Ghosts Of All The Past Mornings (Elfin Stanza Sonnet)
This day brings very sweet tranquillity
ghosts of other days, of some past morning
are present during this bright day in spring,
outside there is a kind of dignity
insects are buzzing up and down, are free
some are fluttering on a fragile wing,
you are dressed exceedingly lovely
while thousands of small birds do outside sing,
but this sunshine envelops everything
there is happiness in all that I see,
I have lived in times of real fighting
and have survived while you did love me,
our lives at times have been quite exciting
and every single day I see your beauty.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Dirge For Minette
I
Silently, silently the new morning awakes
and your hands are crossed over your breast
while you go to the eternal rest,
and deeply, deeply my heart aches.
II
Colourful new flowers are flowering,
with insects buzzing, birds with songs to sing
while I miss you
during this early spring.
III
Blue as your eyes the sky
is stretching, open and clear
while in it multitudes of birds fly
and I wish that you were here.
IV
Far too fleetingly you were with me
and this remains the earthly thing,
where no one is free
from death and the way that it stings.
V
In the early morning breeze at you grave
my words are fluttering here and there, fluttering
while in sorrow they rave
and even the willows are crying.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Spring Did Begin (Rondelet)
Spring did begin
with lovely flowers blossoming,
spring did begin
with cheerful insects rushing in
with small butterflies fluttering
with joyful lovely birds that sing,
spring did begin.
poem by Gert Strydom
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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.
II
Flowers are as fragrant as your breath
and outside the sun does shine
where flowers and insects ephemeral awaits death
living just as small specs of the will divine.
There are tales about flowers and butterflies that you tell,
about all the minute things, before the first shadows fall
but you have to mention the Creator as well
who fathered everything, created all.
His gardens fill the earth in sheer exuberance
while in summer and spring, in daylight hours
bees, butterflies and birds dance
around the fragrant flowers
in their winged flight,
from early twilight.
III
From early twilight
you are everywhere sent
until the dark night
for the whole world’s enjoyment
and flowering fair
you dance along
without a moment to spare
singing a cheerful song
as a seasonal creature being sweet,
dressed very serene
dancing with fairly like feet
as the essence of the productive machine
and nature everywhere tells,
spring is awaking in smells.
IV
Spring is awaking in smells
with birds singing
rising from the valleys and dells,
sounding in joy about the beauty she is bringing
even every bird, deer and bee,
as the blessings have come
as a time of tranquillity to some
until all of nature is happy and free
when love is finally finding its home
and spring is especially dear to me,
in the air above there’s a vibrant hue
as if it’s a living kind of blue
specked with flocks of birds in their flight;
spring is dressed in white.
V
Spring is dressed in white,
dressed for her wedding day,
when she blesses wherever her flowers stray
in celebration in every day and night
while she dances from early morning light
inviting all her guests, the birds and bees to play,
while she lingers everything is gay
in colours jubilant and bright
with butterflies filling the air,
humming yellow and black bees,
even joined by flying birds that in joy sing
roaming among the almond, peach and pear,
flying to and fro from the blue gum trees
in the unfolding of spring.
VI
In the unfolding of spring
it came to my mind
the words, the deeds and every thing,
of the troublesome kind
that man does to his fellow human beings
as if he is inclined
to act only to his own interest without any feelings,
as if so designed
but around me the new awakenings
are totally unrestrained
in days and evenings
with beauty that is gained
while everywhere flowers are rising,
I long for an eternal spring’s blessing.
VII
I long for an eternal spring’s blessing
as if the Godly plan
in a place where everything is living,
is still in effect for man,
where the songs of birds through the hubbub ring
as if the singing birds are right here
bringing pleasure to everything
making existing so sweet and sincere,
as if from the very beginning
the Lord God was near,
even before human beings were sinning
when these joyous songs fall on the ear:
.
with all of the love that God is granting,
just after winter you are back enchanting.
poem by Gert Strydom
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When You Tell Me How Much You Do Love Me
How many days I saw your subtle grace
the lingering smile on your lovely face,
there is a kind of sweet innocence
but also charm and a confidence
and you bring an inner tranquillity
when you tell me how much you do love me.
