Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 23 october 2013

It’s not the fault of summer

(“Though lovers be lost love shall not.”
Dylan Thomas)
 
It’s not the fault of summer
that the heat at a time does depart
and that it’s only limited to a season
but love that does continually burn high
like the summer sun
does endure against the timid mouldiness
of each season
 
and when the days of autumns comes,
when the coldness of winter slowly sneaks nearer
then the days turn around again
and in the years of old age
love still is strong
 
and when you and I are lost to each other
then there is a time and place
where our love finds us again
and brings us back to each other
as if our love has got an endless summer.


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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 23 october 2013

When words pull meaning to pieces

When words pull meaning to pieces
then I want to embrace you
and hold you gently against me
and by actions begin to say things to you,
pick a bunch of red roses from the garden
as a token of my love,
 
put more time into our being together
and bring colour to the continuous white of life,
try to bring healing to the scars of your youth
and cover everything that does bother
in a big hole in the ground.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 23 october 2013

* VELVETY RETURN

Like a dung beetle you were guarding
the tunnel, I will not let the ball roll away,

a grain of ache in my tooth.Why you had
to go, on cathartic release of mutual trust?

A stone in the heart, ice on the wings,
there will be a terrible crash today.

He died by his own hands, failing to reach
the ceiling of solid pain, trekking across

the memories in deep waters. The born depression
had the bride of moon without flesh, beyond the gaze.

A hand holds the sunlight reaching your eyes.
You may swim with fish in mid stream of death.


* On the death of Nicholas Hughes, son of Sylvia Plath in Alaska on 16th March 09.


Satish Verma


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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 22 october 2013

Bird of the night

The blackbird of the night
covers the sky
and it’s rather dark
as if the stars are dim
and on this night some are gone
and there’s something electric blue
in its colouring.
 
Maybe the feathers
of a white breasted crow
with some clouds here and there,
some would say
 
or something more menacing
than a type of raven
is tonight in the air,
like a vulture
or some kind of giant eagle
with huge ripping claws,
 
but to me there’s lightning
that I see reflected in its coat
with blue-white bolts
flashing down suddenly
 
and later when the rain is gone
the sweet notes of a songbird
is in the air
and maybe the bird
in the sky tonight
is a very special one
that only exists in my mind.


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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 22 october 2013

The tikoloshe [3]

Outside something sneaks around during the dark moon
and it comes nearer and nearer and stands still
when the voice of a child calls in the distance
and I imagine it’s already on the porch.
At the window I see red eyes gleaming,
it looks as if something from hell wants to climb in,
I hear it walk around the house
and it pushes and bumps against the kitchen door.
The yard is full of fear and him
when in terror every child wants to run away
but evil comes nearer and still nearer
and a kind of alarm comes with him.
Outside there is the smell of sulphur and fire,
in the distance a bell counts off midnight,
somewhere a woman yells from pain and fear
and suddenly everything is silent and it is pitch dark
when only a shadow moves past
and disappear into the depths of the narrow alley way.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 22 october 2013

SINGLE DESIGN

Bearded face still looks from
the severed head, in timeless gaze
after the spitting blast. A nimbus cloud
is lobbed on the tormentor to stop burning;

the silver urn contains the daisy sick
to wean away the enemy of tender shoots
of tall trees. Blue mercury is wildly oscillating
like boneless mast of sunken ship.

The avenger of younger cyclones, we lost
our grains in high noon on towring houses;
the rivers changing the course to submerge
the golden bells of masses and white flags

a new born is not lifted from the dust, a time
tries to become bodiless in a glassed dome
touchless, smell less, only skulled myself
in mutilating mud of black tapestry.


Satish Verma 


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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 21 october 2013

With you I want to make eye contact

With you I want to make eye contact
and then I want to love you,
want to massage your back and feet
until al of the love cards
in Cardies makes sense,
and every love song
has a secret meaning for us.


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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 21 october 2013

How difficult it’s sometimes

How difficult it’s sometimes
to decipher the codex of your heart
and at times when your eyes catch mine
its if sunshine and deep truths
hang in their depths
but sometimes I see something else
which I have difficulty to fathom
when your eyes keep longing.
 
Sometimes it’s as if our love
and I am precious to you,
as if nothing can disfigure our love,
as if you look at me with a comprehension
that already comes for ages
 
but at other times
the deeper meaning of our love is disguised
and then I wonder
about what I am seeing in your eyes,
about that which bounces in the bell of your heart
 
but in the language of love
I will try and talk to you
and look at you and catch your eye
until all of our dreams are similar
when I find comprehension
for the wonderful things that remain unsaid.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 21 october 2013

JUST CRIED

Do not want to foresee;
the unknown me. On the tip
of tongue a stunted silence with singularity

sits. Me and my lantern burn
in dark. Thumbs down: the compact
seeking in failed state alters the future generation.

A reverse pain flows out of sunken
eyes. The perpetrator of bloodbath
wants forgiveness from the toddlers.

This side of a shadow, on the other bank,
a rustic river throws up a stabbed body
of a sailor. Another prologue for the sinking ship.

The rats grumble, bite the dead child of
sunlight. The sky bares the candid toys
of velvety jinx, the robots taking over the throne.


Satish Verma


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Bob Gotti

Bob Gotti, 19 october 2013

Their Darker Agenda


It is not getting any better, my friend, as we could soon see the end,
The end of God’s protective grace, with the despotic leader in place,
For leaders now abandon God, deceiving many with a deceitful nod,
Saying that what’s wrong is right, turning to darkness instead of light.
 
Against Truth, they continue to rail, as dark ways they want to prevail,
To propagate their darker attitudes, amongst the deceived multitudes,
As a darker agenda leaders peruse, using their rhetoric that’s not true,
Falling in line with that big lie, to oppose The God who reigns on high.
 
By leaders a darker agenda is perused, while the liberal media is used,
To cover up darker deceptive ways, as the leader receives their praise,
Keeping the multitudes in the dark, regarding their future which is stark,
With no protection for them ahead, leading into a darker future instead.
 
Politics and media walk hand and hand, as the Leader takes his stand,
To bring darkness into the nation, while destroying its very foundation,
Holding back on the truth to be told, as this leader the masses behold,
Thinking he conveys political truth, while only leading to God’s reproof.
 
Straying from the Lord for so long, the delusion in this nation is strong,
Deluding leaders to wickedly rule, as they lead like that proverbial fool,
Governing as if there is no God, but, they’ll definitely see His Iron Rod,
As He judges all the moral corruption, as we reach our final destruction.
 
(Copyright ©10/2013 Bob Gotti)


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