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poetry

Satish Verma, 22 june 2014

NAKEDNESS

Dying piece by piece in shock –
a life without a mutiny.
Walking amidst blue kraits
you never raised the stick.

Of extinct possibilities in the night
of unmanned crossing-
the blood streaked globe goes on
revolving round the blazing sun.

Short legged pygmies waving
to tall peaks of ice from the
burnt-out shelters, to learn
obedience again.

Crushed and upturned, we lost
each other in the jungle of
uncertainties. Peeled off skin
made us afraid of each other.

Satish Verma

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Satish Verma, 21 june 2014

BLACK MAGIC

He was still paying the price
for ultimate unbending.
Before the black icon locked the waves
to start tremors for an apolitical murder.

He took the call and stood straight,
stopped the melodrama of drinking the venom
and became larger than death.
This is the story of a common man,

who remained silent, went on looking
for the invisible marks on the ornamental sword
carved after every farewell to the severed
head of another clan.

Satish Verma

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Gert Strydom, 20 june 2014

The starry night

(in answer to Anne Sexton)

With stars exploding above my head
the moon creeping
as a large yellow ball in to the heights
there is no sight
of the unseen serpent
striking at the light,
neither does it roar our with flaming breath,
nor do I see it causing any death,
only do I see the hand of God
in the intensity, the pleasure
of the sparkling shiny things
as a minutely small human being
against the enormity of it all.

[Reference: “The Starry Night” by Anne Sexton.]

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Gert Strydom, 20 june 2014

When that moment comes

When that moment suddenly comes beautifully
while you clothes fall at your feet
you slowly fold open like a pure white flower
and my life, my universe comes to a standstill
and I do not hear shots being fired far off outside
when energy and yearning quivers through us
and I become just more than an animal,
while your eyes shine and glitter like emery
and moments are full of what we are and want to be.

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Gert Strydom, 20 june 2014

When the new world is unknown

Like every coloured leave
falling in the autumn
with trees standing skeleton
the days of each human being runs out
while time continually keeps going on,
when expectations and acts that are gambled away are lost
as opportunities that cannot come to reality
and when all hope and dreams at a time come to an end
and that which had been is eternally passed,
when even ability and knowledge
cannot change the new world
and everything just fades away into memory
of that which may have been
then the new world is unknown and full of fear

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Satish Verma, 20 june 2014

PRIDE OF VALLEY

When the battle lines were drawn,
the only mandate
for the human torpedo was to blow up
the silence of time.

Sick was the death-struck
new born, praise of the ghost of tiger
in the name of glory of green eyes.
The orange moon was absolutely naked;

the snow dripped in a cave to form a cone
and the valley was burning wide.
The bag of charcoal given
to a shephered had turned into gold-

nuggets at home. The vultured sky
was claiming more bodies.
A miracle was swelling the crowd
and the crown was proud of deaths.

Satish Verma

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Joe Breunig, 19 june 2014

Poem: Christian Ideals

Absolutely essential, for saved people,
is the true concept of Christian ideals.
For they serve as inspirational guidelines,
in the development of holy, inner steel.

These ideals motivate Christians to action,
on behalf of the Christ, within His Will.
In addition, one strives to humbly live,
without the trappings of religious frills.

These principles affect one’s attitude,
in doing what aught to be done in service.
They provide vision with sacred direction,
whereby one is unashamed and not nervous.

Ultimately, when one is truly Spirit-led,
Christian ideals enables one to focus
on the important missions of the Kingdom,
thus achieving… success of divine purpose.

Author Notes:

Loosely based on:
1 King 8:18

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

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.

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Gert Strydom, 19 june 2014

To time (rubaiyat sonnet)

Without human control it moves on
and soon a day, a night, a week is gone
while no human science can make it pause;
or has capacity to turn time to stone.

By its own accord it ebbs and it flows,
if by divine providence it goes
through the ages of man into aeons
moving through times of happiness and woes.

Yet there may come a final end to it
when in the Master’s hand its passing fit,
when with Godly power He deems it to stop
and seconds going forward bit by bit

will in earthly dimension be no more,
when the planet turns to be like before.

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Gert Strydom, 19 june 2014

I hear the Sugar-bush-hillocks breathing

I hear the Sugar-bush-hillocks breathing,
a jackal howling in the night,
see a few bats turning in the moonlight
and hear turtledoves cooing in the dark
with the smell of flowering proteas in the air.

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Satish Verma, 19 june 2014

SHACKLWS

Spark of libido was doused
in golden dust.
Let the darkness decide
the ascension of ice.

The possession of naked rose,
him, the pure jewel
panicks in the manipulation of hands
crawling on the purple sea

of corals. A battle starts
for a mystic wheel, for opening
the door of heaven. A sooty
entrance in the hall of sins.

The gathering of queens, a flock
of serpents; the failing guts
of the hero, what if the city
that never wakes.

Satish Verma

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Latest items:

poetry

NAKEDNESS

BLACK MAGIC

The starry night

When that moment comes

When the new world is unknown

PRIDE OF VALLEY

Poem: Christian Ideals

To time (rubaiyat sonnet)

I hear the Sugar-bush-hillocks breathing

SHACKLWS

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