Sometimes beautiful the day does begin
while loving you closely feels like a sin,
but our intense feelings we cannot ignore
while life changes from what it was before
and you bring an inner tranquillity
when you tell me how much you do love me.
The moment is eternal with each kiss
while we are caught in ecstasy, sheer bliss
and not the future or even times past
has significance while the feelings last
and you bring an inner tranquillity
when you tell me how much you do love me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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My Peggy Mitchell (Chant Royal)
Her smile seems so serene and sweet as if it’s everlasting
while she is still basking in rays of sunshine
although storm clouds are gathering,
and her beauty is something of the divine
and almost careless
our loving comes in swiftness
while she is drawing attention,
telling me things that no other woman will even mention
but she has an own dignity
are spirited to my apprehension
and from all cares she seems free.
In her humanity there is something
that does not meet the eye, something sublimely fine
and far too easily she makes my heart sing
when every smile of hers is mine
and I see a kind of kindness
shining through her loveliness
a kind of deep emotion
bringing a deepness to every affection,
it is far more than beauty that I see
in her solitary devotion
and from all cares she seems free.
Her joy is far greater than that of spring
and on her face every lovely line
is aflame when passion is rising
and it seems that to her spirit there is no decline
for she’s a summer girl without any meekness
and it seems that her glance does truly bless
but of this she does not have the slightest notion
while her looks at times causes a small commotion,
her laughter and joy is not full of glee
and I write this to a girl that loved me as a salutation
and from all cares she seems free.
Sometimes she dresses somewhat daring
and with her I want to dine,
when from all troubles she makes me uncaring
with burning candles and sparkling glasses of red wine
but to her sometimes our loving turns into nothingness
in pain she is tormenting me even when we are in bliss,
sometimes she is truly unruly at the slightest instigation,
with her words finding accusation after accusation
and I wonder if her loving is just charity,
if she has a unruly disposition
and from all cares she seems free.
She once carried my ring
and that happiness I cannot define
as she was full of joy at our wedding
and in joy her face did shine
without any aloofness
and I from my old ways did digress,
followed every recommendation
to make our relationship work, even in presumption
loving her in all sincerity
but maybe her truly loving me was a big assumption
and from all cares she seems free.
l’Envoi
Now she is driving me to anarchy and lawlessness
while I long for her sweet caress
and I sometimes receive an admonition
to my affectionate attention, to the words that I mention
while I am longing for sweet tranquillity
and I am searching for a loving connection
and from all cares she seems free.
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.
II
We find nature at her prime
with birds singing joyous in the branches,
and we cannot draw ourselves away
of a world intruding into us,
every morning has something glorious
that we only have got to discover
and every time that you look at me
your glance wants to draw me into depths,
the essence of love is caught
in every day hanging around us,
we celebrate our intimate connection
in every wish and urge
that we yearn for in this world;
now your smile falls brightly.
III
Now your smile falls brightly
over the darkness of my life,
shining like a glorious day,
you bring new meaning each day
when your hand folds finely over mine
you look fragile, modestly
and I see the heavenly cobalt blue colour
in the bright gaze in your eyes
your voice is pure in every sound of it,
you are prettier than the most beautiful flower,
when your arms stretch round my neck
with everything coming out of the depth of love
our existence, our summer becomes holy
with an indistinguishable bright light.
IV
With an indistinguishable bright light
in the blinding bright ardour
of Your Godly omnipotence
that breaks right through our wavering courage
we both want to see You in our foolishness
even if days, nights, times has got to shatter
where You keep the world in Your mighty hands
past seasons of summer and winter
but in no thunder or raining stars
we could really see or find You,
in silent illustriousness You come
where every flower and animal serves you out of there own
from past the age old beginning, in the shining light
in the glory of sunshine.
V
In the glory of sunshine
you are in every bright summer day,
in the stars shining at night,
in the sovereign blue sky.
