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Gert Strydom, 12 march 2012
How will I daily look upon God’s face? (cavatina)
How will I daily look upon God’s face,
while I do sin
and still daily continually do fall?
When I begin
each day with a prayer, inside my heart
His love is in,
while He daily makes my life again new,
much more pure than all of the morning dew
Gert Strydom, 8 march 2012
On science (cavatina sequence)
(after Archibald MacLeish)
She does not worry about why things are;
that they exist
to be contemplated or observed,
how they persist,
is far enough for her own simple reasoning,
she does resist
their reason, in rote produces answers,
perfect to devotions of her followers.
She thinks she knows where all things do come from,
far beyond her
kind of scope is metaphysics, physical
she does gather,
she is protected in her own dungeon,
nothing further
she knows about love, joy, fear and sorrow,
as she proclaims things for each tomorrow.
Beyond the stars, the sheer utter darkness,
shines a true light,
beyond the unknown, beyond a ocean,
out of her sight
are things like life to which He answers know,
to her its night
to comprehend the very soul of man,
as mechanical she does what she can.
[Reference: “Dr. Sigmund Freud Discovers the Sea Shell” by Archibald MacLeish.]
Gert Strydom, 8 march 2012
Graduate (cavatina sequence) (in answer to Archibald Macleish)
In three years or four, holy beliefs are slain,
He did not make
either man or the earth, Charles Darwin’s
theory does take
centre stage at great universities,
nonsense do rake
as mere myth the Bible into the ground,
learned men sound to themselves profound;
like gods they toss and play with all their students,
as memories
of God and His great things they cause to dwindle;
flowers and bees
as lust become simple chemical yearning,
they teach duties,
to be like gods in self actualization;
they destroy God and his creation
while magic things like the force of life
stays beyond science,
while man is bound to facts and to his own
experience,
cannot measure to an almighty being;
with patience
God and His character of love remains,
mere man struggle on in his life of pains
while still is lingering the truths of youth,
love is beyond
the bounds of man’s mere own observations,
the simple bond
to survive on earth, bound by time and space,
does correspond
with a higher intelligent being
whose selfless power sustains everything.
[Reference: “Baccalaureate” by Archibald Macleish.]
Gert Strydom, 8 march 2012
The art of poetry (cavatina sequence) (in answer to Archibald Macleish)
A poem should touch, should palpable belong,
it should reach out,
with a kind of eternal caring truth;
it should scream, shout
of each injustice and pain that do remain
and be about
almost anything or each happening,
as something that is truly worth saying.
Not silent or dumb it falls on the ear,
as it’s profound,
in a great symphony of the purest
kind of clear sound,
its rhythms do ring with every line
it is not bound
by politics, machinations of men
and can be a blessing or an omen.
[Reference: “Ars poetica” by Archibald Macleish.]
Gert Strydom, 7 march 2012
At seven (cavatina sequence) (in answer to Archibald MacLeish)
Right through that summer the boy would wander
through the hillocks,
finding wild flowers, wild fruits and then left
burning hot rocks
and then returned to the large farmyard,
heard crowing cocks,
sneaked to the large shed on the heat of day,
while on business the farmer was away.
He would smell some diesoline coming from
the tank outside,
the oil and grease of the three big tractors
while he would hide;
ploughshares, the harrow, spades and picks
would be each side;
in his mind the farmer’s harsh words had been:
“boys have to outside play, are not to be seen.”
[Reference: “Eleven” by Archibald MacLeish.]
Gert Strydom, 7 march 2012
Darkness rush on (cavatina)
With the last fading of manmade light
darkness rush on,
with the silver-grey twilight sneaking in,
the sun is gone
and blue-white the evening star does shine,
while solid like stone
the shadows falls, everything turns to black,
as if the sun will never again be back.
Gert Strydom, 7 march 2012
On the end of the world (cavatina sequence)
(after Archibald MacLeish)
Behind the scenes they act, while on the stage
life is a dance
and we fall for the show and laugh and play
in romance,
as in quick-time we are very smitten,
are in a trance
as some Bee-bee Bob the clown laughs and cries;
men go off to war to kill and some dies
and then still lurking are unseen beings,
in sheer darkness;
they poise, do mislead and cover their tracks,
with great aloofness
they turn all beliefs in nothing at all,
bring lawlessness,
try to drag most of humanity down
to wait on great disaster as their own.
[Reference: “The End of the World” by Archibald MacLeish.]
Gert Strydom, 6 march 2012
Enigmatic people (cavatina sequence) (in answer to Archibald MacLeish)
Reflected in glass with golden bubbles
distorted faces
stare at him, some looking quite grim and some old;
different places
they call home while to this place they do come,
girls with their graces
that are totally gone, smile, look, at him
before they do triple on, while his eyes swim.
