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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I Want To Go Back To The Veldt Again (Rondel Prime)
I want to go back to the veldt again
to watch nature to see little things,
to hear how pretty small red weavers sing,
to on my skin feel the summer’s cool rain
to live with harmony without some pain,
to get of God a clear understanding.
I want to go back to the veldt again
to watch nature to see little things,
and away from the city to remain,
to see flowers rise in the months of spring
opening and life slowly awakening,
I want to go back to the veldt again
to watch nature to see little things.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Where the baobab tree finger points
Where the baobab tree finger points,
the bush veldt sun fries you to tatters,
some camel thorn trees hook and pierce,
jackals and hyenas cry and laugh at night,
the moon rises yellow, with stars appearing
all over the sky shining like jewels,
it’s as God himself is walking around in the veldt.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Deep
blank stare
disrepair
there's a big black hole gonna eat me up someday
(but) someday
fades away
like a memory - or a place that you'd rather be
some place
lost in space
an itch in my head that's telling me somewhere
somewhere
out there anywhere I don't care get me out of here
if I could feel
all the pins and the pricks
if you were real
I could take what's apart and put it all back together now
this will come true
help me get through
into you
deep deep deep deep deep deep deep deep
all I can do
driving me through
into you
deep deep deep deep deep deep deep deep
one track
got you on your back
your skin speaks up but you lips couldn't say it
right now I know somehow
we could take the chance and we could make it make it
right here make it all disappear
everything that we've been missing missing
you make me feel
like there's a part of me
that I want to get back again
make this come true
help me get through
into you
deep deep deep deep deep deep deep deep
all I can do
pushing it through
into you
deep deep deep deep deep deep deep deep
all I can do
driving on through
into you
deep deep deep deep deep deep deep deep
you're slipping through
I'm coming, too
into you
deep deep deep deep deep deep deep deep
we could become
two into one
leave this behind
over and done
everything new
I'm getting through
into you
song performed by by Nine Inch Nails
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the veldt a spitting cobra is suddenly onto me
In the veldt a spitting cobra is suddenly onto me
and before it can strike or spray poison
there’s a rock that comes to hand
and I smash the head of the spitting snake
but where it lies toppled jerking
the grass, bushes and veldt trembles
there’s a curse that it says with its last breath
as if the dying of it mentions something unheard.
The vast earth grind and boil
as if rock banks gnash on each other
when the leviathan with its smoking breath
bursts from the depths
where suddenly sinister it peers at me
and seven snakeheads spit fire.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Deep
Every time I hear the sound of the rain
Beating on my roof again
I want to taste your love
And I want to go deep
Deep
I want to go deep
Deep
I want to go deep
Every time I lift my eyes to the sky
Something in my heart asks why
I want to know the truth
And I want to go deep
Deep
I want to go deep
Like the footprints
Disappearing from the sand
I try to catch the thought
It slips right through my hand
And as the darkness
Throws its cloak upon the ground
I start to run to you
Ive got to take you down
I want to go deep
Deep
I want to go deep
Deep
I want to go deep
Every time I feel Im loosing my way
The power of your love remains
I want to touch your love
An I want to go deep
Deep
I want to go deep
Deep
I want to go deep
Deep
I want to go deep
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A hunting expedition
Far off in the bush veldt near to Marken,
where the red sand lies like sea sand,
a young hunter on a day
takes a old.303 rifle with open sights
and walks following a tracker,
that they call a guide,
past green thorn trees
with long white camel-thorns
to where a impala
is standing against a hillock
and he aims for a headshot
and I say to him: “shoot for the shoulder-blade”
but he doesn’t listen
and when the shot resounds
the antelope lowers its head
and the bullet whistles away from a rock plate
with the antelope
running away in a red brown stripe
disappearing into the bushes
and the bush veldt sun
burns without mercy down on us.
poem by Gert Strydom
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It’s quiet, very quiet in the veldt
It’s quiet, very quiet in the veldt
even the crickets and grasshoppers
are without sound
and the chopper drones away
leaving me and Johnny
and a few other men
with a Bushmen tracker
to follow a enemy spoor
and suddenly we walk straight in
to a ambush, right into a trap
and Johnny is dead, shot through the head
and three others as well and it feels as if I am in hell
and I am talking to myself
trying to get my bearings while firing at the enemy,
killing some and throwing two grenades
to advice them of my serious intentions
and the enemy shooting stops, as does that
of me and my men and I smell death
and are nauseous to the point of retching
and it’s quiet, very quiet in the veldt
even the crickets and grasshoppers
are without sound.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Wind Blows Rustling Through The Bush
The wind blows rustling through the bush
and only it and God knows where it is going,
when it disappears and nothing move in the veldt
and when it returns some grains of dust are blown away.
