Little words fall from my lips – words
Like love, hope and faith
Words that remember to always believe
Words that erase all the doubt and fear
Words that see through the darkest dread
Into the promise of a love that is ahead…
A part of my spirit, a part of my heart
A part of this woman – whose love is alive,
It feels like a kiss that was left on a thought,
A kiss filled with kindness, joy and light
A kiss from a love who is more than a thought –
This kiss is beautiful to a fault…
Rise from your heartbreak, arise from your pain,
Remember the joy – before all the rain,
Silence that fear and wipe away all the tears,
Whisper to the silence in a voice to explain –
With little words of kindness, little words of grace,
Inspire one another – believe because that’s faith.
Believe in the wisdom that tells you love is true
When Jesus’ signs a heart, He signs it with His light –
And when He leaves His pen there, it’s meant for you
To sign away, throughout this life – all your whole life thru…
Sign with this light that Jesus gave to you!
Corrosion of our country‘s values piques
our interest; cuddled minds with cudgels speak
and bark, confused by all but tribal laws,
subconscious minds coddled with pride. The fall
is sure to come, and the Great Seal — break.
Democracy at stake, and still none wake,
as all our rights contort. Through fear or spite
competing visions won’t align; what’s right?
And who decides? It’s no surprise that each,
effulgent with conceit, decides to teach
his point of view is true. And, who will die?
The thousands yet to scream, as both still try
to conquer what was one, but now divides.
Attach your signature. Right here. Beside.
Thursday, September 5, 2019
10 Words contest; sponsor Kai Michael Neumann
and so it goes, the more you try
the more it blows, the lightening strikes,
the weight is towed, the rain it falls,
the yarn is sewn, the rhythm ranks high,
the face lies, the smiles come when faith finally dies,
and all in all the time ruptures to the tinklings of an instrument
one never learned how to play &
raincoats are worn on the sunniest days &
boring is the only game that’s played &
smog replaces the beauty traced like
scars that come when babies make their way into this
place, aren’t ya glad you were part of the whole
charade? aren’t ya glad it all ceased to make
sense, when the landlord came to take your rent &
ya looked him straight in the eyes &
laughed, for it all comes quick when you want it to
last, it all slows down when you need it to
pass, humming the notes you’re sure you know,
forgetting the words that don’t quite flow,
lucky to wade in the shallow water,
luckier to pretend that there is no other,
watching you & watching me, we’ve known it all our
history, the one that meows out loud a whine is the last to get
the sip of milk before it turns---
and we both know it doesn’t turn like the finest of
wines.
day dreaming
beneath your ceiling
under your cracks of blue
on a cloudy Sunday
I was something
soothing you
Lying in the crescents
of a mystery
Am I spending
too much time with you
and we were a shoulder
alive and highly
candling the thoughts of two
oh, they say i was
spending too much
time with you
beneath your cracks of blue
day dreaming
in the streets of night
lights and colors
a shimmering absence
vacant promises
in these all night dreams
when day light seemed
to wonder and deem
until
the morning screamed
and i was crazy
how you crazed me
the jewels you gave me
drove me daisies
into hours hazel
crowded and hazy
and we were children
beyond a rhythm
waltzing in a melody
alive and highly
beneath the splinters
flowers rekindled
but they say i was
spending too much
time with you
day dreaming
in her cracks of blue
oh she loved you
she seldom left you
in the cracks of blue
across the avenue
it was nothing new
just day dreaming
souls were clinging
songs of signature
Planet earth,
they have stopped moving with me like clouds,
like trees.
Sap frozen, inertia overtaking
tongues clipped
mouth after mouth black shut.
Toads are croaking.
Incence of hate wafting
from scrolling suicides.
The terrorist is on move
from valley to valley
shrine to shrine
river to river.
Bulls in veils bellowing in dark.
Self-seeking or sensing the history ?
Intentness of kill or empathy of pain ?
Who were the masters hiding behind hills ?
Let me choose my scratchings from unknown pen.
My paper should remain unwritten,
nobody will draw the line
nobody will put the signatures.
SATISH VERMA