Something About The Girl Called Spring (Sonnet Corona)
I
Just after winter you are back enchanting
with unfolding blossoms on hot sunny days
playing your roles in all your beautiful ways
as if every day is a grand setting
with colours and smells alluring, inviting
man, animals and insects to stray
in orchards, gardens and in the veldt to play
wherever you may be wandering
while insects and birds sing sweet melodies,
even the breeze is charming
in the season that you bequeath
that becomes a time of sweet memories
while everywhere life is swarming;
flowers are as fragrant as your breath.
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poem by Gert Strydom
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To someone that I loved
I. The odours of jasmine
The odours of jasmine, gardenia
and lavender sneaks in
through the room’s window
and it smells like a perfumery
while rays upon rays march over the bed
climbing over your arms, body and legs
while we lie stretched out
close to each other,
ignoring the sounds from the street,
where cars rush by,
the barks of the dogs
yelping at passing strangers,
only when you wake up,
I draw the curtains shut
as we feel the coldness of twilight
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poem by Gert Strydom
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When I Stand At The End Of Our Love
I
When I stand at the end of our love
that disappears as if the flame
of destiny determines our feelings
then you trample my humanity to its depths.
When that which we see as holy does go lost
it makes my wonder,
if we can find a place somewhere
without any suspicion
where things are peaceful and clear
where we both are stripped from others,
where you wait faithful
with every word and deed a small witness
that our feelings did not change
in the glittering night full of stars.
II
In the glittering night full of stars
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poem by Gert Strydom
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Of Winged Things (Corona Of Wreathed Quatrains)
I. A yellow weaver
Time and again I see it fluttering
a small thing on the gate of the driveway
each day stretching, shaking its tiny wings,
while it sings, it’s as if I see it play
to portray a game that just weavers knows,
as the breeze blows it is twittering,
with feathers shining, quickly out it throws
in a own show paws and beak and its wing;
delighting with feathers yellow and sleek
somewhat meek I see it with colours shining,
with dogs wining giving me a small peek,
in the week I hear a pretty bird sing.
II. A black-collard barbet
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poem by Gert Strydom
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Every Night when Darkness Comes
I
Every night when darkness comes,
when we say prayers together
then I know that your bright light
never fails,
that you daily determine
the destiny of every one
who bend down to you, that stars spray like sparks
going to unknown places
and that you the sun of righteousness
will come at your set time
with bright rays, that you will come down
past all mortality,
that all earthly troubles and worries will disappear;
how do you Lord, let the pain be gone?
II
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poem by Gert Strydom
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Now is the time of our awakening
I
Now is the time of our awakening
in world where things are beautiful,
with the first caressing touch
of the morning’s refreshment
where the sun falls bright and hot,
where birds are singing together in joy,
in the blue jewel of the universe
about the glory that summer brings,
the earth is fresh after the first summer rain
with every tree, plant and flower
that grows much more powerful than previously
in the glory of their maturity
in every touch, colour and scent
we find nature at her prime.
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poem by Gert Strydom
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This Could Not Be The War We Fought In (Cavatina)
The new government talks down; they deceive
about winning
against us, the war in which we did fight;
the beginning
of this deceit is at primary school
and by sinning
they rewrite history to suit their lies,
to look brave in their supporters eyes.
We did destroy a Soviet controlled
Cuban army,
never lost any battle nor the war,
but liberty
given to their imprisoned leaders,
they are now free
to say whatever nonsense they want to,
in their actions atrocities to do.
Citizens did pay the ultimate price,
and went to war,
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poem by Gert Strydom
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How Do I Love You? (Sonnet Corona)
(after Elizabeth Barrett Browning)
I
There is no way
that I can truly express my love for you,
the yearning of every day
not even in the things that I say and do,
the simple things
that fit into the puzzle of life,
and heartfelt tidings
outbalances the every day strife
that comes naturally to a consort, or wife
is all unclear in the quite need,
and its truth never pierces like a knife,
it is from beyond any act or deed
but is like childhood faith, without pain
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poem by Gert Strydom
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Far too much in love I was with her (sonnet corona / crown of sonnets)
(for A)
I
Far too much in love I was with her
but probably she did not really love me,
while she became involved with another,
and I became her liability.
Crying I could hardly see
and although the parting was shattering
from her fighting rages I was finally free
and being alone at times was overwhelming
the parting is much better still
as she tried to stain my integrity
and at times did not have goodwill,
tried to hide from any responsibility,
destiny knew better about the things that ought to be,
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poem by Gert Strydom
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Maybe It's Love
I
The sun once blushed and was aware of you and me
where the river meanders away
while we were kissing each other,
where a finch twittered like an intruder
I took you by the hand,
we splashed laughing into the river
along the riverbank
but no water could was our sin away
When we undressed totally naked
you embraced me for indefinable pleasure
and we discovered each other as man and woman
your sin, became my sin
and I did not want to give up this experience;
it was wonderful to lie on the grass.
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poem by Gert Strydom
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