An ibises raises gleaming copper into the sky
while God finds some answers for His earth,
and it chatters while big wings slam against the wind,
as it flies high over a small wooded hillock.
Guinea fowl peck along in the red grass,
after the rain some small bulbs are growing,
some lovely flowers astonish the veldt
but still this world is wounded by man.
The wind blows rustling through the bush
and when it returns some grains of dust are blown away.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Root that Planted Deep
Deep
Deep
Don't run too deep
You may not find the way back home
What are you escaped from?
What you try to avoid
Till you hide in the deep deep forest?
Deep
Deep
Don't think too deep
You will drown in your darkest mind
What are you afraid for?
What you try to fight
Till you are losing where's up and down in deep deep ocean?
Deep
Deep
Don't look too deep
You are being allured by those beautiful eyes
What if the thing you called curse is bound you forever?
What if you finally see
The truth that lays behind the deep deep abbys?
Deep
Deep
Don't fall too deep
You will not be able to ignore it anymore
What will you do if it's going stronger?
What will happen to you
When it becomes the root that planted deep?
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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The divine presence (cavatina sequence)
Whispering softly, sometimes indistinct
as vague as sleep
a voice keeps calling, as if it’s drawing
from the dark deep;
in times of happiness and utter gloom,
while people weep
something reaches with invisible arms
with its own sweet silent lingering charms.
In the veldt, in the green grassy meadows
in night and day,
the essence of a kind of divine care
does always stay,
speaks up in the world’s natural beauty,
it is at play
in all the silences of day and night,
in the utter darkness and at first light.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Commandant Gideon Scheepers
They tried to send him to hell,
as if he was one of them,
a traitor, a rebel.
The British killed a captured ill man,
that they came across in the veldt
without decency, or any military law being honoured.
They shot a Boer commandant through the heart
and without a funeral note,
they hurried, to get him buried.
A brave man devoted
to his country, to his God,
whose burial place was not noted.
Turning sod after sod
with spades, they dumped him
in a unmarked grave
in the dead of night
without using light
they threw ground upon his chest,
laid him to rest without any honour
and left him alone
without a marking stone.
[References: The rank of Commandant is equivalent to that of Lieutenant Colonel. The heroic story of Gideon Scheepers during the second Anglo-Boer war, who was captured while being ill in the veldt as a normal combatant, but treated like a rebel and shot by the British, who buried him in a unmarked hole in the ground.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Cloudburst (terzanelle)
The clouds are dark as the night
until the sky opens it sluices
with here and there light
pouring down gathered juices
with wild bolts of blue-white thunder
until the sky opens it sluices
with lightning falling with feelers, ready to plunder
splitting trees, setting the veldt alight
with wild bolts of blue-white thunder
bashing down, and people flee in fright
and hail, thunder and rain pelts down
splitting trees, setting the veldt alight
splattering in fury, causing people to drown
and man and beast is desolate
and hail, thunder and rain pelts down
with people struggling past fear, past hope, past hate.
The clouds are dark as the night
and man and beast is desolate
with here and there light.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Another Kind Of Epitaph
The time I died first, there were days upon days
while you cried, remembering my unique ways.
I rose up and up high above the cemetery wall
while then I could fly and everything beneath looked small,
but back to mother earth I had to go, where I felt the new rain
while very slow, worms on me started to gnaw without any pain.
