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poetry

Gert Strydom, 20 may 2016

When death’s fingers do me touch

When death’s fingers do me touch
do not let a preacher come
to pray for me.

I will walk alone with my God
who stands free from men
to meet Him face to face.

Do not let a doctor come
to take away the pain
or give the strain of tears

let me be to experience
the blazing sun setting in the west,
to see the moon rising in the night sky

let I live life and follow the course
that destiny designs
and still make your love mine.

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Satish Verma, 20 may 2016

Quivering Fetus

It was on. The heat!
When you could not tell the truth about yourself
something I would also not be able to tell it to myself.
How we were deceiving each other?
Why the death had come unannounced?

The mode of concrete reply was not grim.
Why did he go for an unscheduled rendezvous?
otters are going to be ostracized from water.

During eclipse sun entered the womb
spurting semen will make the earth wet.
One penetration, will it make a pregnancy?
Go for the wash, wipe the sin
from your face. Wheels of time will not stop.

My worries are freaking out.
I see a mob of stray dogs
pouncing on a lump of pink meat.
It was a quivering fetus!

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Gert Strydom, 19 may 2016

I wonder where is an untouched place that firmly does stand

Was the Son of God ever seen aeons ago strolling on South Africa’s farmland?
Did He take the fine red-brown earth in His omnipotent hand
where now are the factories, the furnaces and the concrete buildings of hell
and I wonder where is an untouched place that firmly does stand
while human beings are under money’s evil possessing spell?
(Still life is just a brittle, wilting, decaying strand
while we do in technological palaces dwell.)

Is there anybody who still does God’s countenance of love display
and who still does walk upon His righteous way
right up to the New Jerusalem
while the forces of darkness creep into the very day,
while God does keep the winds of war in check
or do I struggle alone along the narrow way?

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Satish Verma, 19 may 2016

Repeating History

My nativity at peril
I wanted to stay away from myself
seeking anonymity in inwardness

Death had drawn a circle
my mode of survival depended on
the hopelessness of life
The ant-hills were growing!

The final assault will take place at night
at spiritual depths.
I will be seething with fake acoustics.
Kissing the blue lips of dawn
night bids adieu.
I will move quietly behind the corpse
A dark tribute to the mother of sorrow.

Flames on river, my body was burning
in blue waves
I was repeating history.

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Gert Strydom, 18 may 2016

You never came

You never came
and time caught on to me
while I waited in vain

and still you did not know
that I was expecting you
to appear out of the blue.

Longing gave a wish to me
to be with you
but even though you love me too

the pressures of live demands
that I am here and you are there
and at times live isn’t fair

and divine you are
but a human still
and what can I say
but how much I miss you.

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Satish Verma, 18 may 2016

Cracking Of Dawn

Death was the beginning. My emancipation.
Death of pre-memory thoughts. I am ready to
enter the sound, without a shadow.
The fire from orifice, clouds, tears and
cascading blossoms in a humming night. Love,
clap and dissolution. The construction of timeless
energy. Flight of future. Your resistence
melting like lips, going beyond the chasm.
A sculpted freedom for prophets. False disguises,
some body else’s identity. Eyes were cool but
tears controlled by remote pain. Mirrors
spooking. A knife knows its job. It is better
to slice the sky. Great thirst for hip
graffiti, tattoos and sketches. To be seen
and admired by dregs of social fabric.
The thought surges like the heaving
breast, hangs on the face.
Death was the cracking of dawn.

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mvvenkataraman, 17 may 2016

Stay Boldly and Kindly, I Say

You try, you must try
That is the only way
To reach so high
And gloriously stay
When you die
All must for you pray
And together sadly cry
Respects, all will pay
If love is in your eye
If mercy, you display
You create a lovely tie
Everyday is your day
If you say never a lie
Driva anger ever away
Say to anger so good-bye
If for it you turn a prey
Can't save you even Sky
To keep away from dismay
You ask the question- Why?
Your doubts, you convey
Never fear or feel shy
Love all without delay
Love to none, you deny
A kind word you ever say
To help all you always try
For month you say 'may'
Doubt none by being a spy
Tell not at any time, 'I may'
Your firm mind, you imply
Go only on the right way
Affection, you kindly supply
For you is devoted this lay
View it not with a sigh.

mvvenkataraman

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Gert Strydom, 17 may 2016

I am afraid

I am afraid, my Lord divine,
that a life of constant trouble is mine,
that most men do part from Your ways
and do not see the way where Your glory does shine.

In this world of constant chaos You are the omnipotent deity,
the only one who set men from their troubles free
and yet evil brings this world closer to the Judgement Day
while all peace and rest is only in Thee,

while by science men try to prove that You are not
and a twisted, distorted view of You they have got
while with mercy and love You do offer restraint
and do not destroy, devour or remove the lot

while You do possess immortality,
are from the evil ways of this world free
and selfless love is in Your eternal plan
while You do dwell in infinity
and are trying to save all the descendants of man.

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Satish Verma, 17 may 2016

God Was Bleeding

And now the pain wants me to speak,
the words, but I wanted to listen
like winds and keep back the thoughts.

I refused to move from the scene.
God was bleeding
and his dolls were strewn around
on marble floor
broken, dismembered.

No tree was safe now.
The sky had cracked,
off the light. I cannot reach.

The dark thing shoves in,
from a precipice, I am falling,
falling!
The pomegranate blossoms?
Where are they?

I am not afraid of a terrorist.
I fear more of the shape
of the humanoid eyes
they are red, very red!

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Satish Verma, 16 may 2016

Parched Lips

Nothing to look forward
I return my gifts today.
Completely denuded I will spread out in emptiness.

I was nowhere in the circle of untruths,
the pain was slipping inside
and self-denial took its toll.

Nomad in exile
for the kiss of unknown
wandering in whispering streets.

There was no more remorse.
Saffron was the choice of pathos.
A collective suicide of pledges in the sun!

Parallel grief of desert and wind
offers the plundered toast
I drink to my parched lips.

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Latest items:

poetry

When death’s fingers do me touch

Quivering Fetus

I wonder where is an untouched place that firmly does stand

Repeating History

You never came

Cracking Of Dawn

Stay Boldly and Kindly, I Say

I am afraid

God Was Bleeding

Parched Lips

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