Najnowsze prace:

Poezja

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

najnowsze najwyżej punktowane najczęściej komentowane

Gert Strydom, 13 lutego 2012

Far too quickly each yesterday fades (cavatina sequence)

(after William Shakespeare)

Far too quickly each yesterday fades,
ephemeral
each new tomorrow sweeps past day to day;
a funeral
of new beginnings in recorded time,
in general
like a shadow following waning light,
becoming part of the eventual night.

All life is at the whim of destiny,
were the dice falls
life and death begins and ends as it wills;
men large and small
are actors on a universal stage,
beyond recall
are every happy, sad yesterday
while continually on and on we play.

Oblivion swallows all of our old tales,
as to the rim
the candle of every single life
goes very dim
while nothing is as it had been before,
at mere chance’s whim
nothing of significance is left
and of all our substance we are bereft.

[Reference: “Tomorrow and tomorrow” Macbeth, Act V, Scene 5 by William Shakespeare.]

liczba komentarzy: 0 | punkty: 0 | szczegóły

Gert Strydom, 13 lutego 2012

After her death I dreamed of my love (cavatina sequence)

(After William Shakespeare)

After her death I dreamed of my love,
with eyes sparkling
somewhat divine like the stars that glitter,
somehow existing
in the dark outer space, with her two hands
reaching, touching,
the circumference of this great earth,
with a sash of vast planets in her girth.

White blazing braking thunder was her breath,
her eyes were blue
as the purest kind of cobalt hued sky
her love was true,
even much greater than it was before,
her retinue
were the elements, some power divine
and still she wanted to be only mine.

[Reference: “Cleopatra’s Lament” from “Antony and Cleopatra, Act V, Scene 2 by William Shakespeare.]

liczba komentarzy: 0 | punkty: 0 | szczegóły

Gert Strydom, 10 lutego 2012

Nightingales (roundelay)

Barren are the hillocks, the cliffs and streams
in the wilderness where the sun harshly beams
where you nest, learn your joyous sublime sound,
filling many nights with something profound

where you sing at times right up to the dawn
and to your sweet voice many men are drawn
while it is echoes through the sky and ground
filling many nights with something profound.

liczba komentarzy: 0 | punkty: 0 | szczegóły

Gert Strydom, 10 lutego 2012

Early summer

The year is full of the hot blue sky,
every spring flower has become fruit,
when the maturity of the summer appears
and gone is all the strife and pain.

There are joyful birds wherever I go,
giant oaks are decked in leaves in the lane
while the sun shines bright until the late afternoon
and gone is all the strife and pain.

When summer rain comes down fruitful,
days become illustrious,
while love shines on your face
and gone is all the strife and pain;

when God keeps my country in his palm,
when a time of neighbourly love unfolds,
when every thing that brings discord slowly disappears
and gone is all the strife and pain.

liczba komentarzy: 0 | punkty: 1 | szczegóły

Gert Strydom, 10 lutego 2012

Days are now hotter than they were before (rondel prime)

Days are now hotter than they were before
with many blooming flowers one can find
while the spring brings out what it has in store
in a time that is gentle, sweet and kind

while glory waits just outside the front door
and happiness is even in the slight wind.
Days are now hotter than they were before
with many blooming flowers one can find

and spring feels as it will last forevermore,
will it brings the most joyful times to mind,
when people in fun do each other adore
as if they can all unhappiness rescind.
Days are now hotter than they were before
with many blooming flowers one can find

liczba komentarzy: 0 | punkty: 0 | szczegóły

Gert Strydom, 9 lutego 2012

Playing Mig roulette (cavatina)

Playing Mig roulette, along we would drive
without cover,
listening for reports from commandos
then pull over,
to hide under trees and camouflage nets,
then recover;
after the futile enemy bombing
again armoured cars would be driving.

[Poet’s note: Mig here refers to Mig-21 and Mig-23 fighter bombers flown by the enemy Cuban / FAPLA air-force.]

liczba komentarzy: 0 | punkty: 0 | szczegóły

Gert Strydom, 9 lutego 2012

The decimation of the 47th Cuban / FAPLA Brigade (cavatina)

That night thunder flash after thunder flash
roared blood red,
I could smell scorched flesh, saw the havoc
of the burnt dead,
while the armoured car’s gun hammered;
Cubans had fled,
left their pristine battle tanks to run away,
while we fought through the night into the day.

liczba komentarzy: 0 | punkty: 1 | szczegóły

Gert Strydom, 9 lutego 2012

The old savage dream again was back

The old savage dream again was back
of enemy tanks coming down the track,
useless the light machinegun was stuttering
as exploding shells made both my ears sing
while I could find no kind of escape,
events caught speed like a winding video tape,

I was firing from the hip without effect
had no ready rocket launcher to select,
heard the nearing enemy tank tracks groan,
while my limbs were slow, turning to stone;
from the blue sky a screeching eagle fell,
death was in its claws, triumph in its yell,

while it dropped scorching deadly flame,
heroic returning under fire to do the same.

liczba komentarzy: 0 | punkty: 0 | szczegóły

Gert Strydom, 8 lutego 2012

As a pretty butterfly that flutters (cavatina sequence)

As a pretty butterfly that flutters
along she came,
rapidly always running up and down;
nothing could tame
that childish sweet happy rushing spirit;
her lovely name
is not heard anymore as she is gone,
from life into death she has moved on.

Some soothing summer sunshine must be lost,
she does not pass,
no small shadow falls or lingers at times;
outside the grass
is quite soft where her small feet once did tread,
like clear bright glass
the sky is clear without a single fleck;
from her I cannot my sad thoughts direct.

liczba komentarzy: 0 | punkty: 1 | szczegóły

Gert Strydom, 8 lutego 2012

While that night was darker than anything (cavatina sequence)

(after Edwin Arlington Robinson)

Where shadows were creeping over the wall
in twilight skies
there I waited at her favourite spot
dusk caught my eyes
while in the garden I did remember
a paradise,
intensely I wished her to come,
I really wished for her to be home

but who can break that devastating spell
of utter death
from the place of eternal lifeless rest,
had she bequeath
a lingering presence I wondered;
I felt her breath,
but it only could have been the breeze stirring
while that night was darker than anything.

I was however still yearning for her,
for a sweet kiss,
as without her my life felt really lost,
her I did miss,
did not know which way to go from right here;
in how life is
love still was fresh and was still lingering
as if greater than any other thing.

[Reference: “Luke Havergal” by Edwin Arlington Robinson.]