Focus on Springs
Eventually the mine closed,
where people worked for months
without a salary, the last of them leave the grounds,
and there’s a strong suspicion
that the new black owners took the profit into their own pockets,
refining the gold somewhere else outside of the company,
causing the company deliberately to break apart
and it is as if nobody can stop or want to stop this felony.
With stubble on their faces men stand in the streets
guarding cars in the hot sun
and they talk Afrikaans, it’s as if the blood clots in their veins
while life and all income stops for them,
where some even live in boxes on the street,
trying to find shelter in the open space behind a church.
[Reference: Sonnet – Uit Malvern (Sonnet – From Malvern) by S. J. Pretorius.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
Misfortune Of A Aurora East Rand Mineworker
A 36 year old man works months without payment
at the Aurora East Rand gold mine
under the illusion from the black owners, promising
that salaries are following, but without receiving money.
In January he only receives ten percent of his salary
(which is just eighteen hundred rand)
while the company owns him for eighteen months
and the government does nothing against the black owners
he looks for other employment everywhere
but is not able to find anything else,
he is put out of his house and has to leave it
finding nowhere to go to
things get too much for the poor man,
he looses his cars, his furniture
and almost every thing that he possess,
in his thoughts he is at the edge of the abyss,
he does not know how to put food on the table,
tries to hang himself three times on one night
where his wife stops him just in time
and now she is really scared
that he will try to suicide again.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Wife to Be (Petrarchan Sonnet)
I stroll along a fragrant country lane
With honeysuckle perfume on the air -
And feathered crooner's warble to revere -
Then cross a golden sea of flowing grain
In empathy - it seems to sense my pain
Of knowing all was done with my affair -
Her empty meaning now the solitaire
She cast away - betrothment all in vain.
But oceans team with many fish to catch
So I must up and hoist another sail
And seek the one that really waits for me,
For soon auspicious breezes will prevail
In guiding forth to find a truer match:
The one to take my hand as wife to be.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Sonnet: My Poetic Evolution
From simple Rhymes that Kinder-gardens teach,
And little songs that children love to sing,
I worked my way, up to what Poets reach,
And tried to soar the Skies with my own Wing!
And then I came to know what metre was;
And Rhythm melody of words and sounds;
And soon I was some kind of Poetic-Boss;
And tried my skill of words in newer grounds!
The old was gold but people wanted new;
I had to write 'free verses' now and then;
My Sonnets sprung with speed and divine hue;
My Wings were strong enough to reach Heaven!
Believe-it-or-not, I'm World's Sonnet-King!
Each Sonnet was just a ten- minute thing!
poem by John Celes
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Malvern Hill
Ye elms that wave on Malvern Hill
In prime of morn and May,
Recall ye how McClellan's men
Here stood at bay?
While deep within yon forest dim
Our rigid comrades lay -
Some with the cartridge in their mouth,
Others with fixed arms lifted South -
Invoking so
The cypress glades? Ah wilds of woe!
The spires of Richmond, late beheld
Through rifts in musket-haze,
Were closed from view in clouds of dust
On leaf-walled ways,
Where streamed our wagons in caravan;
And the Seven Nights and Days
Of march and fast, retreat and fight,
Pinched our grimed faces to ghastly plight -
Does the elm wood
Recall the haggard beards of blood?
The battle-smoked flag, with stars eclipsed,
We followed (it never fell!) -
In silence husbanded our strength -
Received their yell;
Till on this slope we patient turned
With cannon ordered well;
Reverse we proved was not defeat;
But ah, the sod what thousands meet! -
Does Malvern Wood
Bethink itself, and muse and brood?
We elms of Malvern Hill
Remember every thing;
But sap the twig will fill:
Wag the world how it will,
Leaves must be green in Spring.
poem by Herman Melville
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Bus ride at night
At quarter to five
the driver refuses,
that I get on a bus
in Burnett street
because it is already full.
There are men, woman and children
and we talk various languages
while we wait for the bus
and I see a car guard
dancing in the street
while he does tricks like a clown.
We wait on the next bus
and the afternoon passes
and the bus is very late
and it stays away
and just Putco and North Star busses
stop at other places.
At dusk the bus appears
and it’s got a double deck,
but is also full
and on the top level the roof is so low
that I bump my head
while it draws from the curb.
