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Poetry

	Gert Strydom
	PROFILE About me Friends (13) Poetry (1888) Prose (37) Photography (5)

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Gert Strydom, 1 february 2013

Woman with the cello (in answer to Johann Johl)

Next to an apple tree at a crossroad
a woman plays a song of love
which is swept away by the wind,
as she plays a cello at her thigh

the wind blows swishing past and she is alone
and wonders when spring will come
with the apple tree blooming again
and half-blinded she plays
with her heart that she pours into the song.

Three howling foxes are caught by the melody
and they linger as if they are hanging onto the tune
while she plays with deep a deep kind of longing.

[References: Painting: “Woman with the cello and foxes” by Andrzej Busza. Gedig: “Vrou met tjello en jakkalse” (Woman with the cello and foxes) by Johann Johl.]

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Gert Strydom, 1 february 2013

The widow Viljee as by Johann Johl (parody)

(after D.J. Opperman with apology to Johann Johl)

Next to the sea
where a bird in amok does scream
the widow Viljee strides on
and she is so lost without her man
with two Dalmatians following her close.

The poor woman, Viljee
and the dogs cannot understand
what the bird is screaming
while they walk on.

Oh woe, oh woe the widow Viljee
when the lot of them
detonate a landmine,
and pieces crackles-thunder clap
as if reaching for the sky
and later her basket of knotted birch-cane
are picked up by two people that are in love.

[References: “Met apologie” (With apology) by D.J. Opperman, Dubbelloop: ‘n pastiche (Double barrel a pastiche) by Johann Johl, “Bostelegraaf” (Bus htelegraph) by Johann Johl.]

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Gert Strydom, 31 january 2013

There are drops of rain

There are drops of rain
dropping and they are dancing,
on the outside of my windowpane
they are spluttering

falling, falling in a great shower
and outside everything is wet and gleaming
while lightning bashes down with great power
and everywhere there is water streaming

and here in the cosy comfort of the bed
away is the weariness of the week,
while you breath brushes against my cheek
your lips are slightly open and red

and I wonder if why other moments are not like this,
when everything is perfect in the way that it is.

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Gert Strydom, 31 january 2013

A clear sweet voice

When I first heard your voice,
in it there was something incredulous pure
a kind of serene beauty that one expects
at the heavenly court
and nowhere else to hear

as if the war had for a time stopped
between armies of angels
and legions of demons
while they all listened in awe
and even nature was stunned at the sound of it.

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Gert Strydom, 31 january 2013

Now that we are one

Now that in thoughts, spirit, heart
and soul we are one,
every thing that is insecure is gone
as if we will never again be apart

and if loving is a kind of art
that turns a heart from stone
then we will never again be alone
never will we from each other depart

and who could have expected it to be like this
as if everything has a kind of perfection to it
and you are my perfect girl with whom I want to pursue
everything that life can be with happiness in what it is
while daily we grow closer bit by tiny bit
and you are part of everything I am and do

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Gert Strydom, 30 january 2013

A modern bible story

While visiting Voortrekker road
to buy a brand new car
a man lying on the sidewalk catches my eye
and he is stripped naked.
I notice that he is from another race,
his glasses lie next to him, his possessions are missing
and he is barely conscious,
severely wounded, is almost knocked-out cold.
The white car shines where it’s waiting,
when the pastor drives past waving,
a elder slows down and accelerates
and there is an odd painful moan
that comes over the man’s broken lips
when I call for an ambulance and feel speechless.

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Gert Strydom, 30 january 2013

The prodigal son [2]

I

Hunger gnaws at my stomach
and a much deeper hunger of which the pain does not want to fade

when intensely the sun hangs day-long above me,
when I catch the smell of the farmer’s barbeque fire

and I have to cover my nakedness with rags
while I have got to graze on pods like a mere animal.

II

When the sun sets in the distance over the hillocks
in my hart there is a kind of uneasiness

and in the dark night when the stars are shining
it’s as if I can see my father beckoning in the distance

as if my days of rollicking and jolliness
has brought me to a time of deep regret

and I know that I have got to go back,
to be accountable to my father

and my heart feels heavy-laden while I walk the last bit of the way,
can hear blue thunder roaring in the distance

and in the rain my farther stands waiting
like only a farther can, for a child that comes out of the night.

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Gert Strydom, 29 january 2013

Daybreak [2]

At the end of night the morning star is still shining bright
and it’s as if the breeze sighs in the trees

while last bit of darkness cannot last,
is hanging over the earth like a shroud
and outside a animal sneaks past
while birds are twittering quiet loud.

With gleaming eyes it peeps through a window
and while I make some coffee it jumps in,
climbs on the sideboard, becomes part of a shadow
and lies stretched out when the day does begin.

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Gert Strydom, 29 january 2013

The warning

At a crossroad just beyond the tunnel
of the Hartebeespoort dam
on a starry night
I notice a young woman next to road

and she is lovely
wears a blue dress
and a white jacket
while she is hitchhiking

and in the roof light of the BMW
she looks somewhat pale, so as if
she does not come into the sun
and her black strings of hair

hangs in waves down her shoulders
and the fragrance of almond blossoms
fills the car as she gets in
and after travelling a small distance

she urgently asks me to pull off the road
and we both do wait
until a car without lights does pass at speed
on the wrong side of the road

and without greeting the girl does disappear,
fades into the naught
and on the seat next to me lays a branch
with some white almond flowers on it.

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Gert Strydom, 28 january 2013

On the veranda the evening did suddenly come

On the veranda the evening did suddenly come,
the twilight did turn to grey
before the stars broke out and filled the heaven
and slowly you fell asleep
while your eyes at times
like butterflies did flutter.

Your breath was hot against my cheek
while I carried you to the bedroom,
and just half-awake
in whispering words
you did further dream.