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Strange Kind Of Love

I once thought I had the love of God in my heart;
a feeling of oneness in which everyone is a part.
But as time went by and the days passed
that feeling of oneness did not really last.

I would search inside my heart to try and find
the love of God I thought had been left behind.
But as I looked eagerly there like a bloodhound
what I seemed to come across was less profound.

Then in the darkness of my mind I began to see a light;
It was coming and going, unsteady, to my inner sight.
The longer that I looked at it in wonder each day,
it seemed to speak to me without any words to say.

I would often marvel in awe how this could be
a spark of faith and hope from deep inside me.
So each day I would praise God in my heart with love
dedicating all action, words and thought to Him above.

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poem by George Krokos
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Waiting For You

Waiting For You
Written by: Wilfred Mellers, Friday, August 27,2010, @ 8: 50: 43 AM

In my days of solitude for melancholy interludes so rude
Imaginings once thought everlasting are now shades of grays for happier days
Thoughts once shared have now all disappeared
Hollowed now are memories from distant countries

Wavering in my mind of happier times so kind
Solis seeking words no longer speaking
These words in the vernacular once spectacular
Saying my goodbyes as my dreams dies

Joys once bountiful to love so beautiful
Filled with anger as days grow longer
My heart beats from stress while working with less
Yet still trying my best without rest

What more can I say to you for respect long overdue
My heart won’t divest beating loudly in my chest

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poem by Wilfred Mellers
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In Fear to Live Without An Approval Given

Comatosed,
And going through programmed motions.
A life grossed out,
With overdosed imposed notions.
And under hypnosis,
As neurotics sometimes appear.

Stuck!

In ruts.
And too addicted to give them up!
In fear to live without an approval given.

Lives becoming too corrupt!
For those who've been fed...
Their lives lived,
Are headed towards bad luck!

Stuck!

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Jesus In Cell

Last night Jesus entered my cell.
Oh, how sad was Christ, how tall!
The moon entered after him the cell,
and made Him taller and sadder, I recall.

His hands were like lilies on graves,
Eyes as deep as forests' lands,
The moon threw silver on his garments in waves,
silvering His big, pierced hands.

I got up from under the old, gray blanket of mine:
- God, where do you come from? From what age, tell me, please?
Jesus gently put a finger to His mouth as a sign,
motioned for me to be quiet and at ease...

He sat next to me on the mat full of dust...
- Put your hand on my wounds, on my veins,
On his ankles were shadows of wounds and rust,
It was as if he had once worn chains...

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poem by Radu Gyr, translated by Marius Alexandru
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Sun Eclipse

Moon exclaimed! “My revenge is over”
All these years Sun made blanket cover,
All black spots patches on my body,
Narrating as if cruelty on me from somebody,

I am making him to pay dearly,
Twenty five years waited nearly,
Now times approaching few hours barely,
May be appearance never seen or rarely,

I was simply his shadow or satellite,
Never joyed of my own and delight,
Always cool without own light,
Weakest object without might,

I may have been symbol of love,
Never steered a course or drove,
Looked always down and not above,
Stars twinkled as if nothing to prove,

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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Creation Of Woman

Long ago, Very Long ago, God was caught in a pensive mood
After sending down Giant sized Creatures with violent Nature
Floods and Fires with hellish Fury, Man was sent to live on earth
Man was single no one to mingle, wandered jungles with no one to tingle
God looked down noticed the Gloom, Dull and Dumb was the life on Earth

God sat straight, fastened his belt, decided at once to add some spice
Finding an answer God shined bright patted him self for striking it right

Spring was the season when he sprang the surprise
Pleasure peaked every where on finding this treasure
Gifting Man with compassion God sent down this sensation
Woman was his creation whipping out a temptation

Man jumped with joy thinking her a toy
knowing very little he is for a ride
the lust for sex and the need for a breed
drove the Man into the grip of greed

vulnerable was the woman in the beginning days

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poem by Somanathan Iyer
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Auntie Emmaline for Friend Leslie

Auntie Emmaline.

My cousin Peter was a prig.
A precious little Mamas boy.
Who thought it rather infra dig
a little mischief to enjoy.

He combed his hair and shined his shoes
and was polite to every one
I was quite pleased to hear the news
that he had just up and gone.

To live with a girl, Elsie Ma.
Who was no better than a whore.
It made me glad I have to say.
He’s not my rival anymore.

Nobody says that should I should be
just like Peter. Dear me no.
The rotten apple on the tree.

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Preparatory Meditations - Second Series: 12

(Ezekiel 37:24. David my Servant shall be their King)

Dull, dull indeed! What, shall it e'er be thus?
And why? Are not Thy promises, my Lord,
Rich, quick'ning things? How should my full cheeks blush
To find me thus? And those a lifeless word?
My heart is heedless: unconcerned hereat:
I find my spirits spiritless and flat.

Thou court'st mine eyes in sparkling colors bright,
Most bright indeed, and soul-enamouring,
With the most shining sun, whose beams did smite
Me with delightful smiles to make me spring.
Embellished knots of love assault my mind,
Which still is dull, as if this sun n'er shined.

David in all his gallantry now comes,
Bringing, to tend Thy shrine, his royal glory,
Rich prowess, prudence, victories, sweet songs,
And piety to pencil out Thy story;

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poem by Edward Taylor
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And So...That's The Way It Is

Hi.
I haven't see you around these parts,
In quite a few years.
I was told you had been ostracized,
Because of comments you made...
Many back in those days found quite offensive.

'I was!
But...
Every now and then,
I would come back heavily disguised.
I wanted to keep myself abreast of the fresh gossip.
And who were those deceiving in discreet,
With their lies.'

I am surprised not to see you in masquerade.
Aren't you a little bit concerned, apprehensive and afraid?

'I must admit,
I began my charade dressed in a politian's outfit.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Happy And Sad Journey Of The River

calm was the river,
meandering with serenity,
adorned with grace of lapping
on its own inbankment.
crossing, rocky catchments,
and elsewhere a sand bed
rising, and falling, in rhythmic
tune, barely audible,
yet to the boatman, with oars,
a feeling of harmony and joy.
singing to the tune of
flowing water, the lost tune
of yesterday!

also the creatures of water,
had seen endless joy filled days,
when the sun shined on water,
and they frolicked in glee,
the shining bodies of fish,
catching the sun,

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poem by Ritty Patnaik
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