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Poezja

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

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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 13 kwietnia 2015

Anna Akhmatova

I see her standing, waiting in line
outside a prison
as if becoming part of her poem
and it requiems through my mind
and I can hear her asking more
than absolution and see the Yezhov terror
through her eyes

and even when I read her love poems
and are caught in their rapture,
feeling as if she has captured the essence
between light and darkness
when her words end
she fades away like a spectre.

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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 10 kwietnia 2015

Poem on honeymoon (sonnet)

Today I am your darling and your hero
who does accompany you everywhere,
maybe a man with fame and money
that who pays for a holiday at a hotel
and even in your dreams you do see my face
while my hand rests upon your side
and you are bewitched by the words that I say
by the wild passion in each kiss
when your blood flows wild
in the loving between us
where our lives are growing to the most beautiful dreams
and you do discover every thing and part of me
but how will you feel in the days of old age
when hardship or illness may come unexpectedly?

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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 8 kwietnia 2015

If you remember me

If you remember me when I am gone,
when life is mine no more
then shut all bad things,
all unpleasant thoughts of me
like you will a closing door

and let it be like the first time
that we have met
when every thing between us was new

and let I be to you
the things and words that made you smile,
and remember me for just a little while
with no sadness or pain

and let things remain between the two of us
as it was when you loved me best
and then forget me
and let me rest and have tranquillity
while my words still live on
as parts of me while I am gone.

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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 7 kwietnia 2015

Anne, at the window

Somehow I see you peering
right through the window,
thought struck looking at the sea
in the distance
and I wonder what is in your mind?

If you remember the times
that the two of us
were young and in love
and it feels as if an eternity
has been spend since then

but there’s something in your gaze,
that is truly beautiful and far past pretty,
some serenity shrouding you
and I wonder if you sometimes miss me
as much as I had missed you once?

Anne, at the window
the new morning is dawning
and the sun is romantically red
and the mountains and sea
is in the distance
and you are looking very lonely

and I wonder when
someone will again your smile see?

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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 6 kwietnia 2015

When I do comprehend (sonnet)

When I do comprehend
the painful and humiliating cross
that brings to sin and suffering an end
then any other great thing is at a loss

and when a love so deep and divine
does become my very own
and Your selfless life becomes mine
then there is more grace than that which I have known

and then I do understand that although You did say:
“Father forgive them for they know not what they do,”
You did also forgive the ones that knew on that day
and your mercy and love goes through

any barrier that life and destiny can bring
and that knowing You is amazing.

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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 5 kwietnia 2015

A conversation with God

Everything that I posses does not belong to me

but is a sign of Your love and great mercy

and even all my great and good deeds

do not make me free of Your crucifixion or of blame

and even though I do possess fame and respect,

that which I can become

is only the blessing that You do pour down upon me

and all of my existence,

even the most brilliant thoughts in my mind,

that which do carry meaning for me

You my Lord, do provide before I can ask for it

and does only come as a gift from Your hand.

Your great care is wherever I am
and You do regard everyone that I meet as Your own child.

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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 2 kwietnia 2015

Precious Jesus, take my hand (Rubiyat / Persian quatrain)

At one of the great precipices in life I do stand
and I ask: “omnipotent Jesus, take my hand,
lead me with Your great unending love
all the way to that blessed Beulah Land.

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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 2 kwietnia 2015

Paintings and painters that come alive to me

I

As if he could break time into pieces
Salvador Dali did bend watches
where one hangs over a branch and another
is over a bodily thing and its as if time jumps back
while everything gleams very bright
with the open landscape in the background
and only a branch and a cupboard in foreground
so as if the white sun is climbing golden over it
and he did wonder what Gala would think
did forget for moments about the painting
but that energy did have its own power,
he poured a glass of wine to have with his cheese and bread,
did wonder if she knows of his love?
And he did put his hat on his head.

