Gert Strydom, 5 august 2014
The sky is dull blue when I do notice you,
while a butterfly suddenly flutters
and land on your arm
on this perfect day,
we embrace and you do smile
wiping a string of hair out of your face
and without saying anything
we look at each other for long moments.
Its as if the sun hangs radiating over your hair,
as if your fragrance suddenly rises like gardenia
and you fill my eye and heart with moments
of utter beauty and happiness.
Gert Strydom, 5 august 2014
(after Eugene Marais)
There are big game running
that suddenly gathers, snort and bark,
springbucks jumping, playing with their heads and walking nearer
and in the eyes of each one there is expectation and hope,
even the spitting cobra arches its back
when the guinea fowl down at the march call,
when thunder like drums rattle far away,
when even the small things under the earth crawl and whimper
and both animal and man wonder how to interpret the sudden shade
and the plain is wide and the clouds are blue-black
when everyone beholds the coming of the rain,
see how the rings around her feet shine in the distance
and hear the patter of her dance
and the nostrils of the game are open
to catch her smell if she wants to sneak past
and big joy is among all of the animals
as the rain has come with her rainbow cloak
and there are tranquillity and new life everywhere.
[Reference: “Die dans van die reën” (the dance of the rain) by Eugene Marais.]
Gert Strydom, 5 august 2014
Maybe I am now dreaming
but time and destiny
keep making plans and throwing their own dawdles
and who knows when events are to happen?
Satish Verma, 5 august 2014
When you were rolling in dust,
a puritan said, truth was me.
It was getting dark in Himalayas.
Black words, black themes.
You have started a journey in daylight
in a hot desert of fear.
Tormented, because of the heat
of arguments. Mimicry makes you sick.
Mocking birds fly straight for lofty peaks.
Self-denial was hurting sometimes
against copious rewards and generous handouts,
like pinned on a totem.
The happening must start
with hidden promises of price.
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 4 august 2014
When I did arrive
there were sparks in both of your golden-brown eyes
when I found you in your garden at the roses
and how eagerly I wanted to kiss you,
when I did chase up
a small weaver
while your body did gleam through your dress
and the spring was blossoming around us.
Gert Strydom, 4 august 2014
There are rays falling through the window
where as small girl plays with her doll
and she is caught in her own small universe,
are busy distributing empty cups full of tea.
Years later the sun again falls hot on the floor
and it’s a woman peeping through her long hair at me.
Satish Verma, 4 august 2014
I have peeled off my eyes.
Fear of unbeing creeps in,
genes were escaping.
The thin affair bends
under the burden of vague uncertainty.
A smoke rolls out from choking throat.
A word leaps high from wounded pride.
The author does not know the sting,
blames the ears.
Hails will strike when you open the door.
The past will question the future,
the anguish of infinity.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 3 august 2014
An oriole gives
an edgy call
in the blaze of morning.
I am not fully awake,
sky is melting on window.
Death has company.
Zen, it did not connect me
with your god.
I am tired of pretentions.
Small was the wasp
in a cobweb of pain.
It floated a sign of conflict.
My thorn did not prick your petals
in vain. Dead leaves
started bleeding.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 2 august 2014
Deep blue, almost black,
sadness.
Being,
my ache of existence.
Eyes, no body in focus.
A grey cloud
rowing the moon
amidst red stars.
Bronzed tongue
digs the spirit
out of flesh
behind the shadows.
Alone me
in unlived house of rags,
looking beyond the walls
other side of tomorrow.
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 1 august 2014
Almost timeless a wave breaks white
where we walk bare foot to the bay.
In the early evening the sky is star speckled
and out of one of the beach houses a joyful noise resounds.
From the distance the light of the lighthouse beacons
when small pebbles hurt our feet
and the city, the beach and sea is a beautiful vista
while a wave breaks washing over our feet
and you yell happily when we get wet from a bigger breaker
and to me you are far past pretty
as if your face does not change with time
and in the distance a car drives down the mountain pass
and I wonder if another night like this will come
and with happiness we are both astonished and surprised.
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