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Poetry

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

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Gert Strydom, 8 january 2013

Its as if my country is on a different planet

It’s as if my country
is now somewhere on a different planet
and early in the morning I see the poor black man
where he sits with hair like strings
covered in a blanket
against the wall of the ABSA bank
where people at eight o’clock
stand in a very long queue
while they wait upon the bank to open

and the friendly police captain
(who sometimes wear plain clothes)
and has a shining bald head
greets me and he wants to know
where my motorcycle is?

There are a group of jobless white people
twisting tobacco from cigarette buts
where they beg for leftover food
at DJ’s restaurant

and I wonder what is happening to this country
while a minibus taxi
stops in the middle of the road
and drops people in the traffic

and the traffic light is green
when I cross to the shopping centre
and the minibus taxi ignores the red light
and barely misses me.

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Gert Strydom, 8 january 2013

Maybe I come from a time

Maybe I come from a time
where things were better and different
than they are now
and still I keep believing and do trust
that every person deserves an own place in the sun.

Even when some of my wife’s family members
have been mowed down by criminals in a robbery
I still want to keep believing
in our country, in our time
some kind of change will come,

that people will grant each other a own free existence,
that the Lord God walks at the front of the road
to make it even
and that this is a year of prosperity and hope.

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Gert Strydom, 8 january 2013

New Year’s Eve

The year slowly comes with the ticking clock to an end,
while the new year is almost born
when the neighbours drown themselves in liquor,
and afraid of the festive sounds the cat sneaks in again.

Soberly we have our own festivities,
while outside thundering explosion on thundering explosion occurs
when the New Year is almost born
and afraid of the festive sounds the cat sneaks in again.

Later more meteorites explode
and they hang like stars to the heaven
while the neighbours gather around a barrel of wine,
and afraid of the festive sounds the cat sneaks in again.

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Gert Strydom, 7 january 2013

There are times

There are times when a new tomorrow is almost touchable,
when the sorrow, pain and heartache of yesterday disappears,
when people feel as if every new day holds something special,
when a person again wants to trust like a child
and does know that God holds everything in His hand
when there is something joyous in the sunshine
and nature in the garden rejoices with secret knowledge

and there are moments like now
where your presence brings joy,
where I know how absolutely precious
our love, your company and friendship
and every moment can be, where I want to save it,
want to nurture it as if I can save it up
when our hearts both sing of joy,
when the sun glitters outside on drops of dew

when days stretch out and I am aware of your beauty,
when times become as they are meant to be
and are without any fear
and nothing is more important than the being together,
when I read your own feelings in your eyes,
when nothing can curtail our feelings
when every moment is full of happiness and is true

and just like this I want the rest of the year to be,
as if it’s lying right against my fingertips like you.

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Gert Strydom, 24 december 2012

This is how Christmas is

With cupped hands I see him standing at a traffic light
and around him lines of cars drive past,
while people go on with their own lives
and some drive faster,
others cut in before others
and in silence he stands there without a single word.

At a shop window he sometimes stand with wide eyes,
where new clothes, very expense toys
are almost touchable near to him
and he does wish on this Christmas
to get something special

and his clothes are in tatters,
his black skin almost grey from hunger,
impatient cars continually blow on their horns
and he dreams about a large and pretty house
where the most delicious smells linger in the kitchen
and sometimes people look at him with pity,

while he longs for a very special kind of place
where a lost son is always welcome,
where God Himself stand welcoming with arms open wide,
where you can smell the fragrance of roasted lamb
and nobody does experience grief, are hunger or cold.

An old lady sincerely takes pity on him,
pushes a hot loaf of bread and a bottle of milk in his hands,
while others avoid him
and he does miss his father and mother who are both dead,
thinks this is how Christmas is
and suddenly his teeth glitter in a smile.

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Gert Strydom, 24 december 2012

Christmas Eve (cavatina)

With flaming torches the carollers came,
their songs of joy
of Jesus born in Bethlehem brought magic;
their small convoy
quickly drive away to their big houses
to there enjoy
their own Christmas Eve, to celebrate,
to together feel somewhat good and great.

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Gert Strydom, 24 december 2012

The Magi

In the dark night
we followed a shining light
that led us on a long journey
and at times it shone bright

and by the power of our knowledge of science
we were convinced that the Lord God had come
had acted by divine consequence
in a world that was gruesome

to show the depth of love,
to really come and effect a difference
had left his palace above
and as if struck, like being in a trance

we have travelled through dangerous lands
in our search for the divine king,
we have spoken to a wicked king full of iniquity
have held the reigns of camels in our hands
to find the Lord whose reign is everlasting,
in our search to see
the newborn child
we had brought offerings.

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Gert Strydom, 20 december 2012

I set my gaze (Persian quatrain)

I set my gaze
in the early morning haze
to where aloes bloom in dots of orange-red
and the hillock looks ablaze.

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Gert Strydom, 20 december 2012

There is loneliness in the autumn wind

There is loneliness in the autumn wind,
it whirls leaves and clouds of dust up
when by accident you walk into me
and we stumble and fall over each other
when our eyes meet
and suddenly you smile at me.

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Gert Strydom, 19 december 2012

With eyes sparkling green and gold

With eyes sparkling green and gold
you did look at me
and for moments we looked at each other.

Out of the branches of the old pepper tree
doves shyly peered at us
and the wind rustled through your hair.

I wanted to show you the flowering irises,
wanted you to smell the jasmine
but we were caught in each other.