To much for me
At times
my work, the church
and to drive in a car
becomes to much for me.
a Girl at work
wants to run away
as far,
as God gave land;
but the water is off
and I just want
to find a toilet.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Sorry (Pleiades)
Sorry is the saddest word,
some pain, a sense of lost,
so much difficulty to
say that some failure came,
some inadequacy is
sometimes present and exist,
still sorry heals wounds at times.
poem by Gert Strydom
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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.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The dark night
The dark night
wants to enclose everything with her cloak,
the dark night
bewitches the moon that waits on her
to join her shining yellow gold
and jollily people come home from
the dark night
poem by Gert Strydom
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Enchantment (Nonet)
There was a kind of magic, catching
when I saw you on the first time,
a secret kind attraction
with my stomach fluttering,
my feet going lame,
your pure laughter
had caught me,
I was
dumb.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Muse
Every poet waits
for a really great poem
to take form
in words,
but I rather want my muse
to become part of me
and to give life to every word
and to write words
that comes flaming from the page.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Whole World Spins (Rondelet)
The whole world spins
when you are on a carousel,
the whole world spins
on its axis from the begin
while all on earth is going well,
and children do laugh play and yell;
the whole world spins.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Daily I Do You More Adore
Daily I do you more adore
and daily things do change
from what they had been before
and even if at times it feels strange,
even if some other names I do call
forever you do remain my all in all.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Your Voice
That your voice over the cellular phone
changes my day, brings joy
so unexpectedly to my world
is a peculiar thing
and when I break the connection,
the world feels somewhat different and unusual.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Orion
In the sky I see at night
the hunter Orion
lurking nearer
with his club raised
ready to bash
and its oblong shape
becoming clearer
and the belt shines bright
and sword dimmer
where it points away.
poem by Gert Strydom
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