There’s no place to sit down
before we travel halfway to the city
and there’s a crowd of people around me
and we sit tight against each other
and in the front a child is holding onto a bar
while she licks the window with her tongue
and try to draw spit lines.
The bus braids through cars,
but it takes longer than an hour
to ride two stages
and a woman calls her husband
to pick her up at church square.
In Visagie Street the cars stand in a traffic jam
and it becomes night
while we wait in the traffic
and I embark from the bus
and twist through the pedestrians
and everywhere there are people
that stand in dark corners
and alleyways
and shout at each other in foreign languages.
At Church square I see stars in the sky,
but uncle Paul looks friendly
while the lights
of a few cars passes by
and I see how his men
are protecting him
and there’s nobody else in the street
and I wonder what to do
if the last bus has already left.
I wait at night at a bus stop
and an old black man
comes and stand near me
and we are both glad,
to catch a ride
on the last bus.
The bus is lighted brightly
And it’s comfortable and hot inside
and I see the zoo passing by
just before the bus stops for me
and red lights
disappears in the distance
and the evening wind tugs at my jacket,
but my house is near.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Sonnet
My friend and me
My friend and me
Looking through her red box of memories
Looking through her red box of memories
Faded Im sure
Faded Im sure
But love seems to stick in her veins you know
But love seems to stick in her veins you know
Yes, theres love if you want it
Dont sound like no sonnet, my lord
Yes, theres love if you want it
Yes, theres love if you want it
Dont sound like no sonnet, my lord
Dont sound like no sonnet, my lord
Yes, theres love if you want it
My lord
Dont sound like no sonnet, my lord
My lord
Why cant you see
That nature has its way of warning me
Eyes open wide
Why cant you see
Looking at the heavens with a tear in my eye
That nature has its way of warning me
Eyes open wide
Yes, theres love if you want it
Looking at the heavens with a tear in my eye
Dont sound like no sonnet, my lord
Yes, theres love if you want it
Dont sound like no sonnet, my lord
Yes, theres love if you want it
My lord
Dont sound like no sonnet, my lord
Yes, theres love if you want it
Sinking faster than a boat without a hull
Dont sound like no sonnet, my lord
My lord
My lord
Dreaming about the day when I can see you there
My side
By my side
Sinking faster than a boat without a hull
My lord
Here we go again and my head is gone, my lord
Dreaming about the day when I can see you there
I stop to say hello
My side
cause I think you should know, by now
By my side
By now
By now
By now
Here we go again and my head is gone, my lord
By now
I stop to say hello
By now
cause I think you should know, by now
Oh, by now
By now
Oh, by now
By now
Oh, by now
By now
Oh, by now
By now
By now
Oh, by now
Oh, by now
Oh, by now
Oh, by now
song performed by by Verve
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stop Your Peeping Through Those Keyholes
Stop that peeping through those keyholes.
Open the windows and doors you've closed.
And take advantage of the time,
Bestowed upon you...
To stretch your mind.
Do this...
And you are certain to grow.
Stop your peeping through those keyholes.
Get fresh air and let yourself be exposed.
To all that is offered,
Beyond suspicions you guess..
And from rumors heard with gossip proposed.
Follow you must...
Each rising Sun.
From dawn 'til noon...
Until the dusk of twilight,
Invites nightfall that comes.
Stop that peeping through those keyholes.
Don't welcome your troubles,
To undo a happiness...
To chase away on the run.
Stop that peeping just to peek.
Stop that peeping just to peek.
Stop your peeping through those keyholes.
Stop that...
Peepng through those keyholes.
Open your windows and doors shut closed.
Stop that...
Peepng through those keyholes.
And take advantage of a life unlived.
One you have yet to accept.
Or come to know.
Stop your peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life to live to be bold.
Stop your,
Peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life to live that is proudly told.
Stop that peeping just to peek.
Stop that peeping just to peek.
Stop that peeping before you're too old.
Stop that,
Peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life to live to be bold.
Stop your,
Peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life to live that is proudly told.
Live a life to live that is proudly told.
And live a life before you're too old.
Stop that,
Peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life to live to be bold.
Stop your,
Peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life to live that is proudly told.
Live a life to live that is proudly told.
And live a life before you're too old.
Stop your,
Peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life before you're too old.