II

He did put his hat on his head,
saw the light of God falling through the window
and it was more golden in colour than just white
where he was exhibiting light and shadows,
and from it depth did just appear by itself
and the face was glowing almost alive
and was totally free against the black background
while he was caught, seriously riveted
by the art coming from his fingers
and he did wonder if God at the creation
did stand back from His great works, was astounded
with the earthly dome
and before the master gleams an image that cannot perish
while he paints with opaque paint.

III

He paints with opaque paint
is busy with a water-colour
where he does sit in the sun at the back of the yard
and tell me about the course of events.
To my astonishment it’s a landscape
of a misty dark wood
where a couple are wandering
with a small road that meanders in its simplicity
Those later runs into gigantic trees
with bright flowers still fresh
with drops of dew and big splashes of sunshine
that burst hot through at some places
with drops hanging on the trees on the bright day;
while the whole world is laughing at him.

IV

While the whole world is laughing at him
its as if God Himself is taking his hand
in every line, every colour that splashes down
while everybody does not care about his art,
not even the great beauty of the starry night
and when he paints sunflowers his tears are flowing
when voices, people do stain his life
and he paints the most beautiful things,
perfect picture upon perfect picture
and its as if he is expecting nothing that is good,
the darkness grows in his soul while he dresses,
when he chops off his ear, does disfigure his face
and tired he stands alone against a force majeure
when my eyes do enter that sombre room.

V

When my eyes do enter that sombre room
it feels as if I was walking on the cool wooden floor,
and about this painting he maybe is shy
as if it is personal when I walk closer.
The small table next to the bed is loaded
with painted clay pots, a bottle of wine and a glass,
paintings hang on the walls almost up to the ceiling
while light comes in through the yellow curtains
that brings warmth to the earthly room,
the purple walls do stand out
along with the bright red blanket of the small bed
and I cannot understand any gloominess
while I see him stuck in his thoughts in a wheat acre
with the hot sun burning without any mercy.

VI

With the hot sun burning without any mercy,
he wears a straw hat to block the bright rays,
at times does shade his eyes with his big hand
and paints with masterly form and balance.
It is God’s wheat acres and cypress trees
that he becomes aware of there in front of the mountain,
monsters that suddenly appear like in dreams
do come as great storm clouds in the sky
with two bushes and some tress half blown to a side
the wheat acre is so yellow, the seed so ripe
that in his fingers he can turn the grains of wheat out
and against the bright light he has to close his eyes
while the wind blows where he is painting and at times it does annoy him
and alone I see a figure standing, minutely small.

VII

Alone I see a figure standing, minutely small
against the catastrophic evil that waits like a lightening bolt
that is ready to bash down, but is still hidden
while a unearthly texture or something is breathing in your neck
and its as if total destruction is waiting,
is focused on everything living,
is hidden in a somewhat evil power
that wants to strike as a kind of judgement
in that forbidding environment,
as if the mountain is going to exploded in mere moments,
in lava or with a earthquake
will bring everything back to pieces of dust
and there is evil jumping out of the painting
as if he could break time into pieces

[The paintings: I: “The Persistence of Memory” by Salvidor Dali, II: Ectched Self-portrait of Rembrandt with his hat on by Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn, V: “Vincent’s Room” by Vincent Willem Van Gogh. VI: “Wheat Fields and Cypress Trees” by Vincent Willem Van Gogh. VII: A landscape by Hercules Pieterszoon Seghers]

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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 20 marca 2015

The hotel room

The hotel room is eight levels up
and an interesting place
to find some intimacy,
to be alone as two people together
and the concierge carries out cases
touches his hat and leaves
and outside a battalion of umbrellas
are marching past
minutely small like playing dolls
braving the wet weather
and your Chanel perfume fills my head,
your smile goes right into my heart
and you are very pretty
and I am utterly lucky to have you
as a darling, companion and friend and wife.

