Gert Strydom, 19 september 2013
Sometimes your arrival is sparkling and catching,
sometimes the sparks of thunder smoulder in your eyes
and I want to run away like a rock-rabbit in the hills
but still I want to believe in the depth of our love
and when things between us are in disorder
then a struggle rages between you and me
and we say and do things that do hurt
and sometimes leave scars that stay
but even if there comes silences that are explosive
much more remains between us
and always we do find a much deeper meaning
when overwhelming wild our hearts do beat
when we become much more than only flesh
and our emotions, even our humanity are poured into each other.
Gert Strydom, 18 september 2013
When the time with you become holy
and moments crush into each other
and when at night you come to me
then I know that all love like this comes to fullness
and when moments disappear in silence
then I comprehend that pure bliss comes from pain,
when we find each other in our depths
and bind in a moment of the world’s darkness
and that we are both then much richer
in love’s silent deep mystery
and I come to know that love never flowers out
but at a time comes to its own fullness
when the lingering hunger in you and me
comes to satiation.
Gert Strydom, 18 september 2013
To me you are the most beautiful person,
the one on whom I did pray and wish,
the best that the years has brought me
and much more than any other thing,
you are the one that takes my hand,
you are my most honourable and precious treasure,
that live does grant me.
Gert Strydom, 17 september 2013
Beautiful, solitary in the field
I hear her song
where it forever will haunt my mind;
I pass along
the twisting long road, hearing it again;
it does belong
to a small green bird that is twittering
as continually lovely it does sing
Gert Strydom, 17 september 2013
This morning there are sparrows, a coucal and weavers
that gathers on the few maize cobs near to the fig trees
and a plover acts as if its wing is broken,
tries to attract the cat away from its nest
and the ginger Persian cat sneaks nearer,
treads carefully between each blade of grass and stick,
tries to catch the bird with the apparent broken wing
and I see that some of the grapes are already ripening.
Every year it’s like this when the summer comes
with fruit seamed onto the branches
and flower after flower which astounds me
with their beauty and colour
while the sun hangs high and white
in the cobalt-blue sky
and the days linger
as if they can last eternally.
Gert Strydom, 16 september 2013
I wanted to go back to my childhood days,
wanted to play with the delight of a child,
wanted to steal ripe peaches and hide them in my shirt
and I wanted to brake away from the here and now
but then I did meet you
with eyes reflecting the sun,
dancing like starry lights.
Gert Strydom, 16 september 2013
With the eyes of a poet I wanted to look at you
and out of everything that is beautiful
I wanted to bring you something as a tribute
and with knowledge I was looking for deeper meaning
but I could find no flowers
that truly does reveal your gaze
and gardenia and jasmine on the wings of the wind,
the night’s starry lights that I did experience
and not even the sun in its full glory
or spring in her abundance
does reflect your laughter and sadness
and the feelings that you bring to me
but now I am totally mute
as no words want to come to me.
Gert Strydom, 13 september 2013
There’s sudden strength flowing
through black men’s souls
and Africans want a new king
a new Dingaan, Shaka, Mzilikazi,
to drive the white man into the sea.
Like giants they want to rise
and take what they think belongs to them,
they dance around the tribal fires,
drink homebrewed beer,
pray to their gods
calling up the spirits
and in Zimbabwe they find a man
and wage a terrible war there.
He is chosen as prime minister
and rids his country of opposition
unleashing his fifth brigade
on the Ndbele tribe
to exterminate, torture and to rape
fellow black citizens.
Promises are made about agricultural fields
and white farmers are freed
of their ground and possessions by force
with the police backing up
the onslaught.
Food production dries up
and mass famine and poverty results,
the country is run into the ground
controlled by the power
of the security police and military
and the king is in the chair
still ruling with a iron hand,
gathering a fortune
in foreign banking accounts
and in his eyes,
he’s president for life.
Gert Strydom, 13 september 2013
Broken country, you know the sadness
of millions of people that are leaving you
and the silent fury and hatred
that is constantly present
and about pain and injustice you do bare knowledge,
about the silent yearning on each face
for something far better and on the street
you sometimes witness violence but also pity
do witness people that want a own life,
that want to have the right to a own work
and do want to reach out for a place in the sun
but you do know that many will never have it
and how deep the despair lies in their hearts
and that people want to live if they only could.
Gert Strydom, 12 september 2013
In the late afternoon your words did become silent
and your movements were curtailed
as if you did not want to get up from the chair,
as if you did not want to leave me later
and outside the August wind stopped blowing
while we did say no words to each other
and outside the sun did shine
in a moment of great joy and pain
while we were clinging to each other
and the afternoon sun’s radiance did weaken
when it felt as if time poured into that moment
while time did linger but it was much too short
when everything for both of us came to a standstill
and in ecstasy we looked at each other
but in me this fear does remain
that no moment will ever again be like this.
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