To me you are the most beautiful woman
who can understand me entirely
and there’s a kind of nobility that I see in you,
with comprehension you know where my life is going.
You are given to me in this summer sun,
as if happiness is bounded to this moment,
in the things we wish for and can do
for a whole lifetime’s meaning
when nature splashes down in moments;
the smell of your hair is like sweet grass.
VI
The smell of your hair is like sweet grass
baking in the summer sun
or ripe red peaches on a branch
that is washed clean in the drizzle
and the way that you reach for me
is like the brittle fluttering
of the wind singing through the trees,
is caressing like sun on glass
and your unknown moving foot
is a butterfly fluttering between flowers,
that only touches here and there in her arrival
before it again in apprehension flies away
with brittle wings banging down;
you are my serenity of the veldt.
VII
You are my serenity of the veldt,
earthly and still noble and pure,
the sweet repeating refrain
that insects and birds keep on mentioning.
You are glittering like an awesome brooch,
with your eyes glistening like the shining stars,
with enchantment that cannot disappear
full of fire but naturally unaffected.
You are the fluttering of the wind
that rustles through the fields of grass,
with the soft touching,
the charm that you find in drops
that sieve down on you, hesitating on your cheeks;
now is the time of our awakening.
poem by Gert Strydom
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To Be Back At Home (Italian Sonnet)
To be back at home
while the lovely spring leads the summer on
when the last traces of the cold winter is gone,
when a brilliant blue is the day's dome
when happily the insects and birds do roam,
when not a single thing is lonesome
to me you are the only one
while the months and years do come
while in a flash the happy times pass
and fruitfulness is everywhere
when love has truly found a dwelling place
while nothing stays just as it was
when times seems to be without a care
then our love is divine, sacred, a Godly grace.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Now That The Year Is Growing Kind Of Old (Envelope Couplet Sestets)
Now that the year is growing kind of old
when the true story of Jesus we are told,
we are living up to a day of giving
while daily we hear joyful birds singing
as when they did that child once behold,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
Now that the year is growing kind of old
our Christian faith we do at times uphold
while to others we bring some happiness
like messengers of God we try to bless,
sing happy songs on each friendly threshold,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
Now that the year is growing kind of old
while some live sheltered in a stronghold
in a world of chaos there is tranquillity,
when in God we find some serenity,
in our own lives we act cheerful and bold,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
Now that the year is growing kind of old
in our lives God’s blessings are manifold,
while merrily bells do jingle and chime,
we tell of loving that goes past all time,
we celebrate Christmas in each household,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Speedwell (Novelinee)
In small bushes brilliant blue wild it grows
and if picked the tiny flowers fall,
in spring it is among the hedgerows
with eyes constantly watching it is small
and in the early red morning new born,
something living tranquil and really free
like a inviting berry on the thorn
it has a kind of serene beauty
is very fragile and somewhat lovely.
poem by Gert Strydom
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My Times
There were many times... and
I lived there...
There were many times, that I could not believe...
That such violence... and such abuse's... ever exisited...
But never-the-less... they were my times...
There were many...many times... And I lived them all
So this is my time of acknowledgement
And yes there were many times...
That, I wished those other times...had never exisited
And there were many times...that experience would whisper
and shout...
That the time would come...that these things would be
witnessed
And so this is one of those times...
I tell my family that I do not enjoy...
The times of these denile arguments...
Nor the time nor the necessity...of this conflict...
That those time's had created...
Yet that was the times...in which I lived...
And that I was raised for...
OH... I do not fight that it existed
Nor do I fight that time...
But today I can honestly say
That those times, awakend with-in me away...
That those times prepared me for a way to resist it...
To change it...
To survive it...
To abandon it...
And so here today I take time...
To ponder... to give thanks...
For such a magnificent gift... a majestic blessing like this...
Could never have been had..
Had I not lived in those times....
