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poetry
Gert Strydom, 18 june 2014
Man has become estranged
While technology makes life
more comfortable
man has become estranged
from the purpose of his existence
and slowly life starts
to only turn around the self
and people wonder
if a God does really exist
so as if with time
they are becoming gods themselves.
Gert Strydom, 18 june 2014
We wait upon a new tomorrow
We wait upon a new tomorrow
where life is different
and are astounded with each new morning
that the experience of the day
just stays the same
and sometimes I wonder how the days would be
without hope, promises and wishes
and we are bound to the whirlpool of destiny
and of time
as only humans
and in today all of the things do lie
that makes every new tomorrow a reality.
Gert Strydom, 18 june 2014
From my first glance of you (cavatina)
From my first glance of you, when we did meet,
love did begin
and now its presence is so very great
it feels as sin
when you draw near to me, it’s clear to me
that I can win
nothing more and it’s like no other thing
when love grows selfless without questioning.
Satish Verma, 18 june 2014
STARDUST
Out of the cleft lip comes
a muffled voice
on the turn of events,
to interrupt a call.
Then the panic rises,
the blood was oozing from the larynx.
The winding mountain path goes to the end
of blessing where the prayer drowns.
What was happening to the golden land?
Did the green worry about the iced peaks,
from where the glaciers take a bend
to enter the valley?
Who was negotiating the winds?
The logic between the stars and moon?
Huge gods were speaking to the men
in black, wearing eye masks on the highest terrains,
not heading my grief.
The dust was crying.
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 17 june 2014
Crow
Early the morning dew shimmers
over the grass where over his eyes goes
where he is clinging to a branch
and his glance travels on and on
as if the entire world is his
and everything that can be prey on is spied upon
from where the sun is only colouring the horizon
and even a dot carries meaning.
When Cain killed Abel he was a witness
and came to his own element
while Abel’s life did grow faint after a deadly blow
and over the animals fleeing in fear he was astounded
but was hungry with the first smell of blood
while the whole world around him did shudder
and his screeching call did quiver
while he wanted to tear and devour
when he did find a new source of food
and from that time he was a dark child
that wanders continually ready
on the wings of the wind.
© Gert Strydom
Gert Strydom, 17 june 2014
If you want to place your darling wife in words
If you want to place your darling wife in words
it’s not with a sober eye that you look at her
and when you want to remember her face and even her eyes
you are time and again astonished by her character
and every word stays in the fog of the mind
when you wonder if her eyes are blue, green or grey
while you do realize that what you write is untrue to her
as part of a greater whole that you want to replace
and when you only look too near at small things
a hand is only a hand and an eye an eye
wherein character and intellect burn behind the viewers
which looks completely different in the whole picture
where character can raise a person to an angel
or from a still greater scope to only a speck in the sand.
Gert Strydom, 17 june 2014
My God is not just an icon
My God is not just an icon
that still hangs on a cross
and where I go He walks along
and He is present
in every moment.
He knows every human being intimately
sees every tear,
hears every prayer
and when darkness folds its arms around me
I am still in His company.
Let others believe what the want
His love urges me
to believe in Him.
Gert Strydom, 17 june 2014
The seagull
I see a gull with wings swept back
fall into the deeper blue
and with power ascend from the ocean
with a codfish of which the tail hits to both sides
and its shade glides over the mirror smooth surface with a fish
when that bird is just for another moment there.
Satish Verma, 17 june 2014
KILLING ZONE
If you walk straight under the
shadow of moon, to the salt lake
death will blow a long whistle.
Everything was ruined in war of words.
There was no peace in the heart,
even after meditation, the mind
drove for the flesh, caressing neither
blameless womb nor Oedipus.
The dead forefathers goad the hypocrisy
till the blood spurts out from
the black navel of centuries
and the forgiveness stands naked.
Satish Verma
Milena Sušnik Falle, 16 june 2014
MILOSTNO JUTRO
Vonj jutra
kraljevo
zavaja dan
v odpuščeno –
da ne bi bolelo,
jokalo –
zvonilo tam,
kjer ni zvonov.
Blazine trave z dražem jutra
blestijo v soncu -
zadišijo:
majhna sebi,
čutno polzim vase,
da se kdo ve kje,
približam udarcu dneva -
bo milosten ali surov.
Polja tiho
na soncu ležijo –
občutek svetosti,
kot prvo obhajilo;
razodeto zunaj mene –
komaj verjetno –
zlepljeno z odtisi milosti jutra,
za neizogiben čas trnjevo negotov.
Milena Sušnik Falle - Slovenija
pesniška zbirka Tempus fugit - Čas beži
Latest comments:
12 april 2026
Jaga
" By mi zabełtać błękit w głowie"
12 april 2026
Do usług :))
12 april 2026
To prawda :) Smutne jest to, że z mojego otoczenia
12 april 2026
ais
Wiosną dochodzi do zbliżenia...
12 april 2026
Ach, te słodkie mazurki :))
12 april 2026
Dziękuję Jaga :))
12 april 2026
Wirujący sex. Tyle, że seks dla każdego coś
12 april 2026
Sorrowhead (ex Cheval)
A Hamlet, banał do kwadratu - umysłowość
12 april 2026
Ale dzięki za cynk, podoba mi się ta poezja.
12 april 2026
I oczywiście syzyfostwo ; ).
12 april 2026
"Tak źle... nie, nie źle - powietrznie!"
12 april 2026
Nie da się wszystkiego i wszystkich poznać,
12 april 2026
Sorrowhead (ex Cheval)
12 april 2026
wiesiek
12 april 2026
Jaga
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Sorrowhead (ex Cheval)
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wiesiek
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Sorrowhead (ex Cheval)
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Anthony DiMichele
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Anthony DiMichele
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Anthony DiMichele
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Anthony DiMichele