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poetry

Devon McElveen, 20 june 2013

Alone

Why do I enjoy this feeling?
Is that really a question?
Do you see the anguish that they have caused?
Do you see the strife?
The terror in their eyes?
The corruption that runs rampant?
Why do they cause war?
What do they fight for?
Is it their morals?
What morals?
Aren’t morals nothing but words thrown away near death?

Why do I live in the dark?
Aren’t the lights so blinding?
Don’t they shed light on our inner truths?
No matter how gruesome or terrifying?
Do you not like the dark?
Doesn’t it rid us of pointless thoughts?
Do you not feel serene here?
Do you not find salvation here?

Aloneness. Is it not a wondrous thing?

number of comments: 0 | rating: 1 | detail

Devon McElveen, 20 june 2013

2 Roads

There lies two roads before me,
One right, one left.
They seem to call to me
With every little step.

This is proving to be a conflict
Quite difficult to decide.
I’m having problems finding
Which one with which I should side.

What lies ahead on the right
Is a life of immense fame.
While the one on the left
Shows pride all the same.

But the problems that hide in each road
Are yet to be seen.
So I walk in the tall grass
That lies in between.

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Devon McElveen, 20 june 2013

Awaken

I used to think sleep was a way to escape.
A way to live happily, a way to find ambition.
But these images we conceive are merely fake
Once we break hold of this motionless position.
Within this, reality is but an illusion.
Though we believe this not to be true.
And to understand this may bring about confusion
But doing so we can begin anew.
To lie asleep, we can never live our lives.
Asleep, we have lied too long.
It is time that we open our eyes
So that again, we may move along.
Rise. We may never be given another chance
To be able to build, discover and advance.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 1 | detail

Devon McElveen, 20 june 2013

A Way With Words

When they say a man
Has a way with words
It means that his voice
Is easily heard.

To own this voice,
Trouble it brings.
Not all people like
When canaries sing.

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Geetima Baruah Sarma, 19 june 2013

DANSEUSE

She speaks through her steps,
Dancing and revolving,
Expressing her art,
Going beyond the self,
A bond with the Supreme power,
A complete surrender
Of the mind and the heart,
A performance
Filled with true devotion.

[Published in the 'feelings' column of 'Horizon', the Friday supplement of 'The Assam Tribune' on 7 June 2013]

number of comments: 1 | rating: 2 | detail

Gert Strydom, 19 june 2013

Early in the late night

Early in the late night
your hand creeps hot and soft over my breast,
and I feel emotion and a deeper urge burn.
Early in the late night
your hand creeps when dreams of a distant beach
are dissipated by a deeper thirst,
Early in the late night
your hand creeps hot and soft over my breast,

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Gert Strydom, 19 june 2013

Nowhere else my heart can be found

Nowhere else my heart can be found
as you are my true beloved
and still we remain sheltered in each other
although the worst destroying winds of life do blow

and even when the cold days of winter come in the cycle of life,
when the strength of youth runs into the days of old age,
our love remains rock steady in each other,
while daily I am astounded by your beauty and humanity,

and it’s still as if God does determine our lives,
is the writer of our own story
and in the cold nights we lie together
when the days of shadow linger

but still I do wonder why I had to wait a lifetime,
to have you in every night and day?

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Gert Strydom, 19 june 2013

That simultaneously love cam be both full of pain and pleasure (in answer to Johann De Lange)

That simultaneously
love can be both full of pleasure and pain,
can be full of times of despair and grief
and still can bring the greatest joy
I did not know
until I did fall in love with you.

Not even that you could be both the fire and ice,
could burn me to ash,
that you could make me mad about you,
can chase passion past the highest point
and still I do wonder
why the pain can at times cut right through me
and moments can decay to nothing
and how you can in a mere moment
make everything whole and right?

[Reference: “Purdah” by Johann De Lange.]

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Satish Verma, 19 june 2013

TOXIC MEMORY

They were teaching how to butcher
the lamb
and suspend the bines with
drooping hops.
I climbed out of my ashes towards
a marinated moon turned blue in consternation.

Warts and all, here we were ready
to pick up the lost threads to start
a conversation about the hurricane making
landfall, in near future.

After the fall, graffiti appeared on
the clouds, spurting sperms
on the stars.

Satish Verma

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

steven cooke, 18 june 2013

A Flawed Prophet

I am a successful surgeon
but In reality I am a failure.
For I pay for the company of life.
I pay to be human,
pay for the understanding
that my patients receive for free.

I am the geek in the corner
the wall paper that eyes don’t see.
My bond is with god
for he shows me his creation
and I must correct his mistakes.

Vanity is to say such things
but the sick will come to my door.
They gamble that I could be a saviour
for fear is anointed by hope.

The good and the bad
will sell their convictions.
My hand can cheat
the cards which have been dealt,
and my face belongs to
this poker game,
we call life.

I am the fall guy too
who will walk down the corridor to hopeful eyes.
But remember where there is god
the devil exists too
and you will judge me.

For I must bare my soul
in the darkness of defeat
that tells your relatives that I lost.

I failed to grab the hand of life
which held the royal flush
that no player can defeat,
and I will feel your doubts
that perhaps I am not
the perfect prophet you thought me to be.

In truth I am a glorified mechanic.
I am the surgeon that repairs your vices,
I am the bloody hands that remove your pain.
I can make you beautiful
I can change your heart,
though I need the sacrifice of the departed to help.

And when age threatens your life
money will save the chosen few,
In the illusion of immortality.
Though time will always be the clown
that will always laugh at you in the mirror.

I am a tinker of time
who fears the night.
I shake hands with the dead,
receive tributes from the living
and somewhere in between I see the dawn.

Sanity is a lonely place for me.
My indiscretion is grateful for her apartment
for I need her beauty to take away today
and a shower to wash away mankind.

She removes my pain with love
so I can feel human from this butchers table.
Sodom and Gomorra’s a small price to pay
for my patients to see
the sun for one more day.

God never gave me good looks
but he gave me a steady hand.
A hand that can caress your heart
for I am a maverick that puzzles him.

In truth I could be a monster,
I will not cry when you die.
Blood is just another day,
though I hate to lose
as all gamblers will tell you.

But who amongst you would care
about a stranger who gives you life.
For in truth even the devil
would make me a hero,
as long as I save a sinners life.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 3 | detail

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Latest items:

poetry

Alone

2 Roads

Awaken

A Way With Words

DANSEUSE

Early in the late night

Nowhere else my heart can be found

That simultaneously love cam be both full of pain and pleasure (in answer to Johann De Lange)

TOXIC MEMORY

A Flawed Prophet

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