So to whom ever read this, to whom ever wants to
Improve with love those moments,
Don't let them pass you by
Love while the sun is radaint
For time and life does draw nigh
We cannot bid sunshine
To lenghten out our days
Nor can we ask age-ing time
To ever stay away
Let love guide your actions
And remember be honest to your heart
And then Love...will always be with you
And then love will allways help im-part
So improve every love moment
In this your family may secure
For love brings happiness
So rich and joys so pure
Let love guide your actions
And remember
Be honest to your heart
For love is always with you
And it stops the tears
Even inside a broken heart................
So I say help that man
Your friends, a sister, a brother..
It matters only what's in your heart...
It matters only the strings of love
Play them on your harp
For love will bind every a broken heart...
poem by Clyde Bryson
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There are times that I am at peace
There are times
that I am at peace, in tranquillity
with the world surrounding me
even with my enemies
who in a godlike way
judged me, stole my life
my job from me
with a certainty of the perfect correctness
of their actions and decisions
without having all the facts, without walking
in my shoes, without judging me on merit.
There are times
when the world seems a friendly place,
where I see great beauty
in the way that the world functions,
in every shrub, every flower and tree.
There are times where I am free
from men who take political decisions
about my future, where I am free from the military
free from the influence, the mangling of men
and then there are times when I know
how much you mean to me,
where the meaning, the sheer beauty
compassion and joy that you bring
floods me like an everlasting spring.
poem by Gert Strydom
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It Is Such A Beautiful Evening
Than Spring it is far more like Summer a summery warmth in the breeze
And sunshine on the old Town and Parkland and sunshine on the bushes and trees
The greeness of Spring all around me such beauty that cannot fail to please
The weather quite warm for September well over the twenty degrees.
Though early Spring few birds are singing in the warm sun of the day
They sing in the cool of the morning or in the twilight's fading gray
The Winter is finally over though Winter weather was far from severe
We may be due for an el nino a warm Spring is looming this year.
The heaths and prickly bushes are covered in their blue, pink and bright yellow flowers
They came to bloom in the late Winter in the cool and invigorating showers
The pardalotes by their nest entrance in a tiny hole in the ground
Wee wren sized birds spotted and pretty where they live small insects abound.
It is such a beautiful evening the swallows they chirp as they fly
And the sun with the warmth of Summer is glowing brightly in the blue sky
And the first brown butterflies of September are flitting in the balmy air
Alone and contented with Nature such moments are precious and rare.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Beauty
Where is all the beauty gone, I’ve looked both high and low
It is so hard to find these days unless you really know
So much war and hate in our land, it’s hidden itself so well
You will find it not skin deep, but the heart so pure it will dwell
Not just on a pretty face, and one groomed so fine
But one who does good deeds, which helps to lead the blind
One who would give his last crumb, or the clothes off his back
And doesn’t want recognition or others to keep track
The pure in heart will feel the pain of his brother
And his pay will be knowing that he helped another
I’ve lived at times in poverty, and at times excess
But the happiest times were when another I could bless
To help your fellow man, brings beauty into ones life
You could makes ones life easier without causing strife
This hating and fighting is just causing all pain
Happiness helping others out is where true beauty will reign!
poem by Donna Nimmo
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Days Are Now Hotter Than They Were Before (Rondel Prime)
Days are now hotter than they were before
with many blooming flowers one can find
while the spring brings out what it has in store
in a time that is gentle, sweet and kind
while glory waits just outside the front door
and happiness is even in the slight wind.
Days are now hotter than they were before
with many blooming flowers one can find
and spring feels as it will last forevermore,
will it brings the most joyful times to mind,
when people in fun do each other adore
as if they can all unhappiness rescind.
Days are now hotter than they were before
with many blooming flowers one can find
poem by Gert Strydom
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My Love Outshines The Summer Sun (Sonnet Corona)
(after William Shakespeare)
I
My love outshines the summer sun,
even stars in their remote twinkling light
and her eyes are more beautiful, each one
than the stars glimmering at night
Her cheeks is dimpled cute
her hair is an auburn crown,
her cheeks is rosy beyond repute
her hair is sun-shot twisting in a way of their own.