He sits in a bar in Fourth Avenue
while twilight falls,
a soft hot hand covers his for a moment,
his thoughts do stall;
she is very beautiful, her eyes gleam,
and he feels tall
when they leave chatting and are full of lust
and they do know together sleep they must.
Taxis with sharp headlights pass them roaring
as they walk on,
they are comfortable with each other,
but love is gone
from both their lives and the intimate touch
just like set stone
helps them to fit in the puzzle of life
as they with other people leave and arrive.
In the morning their names are unknown, it’s strange,
the air is stale
with the smell of cigarette buts, sex and wine
and totally male
he smiles at her as they make love again;
the taste of ale
is bitter in his mouth, her kisses sweet;
but they might never again like this meet.
No words hurt as they go their different ways,
past the white beach
he walks where the wind roars, gulls screech, flutter;
now out of reach
like a sweet kind of dream she is now gone
and each to each
they go to home, to work and they do play;
in their lives it’s just another new day.
[Reference: “inema of a Man” by Archibald MacLeish.]
Gert Strydom, 6 march 2012
The night dream (cavatina sequence)
(after Archibald MacLeish)
It had been a dream but seemed much too real;
her eyes, her voice,
had a quiet kind of lovely quality,
even her poise
had maturity, some kind of gentleness,
with no noise
but the buzzing of bees at a flower
while we lay down in fields of white clover.
The sun fell hot on our skins, her smile was
very dazzling,
while her soft hand gently touched my face,
there was something
known in the way that she did speak with me,
how she did fling
her hair back, while my head did gently rest,
on her soft heaving perfect naked breast.
Love I do not know she said and smiled,
but she was mine,
while we kissed in moments of pure bliss,
drank some white wine,
talked about some things close to the heart,
the curving line
I traced of her bended lovely back
while the greatest pure joy we did not lack.
It had only been a rapturous dream,
that was fading
but her skin, her smile was kind of special;
away wading
into the vast ocean of memory
until reading
from the magazine you looked up at me,
I could not pass when your face I did see.
[Reference: “The Night Dream” by Archibald MacLeish.]
Gert Strydom, 6 march 2012
On a wedding day (cavatina sequence) (in answer to Jean Valentine)
I. After awakening
Today I try to see your lovely face
in the mind’s eye,
nothing comes to mind; you are beautiful,
but my thoughts fly
to the time that I was but a mere child;
in the blue sky
the sun is bright, my innocence is gone,
this day is huge; you are the only one.
II. Early morning
Early I am dressed; my friends gather,
scared to loose
the friendship that had come with years,
like a huge noose
marriage is to some, but they are happy,
wishes they choose,
are the most compelling words for my sake,
promises of lasting friendship we make.
III. Arriving at church
My best man is more nervous than I am,
when we arrive
at the full church, see an ocean of faces,
I feel alive,
do wait to see you enter in glory;
far too active
beyond the edge my nerves are driven,
before our true loving oaths are given.
IV. At the airport
From the reception we do slip away
and hand in hand
our life together begins, as at the airport
we alone stand,
dressed in other clothes; our happiness
people understand,
as you in lovely enchantment do glow
of our new marriage they just do know.
V. Intimacy
As we land big palm trees wave us welcome,
we do caress
in the hotel room, where you do smile shy
as you undress,
as in our own flesh minutes linger,
in nothingness,
in our intimacy we are alone,
of each other in bliss we become one.
[Reference: “A Bride’s Hours” by Jean Valentine.]
Latest comments:
13 october 2024
jeśli tylko
klaskanie jedną ręką
12 october 2024
Weronika
Dialog jednej osoby.
12 october 2024
Belamonte/Senograsta
no, też tak mam, nie wiem co się porobiło,
12 october 2024
prawie wszystkie wiersze są o przyrodzie
12 october 2024
tyle się o niej mówi, a dziwi, że przyszła..
12 october 2024
Nie da się ich hodować na balkonie :)
12 october 2024
takie mam blado liliowe, chłodne. Ale kwitną
12 october 2024
tak proste a plastyczne :)
12 october 2024
jest klimat :)
11 october 2024
to ciekawe, to może piszesz programy dla szkół?
11 october 2024
Dziękuję, widzę że nie wiem co z tego co
11 october 2024
sam53
jesień tak ma... :)))
13 october 2024
Satish Verma
12 october 2024
wiesiek
12 october 2024
Satish Verma
11 october 2024
wiesiek
11 october 2024
Satish Verma
10 october 2024
wiesiek
10 october 2024
Jaga
10 october 2024
Eva T.
10 october 2024
Satish Verma
9 october 2024
wiesiek