When my next funeral came, you graciously wanted to put me to sleep
you did not want the general type of burial where they would bury me deep
but to the fire you wanted me to go, to experience the flames of hell
and over the sea, the veldt my ashes you did blow and with tears wished me well.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Deep Blue
When sunshine is not enough
To make me feel bright
Its got me suffering in the darkness
Thats so easy come by on the road-side
Of one loong life-time
Its got me deep blue
You know Im deep blue
When you stand there, watch tired bodies
Full of sickness and pain
To show you just how helpless you really are
When you get down to the truth
It hurts me
Its got me deep blue
You know Im deep blue
When I think of the life Im living
Pray God help me; give me your light
So I can love you and understand
This repetition that keeps me here
Feeling deep blue
Its got me deep blue
You know Im deep blue
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The invasion army
When houses dazzle on all the hillocks,
every swamp is drained
for sport fields,
bulldozers make roads
right through the veldt
and it becomes mines, factories
and office blocks
and sown farms cover the fields
and the bush veldt
disappears into timber mills,
the last trees become burning wood
and furniture
and concrete creeps up into the Karoo
and the clean air disappears
behind industrial fog,
car fumes and poisonous gas
so that the sun shine fades
there will be nowhere
to draw a trench
to ward off the technology
that covers the earth
since the invasion army
are marching in unstoppable
with lorries, bulldozers,
scrapers, graders
and cranes
and every yellow machine
and in only a few glamour books
you will read about warblers, plovers,
jackals, baboons, suricates,
rock rabbits and wild animals
and humans will be like in a zoo
curtailed beyond their own railings
and work and play caged in
while the state watches,
spies and controls them.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Gideon Scheepers (Terzanelle)
To form a cairn, I write these words about a remarkable man,
commandant Gideon Scheepers, executed in gross neglect
who was seen by the British as a rebel and partisan
and they treated him without any decency or respect
when in the veldt they captured an ill man as a prisoner of war.
Commandant Gideon Scheepers, executed in gross neglect
proofed himself at the battle of Magersfontein before
gathering more men, blowing away train tracks,
when in the veldt they captured an ill man as a prisoner of war
who acted against armed blacks
who stopped them from pillaging farms, raping, killing and looting,
gathering more men, blowing away train tracks,
the British executed him, with a firing squad shooting
a brave man, who acted fearless
who stopped them from pillaging farms, raping, killing and looting
and they buried him in an unmarked grave, rather careless.
To form a cairn I write these words about a remarkable man,
a brave man, who acted fearless
who was seen by the British as a rebel and partisan.
[References: The rank of Commandant is equivalent to that of Lieutenant Colonel. The heroic story of Gideon Scheepers during the second Anglo-Boer war, who was captured while being ill in the veldt as a normal combatant, but treated like a rebel and shot by the British, who buried him in a unmarked hole in the ground.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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She Brings Me Love
Sometimes I get a feeling,
Deep in my soul
Sometimes I get a feeling,
I just can't control
Sometimes I get a feeling,
Deep in my heart
It's such a feeling that I know we'll never part
[chorus]
She brings me love, love, I know it's all that I need.
-------------
Sometimes I get a feeling,
deep in my bones
Sometimes I get a feeling,
won't leave me alone
Sometimes I get a feeling,
Deep in......side
It's such a feeling that my love I can't hide
Chorus x 2
song performed by by Bad Company
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Descent
Falling victim from neglect
Designed thoughts and intellect
Forgotten and displaced
The crux of my dismay
I feel nothing
I am nothing
I feel nothing
Nothing
How deep I descend?
Until I reach my end?
How deep I descend?
Deeper into this abyss
Weighted down and sinking fast
Life did not offer me
More than false destiny
I feel nothing
I am nothing
I feel nothing
Nothing
How deep I descend?
Until I reach my end?
How deep I descend?
I am nothing
I feel nothing
I am nothing
I feel nothing
Nothing
Nothing...
How deep I descend?
Until I reach my end?
How deep I descend?
song performed by by Fear Factory from Obsolete
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the veldt while on military patrol (septilla / Spanish septet)
When sleeping in the veldt, the bush
while on military patrol
even if you are in control
out of your boots a snake may rush
and a crocodile you may meet
snapping its jaws at your feet
while toward the river you push.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I am poem
I am rolling in he deep
I wonder when i will stop rolling with everyone else
I hear people saying bad things about me it makes me feel that i should kepp rolling intil i am depp in sorrow
I see everyone still while i am rolling all around
I want to stop rolling in deep sorrow
I am rolling in the deep
I pretend to be like everyone else not rolling in deep regret but still, still as life can be
I feel in deep sorrow rolling in the worst thoughts
I worry about someone finding out about my deepest darkest secrets
I cry when i can not stop rolling in deep sorrow
I am roliing in the deep
I undersyand that one day i will stop rolling in the deep regret
I i say that no one should be rolling in deeo sorrow but still
I dream that i am still that none of those deep thoughts have ever accured
I try to stop the rolling but the rolling is going to the deepest regret the rolling has taken over
I hope one day one minute one moment oone second one hor i willl stop rolling
I an rolling in the deep
poem by Haadia Ansari
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