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Poezja

	Gert Strydom
	PROFIL O autorze Przyjaciele (13) Poezja (1888) Proza (37) Fotografia (5)

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Gert Strydom, 12 marca 2013

I see a small shack

I see a small shack
with pumpkins and rock
on the tinplate roof
to keep it in place.

There’s fog hanging over the marsh
and the croaking of frogs
comes forth like a choir.

I smell rain
that suddenly is falling on the outside
and the smell rises from the red brown dust,
and I see thunderbolts
drawing blue lines
and I am well sheltered
against wind and rain

and around me
the maize fields are green
and I have found my own little Eden.

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Gert Strydom, 12 marca 2013

Strike of dustbin men

At the gate to the street
there are dustbins
and rubbish bags heaped up
and you have
to walk on the tar road
in order to pass

and it grieves me
that the municipality
now still cannot get this sorted out.

In town the rioters
pass under police escort
and rubbish is being dumped into the street
as if we are living
in the middle of a rubbish dump.

I have to swerve out
to avoid the rubbish
and the rioters are singing in revolt
and scream and shout jeering

and I see them throwing branches
and small trees
into the traffic
as if they have the right
to cause damage
and see the police
still keeping their distance.

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Gert Strydom, 12 marca 2013

He retched and almost choked in it

He retched and almost choked in it
and as the stinking bile
hit his throat
the dizziness of one too many whiskey’s
hit the mark
and he collapsed against
the chest of drawers.

His wife with her cold calculating eyes
reminded him of a dead fish
with a heart of cold stone
with lips pressed tightly together,

but there was something in the stare,
something that pierced him
and reminded him of the disgust
welling up in his spirit,

and erect she stood rocking the child
her nose inch up, as if he was below her
in each and every way
and anger gave power to his hands,
jerking a drawer out
he hurled it with great force
splintering the wood
against her head.

Like a animal that had its revenge
he was turning away
when out of the corner of his eye
he saw red blood
dripping from the forehead of his wife.

Drop by drop fell
on the baby boy’s shining hair
soaking through to the child’s scalp
and in fascination he looked on.

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Gert Strydom, 11 marca 2013

Another winter (imagism)

Biting coldness grabs me with rain on this winter night -
where I walk along the promenade
and the wind is alive
and grabs on to me and grabs me again
like a impudent child
and bleak-white a lightning bolt crashes down
and I smell the explosion of that intimacy
while the red face of the moon bursts out of the sea,
disappears and are again present,
like a swimming champion
that breaks through the water with breaststroke
and for moments I stand to watch the water
which is black, wild and stormy
like a very angry woman
and I hear the moaning of the wind,
while the stars peer at me through the wind tossed clouds
with strange earnest faces.

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Gert Strydom, 11 marca 2013

Bush telegraph

(after Johann Johl)

We drive along the Kolkhoz road
where it passes near to an old battlefield
of the third German empire
of which nobody now bears any knowledge.

Its already spring and in the wood
some blossoms are appearing
and here and there
wild flowers grow next to the dust track

which are slushy from the mud
and we slide and slide
almost like on a rally track
until the road ends at the datja
where we want to spend the weekend.

We hear a black Eurasian woodpecker
knocking tick-tock against some trees
with the sound resounding right through the wood
as if he wants to signal
an unknown message to us.

The bush looks like something
out of the Baba-Jaga witch tale
and while Tanja tells me
about that evil cannibal

it’s as if somebody walks over my grave
and the hairs of both my arms rise
but I view it as coming from the chill.

Like peasants we stop
and look at the scene,
breath in the fresh air
and see how our boots
leave tracks on the loam.

Quickly we carry our baggage into the dwelling
and Tanja’s face is blushing
when we walk through the wood

where I am picking some wild flowers for her
and her smile is far past lovely
and her braided hair
swishes cheeky to and thro.

She carries a basket and we walk
from berry bush to berry bush
to fill it with brambles
that grow everywhere around us

and the woodpecker knocks out its signal
even louder and louder
as if his messages is becoming more urgent
but still we are not able to decipher it.

The Marconi-bird
suddenly flies past screaming,
knowing that his warning
is not regarded
and it’s black with a red crown.

Tanja walks in advance
to the next bramble bush
is looking picture perfect with her blue eyes
which are shining brightly

when a German landmine
suddenly becomes alive beneath her
and the crackling explosion
of sunken scrap-iron
spreads her much higher
than the birch trees.

[Reference: Bostelegraaf (Bush telegraph) by Johann Johl. Kolkhoz: Community farm. Black Eurasian woodpecker: Dryacopus martius. Datja: Russian holiday home. Baba-Jaga: Russian cannibal witch.]

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Gert Strydom, 8 marca 2013

For a while the autumn sun hovered

For a while the autumn sun
hovered like a fire ball
in the night sky
and the last
of summer’s heat
was still here.

Like leaves on a huge tree
the stars appeared on by one
filling the night sky

and amber lights started to glow
in the street and the evening’s serenity
unfolded like a big blanket
spreading out with the night.

Crickets started to shriek
and frogs started croaking
and a bright yellow moon
lit up the sky
and this night
there is only you and I
and its wonderful to be together.

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Gert Strydom, 8 marca 2013

Our love that was lost

Our love that was lost
has been again found,
but at a terrible cost
heartache drove me into the ground.

Our garden is again blossoming
while in love we carefully plant
kisses and caresses,
swear to each other to be true

and somehow I forever new
that this day of happiness would come,
even in the darkest night
dreamt of you.

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Gert Strydom, 7 marca 2013

A psalm in the twenty first century (virelay)

From light years far away in space and time
You are the architect
who takes care of a planet the size of a dime;
a far off small object.

You ordain our days and to us intimately connect
as a kind of loving being
giving sanctuary, even if crudely we do You reject,
with You are disagreeing.

Still You are protecting everything that is living,
constantly giving light
even to those who are in rebellion, unbelieving
who yearn for the night

and of Your kindness we do not have true sight,
we judge You incorrect
as a supreme being that rules by force and might,
giving You no respect.

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Gert Strydom, 7 marca 2013

Elementary thoughts

Humanly we leave words on paper,
while we try to determine the language
of Him who is the core of the Bible story.

                                                         *

We take things consisting out of flesh and blood,
that has got living energy, want to take the elements out,
while we search for the code of life in mortal material.

                                                         *

With our mental capacity we are valued equal
to animals that mutate
while the Bible teaches us about a creation story.

                                                         *

We think that we know the figure road of the universe,
compose theories that declare things in space
while amazed we do look at the great works of God.


                                                         *

Three dimensional we see things,
with length, breadth and depth in which things do fit,
while immaterial we do grope at the boundaries of love.

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Gert Strydom, 7 marca 2013

When the time comes

When the time comes where human science,
maths and learning do not anymore correlate
with that which is written in the words
of the almighty God,

when man exalts himself like a god,
has no esteem
for the words of God
and wait upon another mighty being,

and does regard himself higher that the creator God,
does see his laws of human rights more important
than the commandments of God
without any respect for the Godly law,

then God in His omnipotence will go much further than any science,
He will reach His hand to the stars and let them rain down,
will shake the earth with earthquakes and tear it open,
and let the oceans swallow the islands

and the wide world will know
that the judgment of the Lord God is coming near.
When the last mighty angel blows its trumpet
Jesus Christ will appear in the sky

and each and every human being will know that He is greater,
much mightier than any reason, mathematics and science,
that He Himself determines all things,
when He comes to fetch His children.