Stop your,
Peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life before you're too old.
Stop your,
Peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life before you're too old.
Live life before you're too old.
Stop your peeping through those keyholes.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Black Man
Ive seen so many thing about racism on the T.V and in the newspaper, I thought I would write about it. This is the poem that flowed so freely from my hands
I walk down the street
There is no one I can meet
For I am not wanted
Like a cat in your flowers
A mosquito on you
People wish I wasn’t here
And yet I will never leave
I am, the black man.
I respect all
Even those who hate me
I wouldn’t hurt a person
And yet they want to hurt me
I stand out in a crowd
No one wants to walk beside me
I am, the black man
I can’t sit at the front of the bus
I must walk by
But every time I do
I get kicked by many shoes
So I decided to stop
Stand up for me
Live for my people.
For I am, the black man.
I refuse to listen to them
I get attack relentlessly
I still don’t listen
I shall never give up
Never fall in
For I am, the black man
I get taken away
But my spirit and soul stay
They will continue to fight
Continue to disobey
I won’t stop until we are free
To live life fully
For I am, the black man
poem by Dillon Crawford
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Can't Stop Loving You
I watch the leaves falling to the ground
I'm walking up and down
The streets of my hometown
You're here with me like it used to be
I look around and then I'm on my own again
Can't stop loving you
Can't stop wanting you
Can't stop now that you
Made me part of you
I've heard some people say
I'm dreaming my life away
But what else can I do
Can't stop loving you
Your face I see in my memory
I close my eyes and then
I start to live again
You're holding me like it used to be
I open my eyes and then
I'm on my own again
Can't stop loving you
Can't stop wanting you
Can't stop now that you
Made me part of you
I've heard some people say
I'm dreaming my life away
But what else can I do
Can't stop loving you
Can't stop loving you
Can't stop wanting you
Can't stop feeling blue
Can't stop loving you
I can't stop loving you
Oh I can't I can't I can't.......
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Friday morning five o' clock
Lost my job
Recently when my company
Took right sizing measures
To meet the global economic challenge
I am a carpenter
By profession
And all these years
I have been shaping
And sizing woods
To meet the requirements
Of company furniture
A good number of
My colleagues
Were relieved of
Company’s services
With three months’ salary
And it took care of
My family comprising
My wife and ten year old son
For almost six months now
Thank God
Thanksgiving day
Neared and I got the job
As a well-wisher in
One mart,
Which claims itself smart
I joined them a month back
And I earned my first fortnight wages
Which made me feel
That not everything is over
I too have a life ahead
Came the thanksgiving day,
Which falls on a Thursday
And on the Friday morning next
Our mart is offering
Attractive super offers
I was to take care of an entrance of the mart
As there will be a crowd waiting outside
To rush in and avail the best offers
As some of them are very limited
Friday morning five ‘o clock
I pulled shutters up
And there came in a flood of people
Most of them out of control
Someone knocked me so harsh
I stumbled and fell down
Crowd did not stop
Minding not the fallen me
And many stamping me
It took no time for me
To realise that I was
In a stampede
Soon I was attended
By doctors
And I could hear them
Telling that I am a gone case
I was wondering whether
In the name of financial wisdom
People are becoming
Economically mad
My store mart
Has its slogan as
“Save Dollars, Live Better”
It would be right
If it reads
“Save Dollars, Live Better –
Even if it means killing our staff”
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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There are people
There are people
that claims the street as their own
and stand
at parking places on the sidewalk
and do no work
but to look after cars.
If you park there
and ignore them
and do not
want to use their services
you immediately
become a racist in their eyes
and they will make a scene,
threaten to damage your car,
or make sure that it’s stolen
or so they tell you
since they believe
that you owe them something.
Some spray soapy water
without invitation
on the front window
of your car
when you stop
at a traffic light
and wipe it off
demanding a price.
I wonder why the education
is still lacking
since they have already
got their liberation
and just as odd
these people are ignored
by their compatriots in government
as if they do not exist,
while the country
falls slowly
but surely to pieces.
There are people
that claims the possessions
of others as their own
and at night
prowl around in the streets
shooting, stabbing
and robbing
and estranging people
from their cars.
l’Envoi
Still I wonder where
the problem lies
and would really like
both of my cars back
and I do not know
about white people
that sneak around
in black neighbourhoods at night,
hijack cars,
brake windows
and demand possessions
with loaded guns.
