Gert Strydom, 5 listopada 2013
Time came to a halt
and hanged like the watches of Salvidor Dali
while you were part of me,
when two people did become one,
were scouting each other’s bodies
and lips and fingers
did flutter and dance like butterflies.
Gert Strydom, 4 listopada 2013
I tried to perform magic with words
but I could not find the right ones
and somewhere along the way
I had almost lost my faith in our love
but still I remained true
while the thunders did roar about me
and I feel as if the darkness
was about to devour me
and still I did care,
kept faith in all of the tomorrows
that still has got to come
and maybe I took everything too seriously,
as if our love was a solution to everything
and now I do wonder
if you do still believe
that everything will come right
when with empty hands,
with only words and love
I stand before you?
Gert Strydom, 4 listopada 2013
There is something earthly about you
where you are planting a bush of yellow marigolds,
around you the wind blows,
in bright hot sun
and I smell the Moondrops perfume
coming from your neck, face and hair.
The grass and ground are like your eyes,
your blouse and skirt are moss-green
and between us there is a comfortable silence
where along the palisades
we are removing weeds and grass shoots.
In the distance I see the chimneys
of Impala Platinum
that shines like quicksilver
where as always
white smoke is going into the air
and as on every Friday
in the distance alarms are ringing
one after the other
but the silence between us
say more than words
and I press my nose into your hair,
embrace you for a moment,
see the four-by-four of the neighbour pulling in
while his dogs are barking excitedly
and I smell rain and sunflowers
and are tied to this country
and feel how vulnerable you are,
red and pink Iceberg-roses are flowering
brown, yellow, blue and white irises,
marigolds and geraniums of every colour
and the garden is a wonderland in the sun.
Gert Strydom, 1 listopada 2013
When the stormy wind jerked on the windows
while the rain fell as if endless,
you pulled me nearer in moment upon moment
and I was caught in the heat of your arms,
could feel your breath against my cheek
while in madness the storm whipped up gigantic waves
as if these cloudy days would last forever
but to me you were a source of light
and nothing could conquer our joy
even when at times
somewhat shy we did look blushing at each other
and eternally your smile will stay with me.
Gert Strydom, 1 listopada 2013
Today I want to pray
to love you much more,
that each new day
be much better than the one before
and are begging that God will be
constantly with you
that our love will last eternally
and that it always will be true
that I will love you as a man,
to the very best that I can
Gert Strydom, 31 października 2013
How many summers have already passed
I wonder while the winter wind cuts
with icy fingers through me
and still it’s as if my life
has difficulty to find direction
and now I am really longing for you
where you are waiting lovingly at home.
Gert Strydom, 31 października 2013
Sometimes I want to become a part of you
and pour my body, soul and spirit into you
and for more than a thousand times
let the blissful moments linger.
Gert Strydom, 30 października 2013
Late Friday afternoon
you will open the cupboard
take out flower,
mix your pancake mixture,
put two pans on the gas-stove
with a bit oil in each,
mix cinnamon and sugar
to sprinkle in a plate
and on the pancakes,
turn open two flames
and bake crépes and throw them over
until there is pile for me and Hannes
and the whole house smell of pancakes
and later after a prayer
we will sit at the table and feast on crépes
of which the sugar melts in.
Gert Strydom, 30 października 2013
At church square he stands just in front of the steps
and the statue of old uncle Paul
with a guitar in his hand
in a torn dirty jean
and the wind flutters the old washed-out shirt
of the curly head blonde singer
and he looks dumbfounded.
He notices people walking past
to offices, busses and cars
(and some of them are chatting)
and only a few does notice him,
leave silver
and even a bank note in his hat.
In his memories he goes back
to a time with food in the house
and his mother and father that did love each other,
to a time when life was still simple and free
and his eyes catch a bolt of lightning
that flashes blue-white in an open sky
and he wonders if it is later going to rain
while he plays and sings a sad song.
Gert Strydom, 29 października 2013
Where the heat in the grey karoo throws hazy waves
I had to stop at a time with a flat tyre
and in the karee-bushes I only noticed one sheep
while around me the ground was dusty red
but still this scene was beautiful
with a windmill turning screaming and knocking,
the other sheep drinking at a dam
and an old farm house did complete the picture.
In that desolate land I could hear the voice of God
where the scene stretched into the distance,
with only here and there a tree breaking the monotony
and there I did loose the conceit of my youth,
burned the scene into my mind before I had to leave
and felt the grass-seeds jutting into my socks.
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