verma

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Milena Sušnik Falle, 13 july 2013

PROZORNI KRISTALI JUTRA

To jutro
odsevajo v meni,
kakor v rosni travi,
prozorni kristali neke čutnosti.

Dan bo zanesljivo dolg.
Svetloba ni barve
tvojih oči,
zbledela bo
za vrati noči.

V tem jutru
potujem
nasproti mrakobnim potezam
večera.

Dan bo zanesljivo dolg.
Na grudih jutra
poseda zaslepljenost časa,
negotovost kljuva,
pričakujočo puščobo dneva.

Milena Sušnik Falle - Slovenija
(pesniška zbirka Prozorni kristali jutra)

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Milena Sušnik Falle, 13 july 2013

POLNOČNI RITEM

Pozno je.
Kar je ostalo
od enoličnega večera
niha
v noč –
otožno
krute
so stvari
ob meni.

Polnočnost
se ziba v tišini –
turobno nebo
neslišno odpečava
drobne kaplje
dežja.

Bedim.
V krču noči
med vrelci stiske
po tirnicah bolečine
proti vstajenju
deževnega jutra
drsim.

Milena Sušnik Falle - Slovenija
(pesniška zbirka Prozorni kristali jutra)

number of comments: 0 | rating: 1 | detail

Satish Verma, 13 july 2013

MOODS

coming out of the frame,
in evening without a sun, unflinchingly,
he said, he was talking to his father
daily, in his mind, who was in grave,
(when he was on ventilator)
about a lesson of deception, about the things
evolved in endogamy,

cherubic, it seems, but there was water on the moon too,
in solitude, on gravel, under the rocks;
he kept on washing his hands for hours,
to remove the dirt and stigma, gathered on shaking
the lamps around the dark and then he started
collecting the flowers from the embroidery
of clouds

do not cry in the afternoon

Satish Verma

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Bron Dayvid, 12 july 2013

As Bad As It Seams

At the core of poverty lies a thick quilt of malice

Embroidered in greed
And fabricated promises
Stitched by the tailor and seamstress
Whose hands,
callused and bruised by years of depression ,oppression and
Intermediate progression, thwarted by "inadvertent" regression,

threads the very needle that severs their souls and punctures their spirits

It is Unbeknownst to the tailor and seamstress that the very quilt they sew, once completed, will wrap itself around their throats, deplete their life's earnings, and render them lifeless

The tailor and seamstress, broken, aged and afflicted with angst, will be said to have had self-inflicted wounds when they discover their bodies

Investigations will find no objecting evidence

Their families will mourn
Their bodies will be buried

But the quilt
The smothering life absorbing quilt
Will continue to be threaded ,stitched, and patched

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Bron Dayvid, 12 july 2013

ART

The greatest honor that any artist can receive for a piece of art is to have it render its spectators absolutely speechless

In doing so any artist has done one of two extremes

The artist has either created such a masterpiece that's its transcendent beauty and otherworldliness leaves even the most astute critic devoid of thought

The grandeur of this work of art is so intense that once observed
Its image is burned into the soul of viewer like a brand to an unsuspicious calf

"Genius!" they'll yell prematurely
And whatever other words they can find to calculate and depreciate the value of the art

Or the contrary

The artist could have created something so unworldly something so sullied something so appalling and mindless that the neat pompous critics simply brush it away as if not to get a spec of dirt on their lavish sports coats

Breathless as in not worth a single gasp of air
Speechless as if unworthy of diction

And yet this is still an honor for any artist

For in their ignorance in their incompetence is complete silence

The stillness necessary for true beauty to speak for itself

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

POEWHIT, 12 july 2013

H E A V E N

Beyond all.
Earth just a ball.
We are so small.
Yet - God loves all.
We pray to call.
God knows our hall.
Help from a ball.
Wait till next fall.

7/2013 POEWHIT

JESUS SAVES

number of comments: 1 | rating: 1 | detail

Gert Strydom, 12 july 2013

My words keep on wandering

When I bring you a flower
from our garden,
then you do smile radiating like the sun,
while for moments
you are astounded by the beauty

and you do draw a picture for me
where you lie naked
stretched out in the sheets
and I wish that I could somehow
catch your beauty in a verse,

your hair that hangs in locks,
your smile that goes through all of my barricades
but my words are only wandering around
as if they have got nowhere to go.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

10 - 30 - 100

Latest items:

poetry

FLYING BEARD

FLYING BEARD

BREATHING DUST

PROZORNI KRISTALI JUTRA

POLNOČNI RITEM

MOODS

As Bad As It Seams

ART

H E A V E N

My words keep on wandering

Latest comments:

contact with us