All that they do,
is try to make a living
or hurry away in their leaving.
{Reference: “First liberation, then education.” Political slogan of the ruling party.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Precious Box
In my house there's a circle, where the life comes in
From the stars to my home, down through the stone,
I could have been so alone,
Without my precious box
Have I a family? I guess not
I've never seen a lot of beauty
In my life.
Well in your house there are servants, and the lights all dim
Such a beautiful home, your agent's on the phone, they never
leave you alone
The party never stops!
You say that's fantasy, I say So what, I need a little beauty
So let me in,
You know you've kind of got under my skin
You know we never see a lot of the action round here
My dear
You may want to strip again
And you look so fine in your Gucci suit
And you're making more money than your daddy
could have imagined
But people can go out of fashion, honey, yeah, any time
So take that picture, stop acting so dumb
Don't you know that the moment will come
I will find someone like you
But with something extra, I'm sorry baby
I don't know why
I don't know why that is
The systematic breakdown of my community
You know I hate my job, I try to save but God
There's just never enough
Switch on, the pressure - stops
You know the one for me, she's on Fox
And she's a little beauty
Give me your life, give me your life, I want it
Because lately, it's so freezing out here
(This side of the glass, life keeps kicking my ass)
In so many ways, but you make it good
Made me the kind of happy that my baby never could
(This side of the glass)
So take that picture, stop acting so dumb
Don't you know that the moment will come
I will find someone like you
But with something extra, I'm so sorry baby
I don't know why
I don't know why that is
Precious keeps me company
Keeps me from being alone
Because no-one comes in the morning
No-one comes in the evening time
I'd sit and wait for the phone to ring
I could be waiting my whole damn life
So sick of the same old faces
In this street, where nobody talks to me
And the funny side of the situation is
I don't care, I'll always be there
When you come down from the sky
And make yourself at home
In my house
Because these days it's the money the money
The money, honey, or your life
I said don't you know you can't have both
Stop acting so dumb
The moment will come
I will find someone like you
Something extra, (always happens baby to me) sorry baby
I don't know why (something)
Said I don't know why that is
You may want to strip again
You may want to let me in
You may want to sacrifice
More than you think is fair or right
You may want to think again
You may want to watch your friends
You may want to change your mind
You may wish you could turn back time.
song performed by by George Michael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Submission (in answer to Don Mattera)
I have seen a white old man and woman
turned onto the street,
living in cardboard boxes
with their small white dog
in the new disastrous improved South Africa,
I have seen white people taking their own lives
when black mine owners robbed them of salaries
and there was no job to get,
no living to be made
and they did this
instead of starting to beg.
I have seen white men and women
with university degrees
leaving the country
in numbers that are more than a million
to find a place to have a life
somewhere else in a foreign country,
I have waited for more than a hour queuing
at a local bank to make a cash deposit,
as a payment to someone
and the way that things are going,
with the black economic empowerment
and people not up to doing a simple job,
soon all of private industry
will be falling apart
as the government departments are doing.
I have noticed friends and family members
who were robbed, hijacked in their vehicles,
raped, tortured and killed
while the South African Police
did their very best to make a arrest
and like in all other things
are not up to it.
I know people who live in despair,
who are totally without hope
while the country’s borders
are flung wide open
to the rest of Africa
to first have a chance at a job
and their degrees and experience
in the face of this means nothing
but not one does bend
under the black heel to submission,
at the mercy of God
their lives go on…
[Reference: “Submission” by Don Mattera.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Almost Lost My Friend (Shakespearian Sonnet)
I’m having a much better day
Thought I’d never see my friend
Feeling much better, yay!