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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 19 marca 2015

Hers is a clean kitchen

(a small ode to my wife Daleen)

Hers is a clean kitchen
with everything tidy in its place
while white dough, turns to bread
in the black oven

sweetly smelling and surely delightful
and in baking pans some more dough
is rising and in a little while
it will turn to baked rusks

and her darling hands
that cares tenderly
have played their part in life
with a gentle smile on her face
and the first sings of age
are just touching her hair
but from her glance,
love is spreading everywhere.

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10 - 30 - 100

Pozostałe wiersze: For now and for always, The temptation of being near to her, Your walking away is measured in watt, In the garden (ABECEDARIUM), Just for a moment it is there, There are people, Unknowing we may be living in a war zone, Holiday, I yearn for the secrets of nature (sonnet), At 52 the nuts of my country are stripped, A strange dream (triolet), The beach, the morning, Where star systems do disappear in the nought (sonnet), Come to my flower garden, Warriors of the civil service, This morning the sky glitters blue, You must not show any fear, My dear loving God, Sad tidings, Morning, Mirror image, The sun hangs orange red, Divorce V, Divorce IV (Espinela), Divorce III, Divorce II (cavatina), Divorce, Respite, At times we are only set on passing (American sonnet), The peach tree, The gardener, The old guitar (cavatina), Dear Lord God, Still life, Two sides to everything (cavatina), I have missed my country, The sardine run, He lies stretched out in the sun, Africa, There’s no other country, When death’s fingers do me touch, I wonder where is an untouched place that firmly does stand, You never came, I am afraid, The silent countdown, Without matter, Dare you character?, Once I wrote a kind of happy song (Orléans rondel prime), There is no other saviour, Alone we come into the world (for my mom on mother’s day), With hunger in your eyes, Please do forgive, Hoba West Meteor, When I do consider how my time is spent, I see him doing carpentry, When the two of us met, John Phillip, On Pretoria (Italian sonnet), Return, Cecil John Rhodes (Italian sonnet) (in answer to Rudyard Kipling), Afterwards, I walk in the veldt near to Majuba hillock, Vain are the words and deeds that are mine (Rubiyat sonnet), When I do find no place of peace (sonnet), Why I remember the Anglo-Boer war (John Dee sonnet), Lord, only in Your footsteps (Persian / Rubiyat quatrain), On a night, Far too quickly time rushes on (Persian /Rubiyat quatrain), Like any other person, She lives beautiful (sonnet), Where this world is but a grain of sand, On the day of my birth, The crucifixion of the Son of God, Today my heart is full of joy, A prayer (Sonnet), On my birthday, My heart has gone quite in me (Persian / Rubiyat quatrain), Come to me, Soldier: yesterday, At this place I have been before (sonnet), There had been a kind of loneliness, When the early the morning does begin (cavatina), Constantly I am astonished, When I hold you tight, Life is a gift, Bus trip at night, I have not seen the spark of life, Kamikaze, Lucifer at sunrise, The things in a town, When from me she is out of sight, How chilly like winter, Some times, I love you, Long Beach, As my eyes gaze into the dark night, I see her dancing gaily, Right against the morass, African September, A room in the past, The secret room, It had been a hell of spring with the sun hanging scorching, The marsh, For my darling, with New Year, The old year, Today people are not interested, South Africa is also my country, In this distant country, What fanciful lives we lead, As if they are beacons, You are my darling (sonnet), On Christmas, Last night I dreamt of you, Where are we now?, I had dreamt of you, At night the mind plays its tricks, Inside you and I dance, One Military Hospital, Something about a bird in a tree, While the year hangs skeleton, I gave my love to you, No other painting, Field of maize, The red arum lilies, Would my words, When the front door, At dusk, Child, Cry, Maybe 4, Maybe 3, Maybe 2, To be us, Photocopy machine, I do love Africa, While everything is turning brown outside, The crumbling man, My small Jack Russell dog, With self contempt I stand in the veldt, The fallen Cuban soldier, There is a time when night sneaks in, After the farm invasions in Zimbabwe, The small redbreast sings and dances, I love you, Walls, A child is a strange thing, Baby lies so fast asleep, It is a pitch-dark night, Hecuba, A pastor,

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