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Poetry

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

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Gert Strydom, 2 february 2012

I know the harsh wilderness (roundelay)

I know the harsh wilderness, the wild veldt,
the craggy hillocks I had at times beheld,
the wide open scorching cobalt-blue sky
but the tranquillity I cannot deny.

There are some aloes growing in the crags
their orange-red flowers waving like flags,
like old spots of blood dotted on the eye
but the tranquillity I cannot deny.

Sugar-bush and medlar in spring does flower,
while grass jumps knee-high after each shower,
up in the air falcons and eagles do fly
but the tranquillity I cannot deny.

Time has not influence on this rugged land
where high cliffs are between the grass and sand,
I had seen rock-rabbits run at a single cry
but the tranquillity I cannot deny.

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Gert Strydom, 2 february 2012

Far too many aspens are now felled (cavatina)

(after William Cowper and Gerard Manley Hopkins)

Far too many aspens are now felled,
gone is the shade
while the wind blows and its searching in vain
the colonnade
where it once played its own happy song;
it is man made
the destruction that came, the great havoc
that down many rows of great trees did knock.

[References: “The Poplar-Field” by William Cowper and “Binsey Poplars” by Gerard Manley Hopkins.]

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Gert Strydom, 2 february 2012

As I had a walk on the path over the hill (roundelay)

As I had a walk on the path on the hill
the wind did swish and then it was quite still
the flowering of the aloes had begun
amongst the rocks in the summer sun.

A bird flapped loose rose into the sky,
up and up did some surging eagles fly
while a flock of rock rabbits did run
amongst the rocks in the summer sun.

Every bird and insect was absolutely free
and that experience remains still with me,
as the beautiful lily that I came upon
amongst the rocks in the summer sun.

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Gert Strydom, 1 february 2012

On military leave during war (cavatina)

Stepping out of the train life seems quite strange;
another track
brings more happy shouting busy people;
to turn right back
to how life had once been is impossible,
under attack
he feels a stranger to his loving wife
as if he is dead while he is alive.

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Gert Strydom, 1 february 2012

The slaughter of the little lambs

(after E. E. Cummings)

In the years when like some innocent lambs
boys were forced
by acts of John Vorster, PW, FW and Co
to the slaughter
of themselves but of mostly enemies;
death, shell-shock came
during the epoch of righteousness
of sister churches

with war raging in Namibia and Angola,
boys lost their souls,
where forever changed, by the killing;
trying to survive,
while generals, that are known, medals drew,
while commanding
from out of danger, from as far away as Pretoria,
in safety and bliss

while every John, Dick and Harry in their country’s love
fought fierce battles,
destroyed Soviet controlled Cuban / FAPLA divisions,
lost limbs, sanity,
were only wishing for tranquillity and peace,
they were sold out,
their bravery trampled, victories lied about as defeats
by a new government,

and some with degrees by affirmative action are jobless.

[Reference: “The Season ‘Tis, My Lovely Lambs” by E. E Cummings.]

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Gert Strydom, 1 february 2012

During war’s manmade darkness (cavatina) (in answer to Dylan Thomas)

During war’s manmade darkness, the havoc
envelops man;
tramples flower, bird and beast in breaking;
where life began
remains nothing than the shattering death;
no good thing can
come from the drive to conquer and possess,
while in evil man does downwards digress.

[Reference: “A Refusal to Mourn the Death, by Fire, of a Child in London” by Dylan Thomas.]

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Gert Strydom, 31 january 2012

There is a swimming pool in a small town (Orléans rondel prime)

There is a swimming pool in a small town
where water sparkles as blue as the sky,
where some bikini clad girls draw the eye,
with skin tanned to mahogany brown,

where from a diving board people dive down,
where time gets wings and quickly rushes by.
There is a swimming pool in a small town
where water sparkles as blue as the sky,

where a myriad of beautiful girls daily lie,
where the garden is somewhat overgrown
and children buy sweets, chips and pie,
while teens frolic until the sun does die.
There is a swimming pool in a small town
where water sparkles as blue as the sky.

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Gert Strydom, 31 january 2012

Hovering I saw a redbreast and a wren (roundelay)

Hovering I saw a redbreast and a wren,
who were both very scared of men
and to me both birds had some lovely charm,
as innocents to which I meant no harm.

Fluttering some cooing wild doves came down
making my small garden their very own
some pecked bread or landed on my arm,
as innocents to which I meant no harm.

Pecking some hoopoes landed in my yard
and the two of them was never apart,
fleeing in their scared heart throbbing alarm
as innocents to which I meant no harm.

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Gert Strydom, 31 january 2012

Thunder touched (cavatina sequence)

There is a place with scorched molten earth
near some hillocks
where blue lightning lashes repeatedly
and there it knocks
anything that it can find with its fire,
where some big rocks
draws it somehow on that much higher ground,
that is cleared from anything around.

The sky was ominous grey and brooding,
intensely black
while static or maybe fear made hairs rise,
we did turn back
while some rain, bird egg size hail drilled down;
under attack
of great blue-white thunder that was falling
with a mighty whipping roaring blue sting.

Just in time we reached some safe cover,
we were drenched
while bolts of blue thunder fell threatening,
in fear clenched
were the fingers of both her tiny hands,
as if wrenched
the muscles of her arms moved in pain
while thunder lashed again and again.

Blue-white blazing light fell on closed lids;
her inner eye
remembered decimating scorching
from some times by,
when medical staff unleashed a bolt
let fury fly,
torching some synapses of her own mind,
experimenting they acted unkind.

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Gert Strydom, 30 january 2012

On an army of rebelling mercenaries (rondel) (in answer to A.E. Housman)

Those rebels wanting heaven to be falling,
who before Michael and his forces fled;
had a demonic, destructive calling
and by there wages are worse than dead;

on earth their actions are still appalling
as they only bring some sorrow and dread.
Those rebels wanting heaven to be falling
who before Michael and his forces fled,

are trying almost everything to be stalling
as their corruption and evil they spread;
the high heaven they are still recalling
as to utter destruction they do head;
those rebels wanting heaven to be falling.

[Reference: “Epitaph on an Army of Mercenaries” by A. E. Housman.]