Despair brought when I thought this would end
Times are starting to become fun
They are better now
Feeling as bright as the sun
How bad I’ve felt, wow
I find it funny this is a rhyme
Can’t believe I just wrote a sonnet
The words are becoming to chime
The points this poem will earn for profit
The end of my piece
And now, my sonnet shall decease
poem by Mason Ream
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We Think Life Stops
life stops
like the way we hold each other's
hands at dawn
and then we simply feel nothing
like the way i put my right leg on top of your
thighs and
you say nothing
life stops when we think there is nothing
significant about ourselves anymore
there is nothing
in your belly and there is nothing
in my veins
we think life stops
like the way we keep on going
because we cannot stop to keep on
moving
we think
life stopped
but actually life never stops
even when we think it stopped moving
even when we
actually stop loving
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Stop Stop Stop
(clarke - hicks - nash)
See the girl with cymbals on her fingers
Entering through the door
Ruby glistening from her navel
Shimmering around the floor
Bells on feet go ting-a ling-a linging
Going through my head
Sweat is falling just-a like-a tear drops
Running from her head
Now shes dancing, going through the movements
Swaying to and fro
Body moving, bringing back a memory
Thoughts of long ago
Blood is rushing, temperature is rising
Sweating from my brow
Like a snake, her body fascinates me
I cant look away now
Stop, stop, stop all the dancing
Give me time to breathe
Stop, stop, stop all the dancing
Or Ill have to leave
Now shes moving all around the tables
Luring all in sight
But I know that she cannot see me
Hidden by the light
Closer, closer, she is getting nearer
Soon shell be in reach
As I enter into a spotlight
She stands lost for speech
Stop, stop, stop all the dancing
Give me time to breathe
Stop, stop, stop all the dancing
Or Ill have to leave
Break
Stop, stop, stop all the dancing
Give me time to breathe
Stop, stop, stop all the dancing
Or Ill have to leave
Now I hold her, people are staring
Dont know what to think
And we struggle knocking over tables
Spilling all the drinks
Cant they understand that I want her
Happens every week
Heavy hand upon my collar
Throws me in the street
Stop, stop, stop all the dancing
Give me time to breathe
Stop, stop, stop all the dancing
Or Ill have to leave
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Flanders
I'm homesick for my hills again -
My hills again!
To see above the Severn plain,
Unscabbarded against the sky,
The blue high blade of Cotswold lie;
The giant clouds go royally
By jagged Malvern with a train
Of shadows. Where the land is low
Like a huge imprisoning O
I hear a heart that's sound and high,
I hear the heart within me cry:
'I'm homesick for my hills again -
My hills again!
Cotswold or Malvern, sun or rain!
My hills again!'
poem by Frederick William Harvey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poet And The Baby
How's a man to write a sonnet, can you tell,--
How's he going to weave the dim, poetic spell,--
When a-toddling on the floor
Is the muse he must adore,
And this muse he loves, not wisely, but too well?
Now, to write a sonnet, every one allows,
One must always be as quiet as a mouse;
But to write one seems to me
Quite superfluous to be,
When you 've got a little sonnet in the house.
Just a dainty little poem, true and fine,
That is full of love and life in every line,
Earnest, delicate, and sweet,
Altogether so complete
That I wonder what's the use of writing mine.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My loves sonnet
My loves sonnet
~
My love is an unwritten sonnet
an ode to the greatest beauty
which sparks the soul into a song
and the heart a merry dance
which brings to life many a dream
such joy I now find in me
happy my soul thanks to love
that the world should hear
and share in such sweetness
the rich melody of this sonnet
still remains unwritten
but this love, such love
inspires all creation to thought
how can such beauty
be captured in words alone
to eternity I look and beyond
to read my unwritten love
is to live and watch over it
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Could Be Your Hero
I could be your hero,
I could protect you from the dark,
Save you from the hurricane,
Keep your heart safe,
And mend your scars,
I won't let anyone break your heart,
Won't let anyone torture your soul,
Would you run if i told you too?
Would you never look back?
I could take away your pain,
I could save your soul tonight,
I could protect your heart forever,
Put my shield of love around your heart,
Stop people from being able to get in and break it,
Stop people from scarring it,
I could be your hero tonight,
Stop all of your heartbreak and pain,
Stop the black hole that's sucking up your heart,
That's causing all this pain inside of you,
I could be your hero,
Stop the darkness,
Give you some light in your life,
Stop the darkness inside,
Help it to escape,
Escape from your soul,
So that you can can become full of light,
I could be your hero,
But hero's only happen in fairytales,
And life isn't a fairytale,
Life is a rollercoaster,
Life is pain, hurt and hatred,
life is crying over someone,
Pleading for your Dad to stay,
Pleading your Mum,
Telling her that life is worth it,
Not to end her life.
poem by Charlie Bones
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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