Gert Strydom, 13 august 2012
(after Philip Larkin)
There is a cheering crowd in the stands
with some people waving betting cards
while majestically they thunder past
in bright colours with jockeys
standing in the stirrups, bending low
running the distance at full speed.
Some people cheer with joy,
while cameras flash, video cameras record
others disappointed, sit down
waiting for the next race
while crowds of empty cars
wait outside and women parade
their dresses as if on show.
[Reference At Grass by Philip Larkin.]
Gert Strydom, 13 august 2012
When the waves get some height,
the foaming, breaking sea calls him,
to ride them,
to go into the washing water.
Even when a cyclone pushes out bigger waves,
he sees the beauty of tunnel and crest,
he becomes part of the ocean
and his robust tanned body swims
deeper into the sea,
while he searches for the place of birth,
the place where the waves begin
before he stretches himself out on the board like a god
are captured in the foaming tumbling beauty,
and cuts right though a pipe before it breaks with brutal force.
Gert Strydom, 8 august 2012
Like my father before me,
and in the way that my son,
my daughter will do
I have sprouted from this fertile land
have felt the rain falling in big drops
upon the red-brown hot sand,
have smelt new life springing forth
from the wetness of rain,
from the wetness of human seed
I have smelt the sulphur of blue-white thunder,
have experienced the wonder
of seeing new seedlings bursting
right through the ground
and this continent of Africa
where the sun hangs
in a cobalt blue sky,
will as long as I am living
be home to me.
Gert Strydom, 8 august 2012
What I know about my dad is only a few things,
eyes that radiates in seriousness,
he was sometimes strict but it was measured by love,
he was a god fearing man, but an Afrikaner
into the depths of his soul
and a teacher of history and Afrikaans
I remember his voice
reading the poems that he prepared
for post graduate studies in literature,
which made me get gooseflesh
from enjoyment
and so “early autumn,”
“the headless horseman”
“Maria” and “I will go to my father”
and many other poems
became to lie deep in my heart.
[References: “Vroegherfs” (Early autumn) by N.P. Van Wyk Louw, “Die ruiter van skimmelperdpan” (the horseman from skimmelperdpan) by A.G. Visser, “Maria” by Elisabeth Eybers and “Ek sal opstaan” (I will rise and go to my father) by W.E.G. Louw.]
Gert Strydom, 7 august 2012
Alone he watches the water ripple,
without movement
he waits with the line going in quite deep,
in a moment
the muddy water stirs in little circles,
tense enjoyment
goes through the boy as line sings, starts running,
he jerks the rod, the fish jumps, it’s stunning
with its golden silver scales glittering,
it dips under
and the fight is on as it twists and turns,
quick like thunder
again it jumps and twists back to escape,
without blunder
the boy reels in, still better hooking it,
over the river fighting bit by bit.
Gert Strydom, 7 august 2012
To sit next to the big river brings peace
throwing a rod over the tranquil way
in a kind of the heart’s sheer release
into the same pool up to close of day.
To live a life of utter joy we must,
when the river catches the rays of morn
to experience nature until dusk,
to be there when the bright new day is born;
it’s great to just catch time at dusk and dawn.
Gert Strydom, 7 august 2012
I know that the Apies River
have a high sewerage content
and there they were
sitting beneath a willow tree
fishing kurper and carp
and from the brown black water,
deep slime and mud,
where you couldn’t see anything
in the thick murk
they pulled out
big healthy fishes
that twisted, frisked
trying to get away.
Gert Strydom, 6 august 2012
At a time when all of my hope seemed gone
in darkness Your love brought me new light
when the weight of life was heavier than stone
You made every morning a time of hope and bright
and still You remain the only One
whose blessings and sacrifice shatters the night
Gert Strydom, 6 august 2012
In the distant veldt I saw Him
where He holds His hand over the wild flowers
and there was a colossal hillock
on a summer day with the sky another kind of blue
when I tried to find holy moments,
when I walked back in the footprints of a child
and free from the blackberry-bush
under the weather and wind
I devoured some of nature’s treasures
and I was blind for my Lord
while I only saw the works of His hands,
when I went back to some of my childhood places.
Gert Strydom, 6 august 2012
It feels as if I am waiting on God Himself
and like the park outside He stays invisible,
somewhere in the distance cars collide with a bang,
in the darkness some danger lurks
and then in the silent evening a star jumps in beauty,
it’s as if I am aware of His illustriousness.
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