poetry

poetry
Joe Breunig

Joe Breunig, 29 may 2016

Poem: Darkest Moments

In my darkest moments, O Lord,
You are the illumination I need;
the lamp of Thy Holy Word glows
with Your Truth and I concede

the value of Your principles.
Despite my feelings, emotions
and thoughts, I’m still assured
that I can raise my perception

to conform to Your high standard.
Your soft Light, easily penetrates
the darkest moments of my life;
the narrow path, leads me straight

to You and Your unending Love.
Therefore, I’ll trust Your Word;
storing it within my heart insures
that my spirit will remain stirred.
 
 
 
Author notes

Inspired by:
2 Sam 22:29; John 8:12

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 29 may 2016

Search

It was otherness which bothered me: 
nothing happened otherwise. 
Brisk and upright 
He failed penultimately. 
 
I still hear the footfalls 
of circumstances, 
of retreated sounds. 
 
The hidden fire lights up 
I squirm in pain. 
The canopy of false rumors 
falls on dirty road. 
 
His gangrene was evident; 
still he walked with a glow, 
all alone, but listening to howling 
and surveying the floods of tears. 
 
A single argument 
lifts the tanned skin 
displeases the mob 
and abandons the search.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 28 may 2016

Charity

Sometimes death lives for eternity, 
a captive of silence, 
or in hidden journey to flesh; 
unless the body betrays the falling stars from eyes. 
 
Dying was an appropriate thing 
a festival of freedom for veils, 
to leave you alone with your morality. 
 
This terrible life ejects you 
on the gravel to become a stone. 
The fall from the beautiful height 
was meant for charity. 
 
No body wants to die for a toss-up 
with life, 
for a secret game of tears and smile. 
The true thing of despair generates 
a darkness, whom I owe my light.


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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 27 may 2016

I have missed my country

I have missed my country
and suddenly did land in another world
where everything is third worldly
and does fall apart and is backwards.
 
Before I could wipe my eyes
people are working in government offices
and they do believe that the day of tomorrow will come
to do the things that is necessary
 
with those that had been qualified
pensioned off early
so that everything is in a mad confusion
and I am lost on another planet. 


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 27 may 2016

Void

As if my inner sound was demanding 
take me for 
meiosis; 
I want to break into many daughter things. 
 
Half my genes 
half my color 
partly male 
partly female 
disowning the boundaries, 
my lasting pain of grief and anguish 
becomes an androgynous god. 
 
I hear the voices in brain 
I see the nebulous thoughts dancing 
I touch the fallen tears 
from faceless eyes. 
 
All my thoughts are leading to void 
coming from nowhere 
going to nowhere, 
I am water and I am sand!
 


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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 26 may 2016

The sardine run

Near autumn each year
shoals of spawning sardines gather
to travel from their living arias
(in the Southern and Western Cape)
along the hot waters of the Agulhas Current
moving inshore against the coastline
(up to about Durban)
before dispersing and travelling
back to their home waters.
 
Hungry gannets hover above the shoals
before diving from heights
of up to thirty meters
with wings half closed
piercing the water like arrowheads
 
gulping down fish
as fast as they can,
floating on the water in great numbers,
having lost the ability to fly.
squawking as if complaining
that they cannot eat anymore.
 
On the fringes of the shoals
huge numbers of sharks, stingray, kob,
skates, kingfish, tunny,
barracuda, snoek, tuna, and bonito lurk
in the warm water
but never going
right into the shoals
 
and ashore numerous anglers
are trying to catch game fish
all along the coastline
while the sardine run is on
 
and some people
gather buckets full of sardines
from the waves on the beach
if the fish dare it
too near to the shore.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 26 may 2016

Suicides

In despair, 
beyond-pain, I will watch my dreams 
in rimless eyes of wet faces. 
 
The lake had been sending back 
the white and black shrouds 
everyday. 
 
They were jumping one by one 
old and young, 
from the twisted planks 
holding geraniums. 
 
A warm prayer on the lips, 
what was left worth enduring? 
The innocence, the guilt, the shame? 
 
Clinging to bloody lumps of happiness 
who is going to have a last laugh? 
Time is breathing gloom, 
body is attached to a pole.


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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 25 may 2016

He lies stretched out in the sun

He lies stretched out in the sun
in the area next to the rugby field
that is still wildly overgrown at places
where a game reserve had been at a time.
 
He is safely fenced in,
protected against homeowners,
even some schoolboys
that wants to throw rocks at him
 
and like a wild animal
his hiding place is in the thick grass,
in the thicket and trees around him
there are birds that gambol
and some are building their nests.
 
He watches them somewhat hidden and amused
and he looks with mistrust
at the young man
that notices and calls him.
 
Ignoring the human he washes himself further,
does stretch out contently in the sun
and he cannot decide if he wants to climb a tree
or do want to find his prey in the gutter,
 
where he watches the world with his cat eyes
which yellow-green
does regard everything around him
and where he lies stretched out
he is the king of his own region.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 25 may 2016

Of Gods And Virgins

Treading on burning cinders 
it was a saga of fear versus unknown. 
Stripped, before drooping eyes 
scarred, armless, unflying. 
 
Into the regeneration phase: 
not a single word, single concern 
of yourself, you walked to arrive 
without adding a question. 
 
There was a movement without ripples, 
death of the black, mottled, many. 
I, becoming transcendental scion 
of whole, sincere entity. 
 
Melting to start a romance 
in the house of petals, 
of fragrant pheromones 
deluging the phoenix. 
 
To want the crowd, select a colossus 
cadaver spreading on mushrooms in field 
erect a man in white bones, unrivalled 
jealousy of virgins and gods.
 


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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 24 may 2016

Africa

When I look to my own continent
there are only ruins of places
that at a time was glamorous and I struggle to fit in
the beautiful places where waterfalls does roar
and I see people who are ravaged by famine, war,
unrest and a population explosion,
people who die from pestilence,
who live totally immoral,
and wild animals do disappear into hungry stomachs,
while I am blinded by the sand
as if the desert is crawling
deeper and deeper into the continent
and the political majority does devour everything
until nothing is left for anybody.


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