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

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Gert Strydom, 2 lipca 2012

Notes of a hot pursuit (haiku’s)

(after Bernard Odendaal)

The bush is silent
fear flies up with a black coot,
each weapon does train.

*

The radio screech
with its aerial tree high;
a meaningless halt.

*
Equipped with just
light skeleton type webbing;
the spoor becomes faint.

*
The sun burns hell hot,
the rifle, bullets are heavy;
we use the compass.

*

Boondock night is filled
with reconnoitre of the heart;
half ration tastes bad.

*

Without some water
in the scorching heat and wind,
the track disappears.

*

Like a dragonfly
a helicopter swoops down
and we leave the bush.

*
Cannot find hostiles!
In situation report:
still searching the heart.

[Reference: “krabbeling van ‘n hakkejag” (Writings about a hot pursuit) by Bernard Odendaal.]

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Gert Strydom, 2 lipca 2012

In the veldt while on military patrol (septilla / Spanish septet)

When sleeping in the veldt, the bush
while on military patrol
even if you are in control
out of your boots a snake may rush
and a crocodile you may meet
snapping its jaws at your feet
while toward the river you push.

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Gert Strydom, 29 czerwca 2012

In the sandy desert we were silent

In the sandy desert we were silent;
where white and brown sand lies next to each other
we saw aloes and lilies growing together,
a sand-grouse or maybe another bird
and still we did not say anything
but thirstily did not spill a drop of water.

The vastness, the intensity,
the sun that burnt scorching
brought us nearer to God
whose love pierces through all things,
even in places of dry rock and sand
and total forsaking.

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Gert Strydom, 29 czerwca 2012

Near to Gobabis

Near to Gobabis,
(when it still was South West Africa)
a farmer gave me a lift
when I was on military leave

and that hardened pioneer
who daily struggled against the desert
told me about the grace of God
and about His great love

while he watched me
where I was sweating in his pickup truck
and I was very sure that God measures out
the way of each human being

and the urgent blue eyes of that man
still stays with me
as he did know
something more about his creator.

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Gert Strydom, 28 czerwca 2012

On the open plain (Catena Rondo)

Some flowers rise up bright from tiny seeds,
blooms appear with heads searching for the sun;
on this earth so it’s been since time begun,
some flowers rise up bright from tiny seeds,

blooms appear with heads searching for the sun
they rejoice over a day that is new
are fresh with the glistening morning dew;
blooms appear with heads searching for the sun

they rejoice over a day that is new
as bees and butterflies flutter along
birds do sing the happiest kind of song
they rejoice over a day that is new,

as bees and butterflies flutter along
wild deer graze at the soft tender green grass
while they in massive herds do slowly pass
as bees and butterflies flutter along

wild deer graze at the soft tender green grass
some flowers rise up bright from tiny seeds
grow to strength in a world full of big weeds,
wild deer graze at the soft tender green grass,

some flowers rise up bright from tiny seeds,
blooms appear with heads searching for the sun;
on this earth so it’s been since time begun,
some flowers rise up bright from tiny seeds.

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Gert Strydom, 28 czerwca 2012

When the rest of nature comes to me

Late in the afternoon each bright weaver gambols
when the evening star shines blue-white,
each pretty butterfly flutters around
when wild pigeons land on the ground;
I am astonished in the restless city
when the rest of nature comes to me.

Through the trees the wind is a whispering,
when birds call in the silver twilight,
when the sun disappears, red behind the hillocks,
when stars appear with lights that wink,
I am astonished in the restless city
when the rest of nature comes to me.

Far away guinea fowls are calling,
preoccupied I sit peaceful on the porch,
see in the distance city lights shining
when the bats cavort to and thro,
I am astonished in the restless city
when the rest of nature comes to me.

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Gert Strydom, 28 czerwca 2012

Deep in the veldt

Deep in the veldt
there is peace from the bustle,
deep in the veldt
people do not always become disconcerted
with a depressing feeling;
here I can still feel near to God,
deep in the veldt.

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Gert Strydom, 26 czerwca 2012

Church Street, Pretoria

Right down the street the traffic lights are green
and a couple of homeless men stand around a fire
in a half drum and ambulances and police cars scream
while they past rows and rows of flats for hire
and a couple of kids stand smoking at the stream
and this is reality, the heart of the city.

On the sidewalk pedestrians walk in crowds of men,
women and some children, some booted up to the knee
others with mini skirts short enough to condemn them
and my city stays lovely to me.

People queue for fried chicken, fish
and chips at shops and cafés and the smells fill my nose
and tomatoes and onions, lamb and steak are fried with a hiss
and in the traffic an angry speed-cop tries to retain his pose
when a minibus taxi almost runs him over, gives him a fright
at a flickering traffic light
and cars stream by into the coming night.

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Gert Strydom, 25 czerwca 2012

You fit perfectly into my life (sonnet)

You fit perfectly into my life
I feel your steps where ever I go,
I even see your reflection in the glass
without it betraying your presence
and the times that we laugh together
now are happening more and more;
as if our humanity waits on each other
fragments of current events stay lingering,
as if you are the light in my life
I search for signs in the Milky Way,
in human recollections and even in memories
to find why you are know, but without explanation
of this connection between us,
that only draws us tighter together.

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Gert Strydom, 25 czerwca 2012

With each other

(after T.T. Cloete)

Together we enjoyed evenings
in each other’s company, dined out,
at times we talked and sometimes were silent;
for months we knew about our love,

we visited and drove around,
shared poems, stories and memories,
at times we only stayed peacefully at home,
we knew that love can never be boring

and we talked almost right through nights,
we went to church in suits and ties and coats,
we embraced every time that we got together,
even in rain showers and in muddy patches

while we were becoming much more in love.

[Reference: “die welkomsomhelsing” (the welcoming embrace) by T.T. Cloete.]