Through the window the new moon peeps
(For Daleen)
I
Through the window the new moon peeps,
many stars glitter blue-white
where they sit glowing in the darkness,
like diamonds at which I look,
when the ginger cat stands in the windowsill,
next to me the moon falls on your face
and it looks as if you are dreaming,
as the lights of a car passes
and I am blessed to have you here,
with your intimate heat next to me,
but it's only a dream in which I dare this
as if a thousand nights will be such
and I am free of my worries,
it's as if everything fades in your presence.
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poem by Gert Strydom
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The battle of Isandhlwana
Shaded by a wild fig tree
where the Tugela river enters the ocean
representatives of British queen Victoria
demanded that the Zulus give up
their independence.
The Zulu king Cetshwayo
would never again send his impi
into battle against the Boer farmers,
but the British his impi would spear
and bash to death
and he ordered
his general Nishingwayo KaMahole Khoza
to halt the British invaders.
The Zulu commander remembered the battle
at Blood River well
where four hundred and seventy
Boer farmers fought
from behind their wagons
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poem by Gert Strydom
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Totally Lost
I
With someone new to adore,
you are constantly
haunting me
as if at times you can penetrate through death
but sometimes I know that I am fabricating it
and for years you are out of my life
but sometimes I cannot get you out of my thoughts
before you jump into my heart again
as if you are not peaceful
on the other side
and in my sorrow and in life's coldness
I am stranded here
and you find no kind of relief
in the late night's big silence.
II
In the late night's big silence
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poem by Gert Strydom
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When Our Love Is True (Sonnet Corona)
I
When all things of our love are really true
like it was on every yesterday,
and nothing at all can make it decay,
when the special thing between me and you
do not pass us by as other things do
and on every sunny day by day
we do live, cry, laugh and sometimes play
and by tomorrow you feel this way too
and still love me then just as tenderly
then I am blessed have joys in excess
when you fill me, even when I lie prone,
your loving is more then I can express
and become part, in what I want to be
in a lower hue, a much simpler tone.
II
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poem by Gert Strydom
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Separation
I
You have left and I am missing life
do miss sitting in the mornings or evenings on the porch
or under the old pepper tree
to hear doves coo, small birds calling each other
or to see you making food in the kitchen
where you fry feta cheese with spinach,
where your are involved in conversations with me,
where I see you busy making fruit salad
where I at times pour a glass of wine for you
but more to hold you tightly against me,
to see the stars shining against the heaven
when the day grows faint from blue to black,
to hear you play a song over and over again,
to share maybe a hundred times with me.
II
To share maybe a hundred times with me
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poem by Gert Strydom
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Even if my life without you comes to a halt
(for M)
I
Even if my life without you comes to a halt,
even if I see your face in those of other women
I continue with the steps of each day,
while I have got to give you up.
Daisies are flowering; roses open in the garden,
the sun hangs yellow-gold in the cobalt sky;
and when each morning I go to town
I return again back home
and although this separation
makes me feel very much alone
and comes between us with distance
there is still the wind whose fingers play over me
and I am not connected to your humanity anymore
while I try to find my way into the wide world.
Sometimes I drive long distances
when my motorbikes comes to life under me.
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poem by Gert Strydom
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In Darkness
I
The twilight is framed and covered in black,
drawn closed on the one side,
when suddenly it carries blue-white thunder
that burns sparking, it's deadly risky,
where no sign of any moon
rise up against the closed night sky,
there are only thunder flashes hitting flickering
without a sign of the Southern Cross
and still the earth waits on drops of rain
to start their irrigation
when a shower continuously patters down,
seeping into the deep ground,
thunderbolts reports constantly
while twilight falls silver over the beach.
II
While twilight falls silver over the beach
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poem by Gert Strydom
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Better It Would Have Been (Sonnet Corona / Crown Of Sonnets)
I
Without you much better it would have been,
if in this wide world under all the skies
I did not know you, I had never seen
the glimmer, the attraction in your eyes.
Better it would have been if I unseen
at the braking of that particular day
joyous, somewhat sincere like a teen
went on another different kind of way,
I would then have totally missed you
as our love, our joy was sealed in vain.
You would not have opportunity to do
things that leave much heartache and pain
as your heart was set in some treachery,
your blunt rebuke was not sought by me.
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poem by Gert Strydom
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Far Too Little I Know
I
Far too little I know about the things that lie between us,
I see the sea drawing back and rushing in,
I know too little to tell you about my love,
see your tracks disappearing over a sand dune.
I know too little to talk about a secret,
how one day can be so very special,
filled with life changing meaning,
about the things that I read in your eyes
but that that you really love me,
I know before the sea wipes our tracks away
when I kiss you and get you giggling,
while we give new steps into life
when you became the meaning in my small universe;
if you were the light falling through the window on me.
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poem by Gert Strydom
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Lord, You Have Got My Country In Your Hand
I
Lord, you have got my country in your hand,
have broken my whole world that’s around me,
stripped it, the precipice is everywhere
and have also taken my whole career.
Like the apostle Paul I stand in your light,
are blinded, try to get some direction,
but am smitten down upon this old earth
with a kind of pain that cuts right through me
still sight is being revealed to me
and where I pray, fall humble at your feet
you know everything, keep protecting me
as the great ruler of the universe.
Sometimes it feels like a life sentence,
but now I really know the true meaning.
II
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poem by Gert Strydom
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