Gert Strydom, 6 lipca 2012
Continually its progressions and rows,
the teacher is on patrol,
his cane sometimes swishes painfully,
there are theorems and more theorems
which are driving us nuts
with differentiation and other calculations,
and we are taught about Ballot and Christaller
and models are all around me,
one after the other they do pass
while there’s no end to examination papers
and the girls are lovely
but continually I am caned
and this is why I find high school
somewhat bewitching.
Gert Strydom, 5 lipca 2012
Two people dressed in white
take steps around each other,
and around their middles
black bands are tied.
Like lightning bolts feet shoot out
are averted fast as thunder,
a fist is folded deadly
and held in a striking blow.
Shapes move like spectres in a dangerous dance,
eagles get wings with speed and course
and four eyes measures courage, measures speed,
measures soul, body and craft.
Gert Strydom, 5 lipca 2012
His attitude is set to high precision
where he swings
making the correct grasps lightning quick,
and sometimes just for moments touches the rings,
hurling through the air he turns
in movements that really does count.
He tumbles quickly from the balancing beam,
he is supremely accurate on the pommel horse
where he retains absolute balance
and moves perfectly
from place to place,
later he returns to parallel bars
before landing without movement on the floor.
Gert Strydom, 5 lipca 2012
They are one with the music,
the muscled man and slim woman
and every movement is smooth
in a combination of grace and power
as if they are doing a ballet piece on ice,
they move rhythmical as masters of balance,
become part of the story that they portray
and when they come to a halt
the crowd come to their feet to applaud.
Gert Strydom, 4 lipca 2012
An ibis screeched outside
in the garden
suddenly slapped its big bronze-brown wings
and touched
by the frenzy you turned around,
without a word
pulled me deep into your arms,
suddenly you covered my face with kisses.
Gert Strydom, 4 lipca 2012
Gently the sun oozes through the big old tree
where we both linger for moments in the shade,
around us the garden is bright like a painting,
blades of grass are knee high in the veldt
across the road where plovers are calling each other
and glowing white the moon hangs in the blue sky;
it’s as if I am dreaming as you do really love me
and unexpectedly you squeeze my hand and I get a kiss.
Gert Strydom, 4 lipca 2012
The thrush sings its twittering song, picks up worms,
the Jack Russell snatches wild at the bees,
startled they try to escape,
the sunbird gambols from flower to flower
while we are at the washing line
where I catch you in my arms,
as the sun laughs white hot at us
from the blue sky
on this glorious day
and I wonder if another like this will come.
Gert Strydom, 3 lipca 2012
Sometimes I wonder why
I constantly feel in disorder
in Your presence
as if I am still becoming
and maybe it’s because You are totally perfect,
that love that is so self sacrificing
is almost not understandable.
Gert Strydom, 3 lipca 2012
When life takes me
over ghastly paths with a precipice
I want to stray into the darkness
but still your heaven is stretched out blue over me,
with the sun burning intense warm white
and I look at the moon where it’s high,
or low in a variety of
yellow, white and even silver colours
and when the wind rises cruelly to devour me
You are always there with arms wide open,
like a father coming to the rescue,
who is already running
while I am still far over the hill.
Gert Strydom, 2 lipca 2012
An artist paints a bushy landscape,
paints colours of a setting sun
with fleecy clouds hanging in the blue sky
while Johnny and his section is on patrol.
The canvass has a river where shots rang out,
an angry crocodile that tries to catch him,
black coots fly up and Johnny feels afraid,
when a trooper detonates a landmine,
three riflemen cover his position,
the enemy shoot with tracer bullets that draw lines,
they are caught unexpectedly by Johnny’s return fire,
and flee from the very start of the fire-fight
with a wounded comrade that longs for God,
Johnny’s men are brave and capable,
a soldier is shot to smithereens, lies droopy like a doll,
some distance away a hissing snake slithers,
to vomit is an unstoppable urge;
down at the marsh a long-tailed widow-bird flies.
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