Her lips are more soft and warm
and her spirit is more mild
than a ray of light falling on my arm
or at times more free and wild
than birds where they fly,
my love is like the radiant sapphire sky.
II
My love is like the radiant sapphire sky
like the breeze rustling through trees
so lovely on my eye,
eager to please.
My love is like the summer sun,
like the blue hued sea
always warm and full of fun,
touching me gently
even when the darkness calls
and when time goes to its finality
like a star her light still falls,
my love stays true to me
in every thing her face I see
so gentle, sweet and free.
III
So gentle, sweet and free
my love lives her life
but I long for her to be near to me
in a world without any strive.
Like a lily prospering alone in the marsh
blooming pure and serene,
my darling lives unknown to a world harsh
out of control, away from the limelight scene
and in that rural place
her beauty is untouched by makeup,
filled with a sweet grace
and even in the morning when she wakes up
the sun is in her hair,
my darling is really fair.
IV
My darling is really fair
there are stars in her eyes,
she’s the most beautiful flower found anywhere,
her eyes are much more pure than the bluest skies.
When she smiles at me,
smiling tenderly,
I in her smile blessings see
as if love is there in all of its glory.
Still more so the bliss
that is caught in her kiss
that comes from the divine
which she is making mine
and sometimes the beauty makes her cry,
when the day flutters by.
V
When the day flutters by
with the sun setting red
you will find my love and I
where stars come out from bed,
then like a butterfly
the sun kisses the night,
touches the dark low and high
before it goes by with its last light
and she unloosens my tie
while we watch the full yellow moon,
while the fire in her eyes lie
sparkling, much brighter than the sunny afternoon,
but with a passing bat flying low she catches a fright,
while the stars are shining bright.
VII
While the stars are shining bright
like jewels in the sky’s crown
on a winter night
it has tranquillity, a beauty of its own,
her eyes are radiant,
as if aflame
lovely and brilliant
and of some she know the name
and something indiscernibly small
creeps into the very soul, into the heart
and of it that is all,
a smouldering, something with which we cannot part:
to me she remains the only one in joy and fun,
my love outshines the summer sun.
poem by Gert Strydom
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My Words Of Wisdom For Those Of Loss
if loss is for times of grief and tears
then smiles are for times of happiness
but why not smile for sadness and happiness
for you know that once you have past it is nothing but happiness
and it should be for the ones of remembrance as well
the ones left behind here with others just beginning there lives get to keep the memories of the days when you were still around
poem by Lily Montes
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Fickle Fingers Of Fate
The fickle fingers of fate befalls us
everyday of our lives.
Sometimes it brings us happiness,
other times it brings us misery.
Sometimes it brings us love,
other times it breaks our heart.
The fickle fingers of fate befalls us
in everything we do.
Our actions are governed
by its fickle fingers
day and night
in what we do and say.
Its waywardness leads us
down roads we should not go
or to mountains too high to climb.
It can lead us to valleys
where tranquillity lay
and to lives peaceful.
The fickle fingers of fate
will lead us as it may,
making up decisions right or wrong.
We are its puppet on a string
as the fickle fingers of fate controls
our destiny come what may.
30 August 2009
poem by David Harris
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So Good To Be Alive
A thing of beauty for all to behold
The capeweed in their lovely flowers of gold
And yellow blossoms covering the broom
It is a day of sunshine and of bloom,
Nesting birds chirp and sing on bush and tree
In the park of the old town by the sea
The chorus of the sweet voice of the Spring
And Nature's beauty an amazing thing
As beautiful as she has ever been
Mother Nature she looks stunning in her green
A high today of 22 degrees
And warmth in the sunshine and the breeze
Near prime of Spring and Summer on the way
And so good to be alive on such a day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I See You Move With The Agility Of A Deer
I see you move with the agility of a deer,
your dark brown eyes glow luminous,
you black hair is braided into many strands
and there is something fragile petite about you.
Although mature, maybe you are too young for me
but there is a kind of attraction that really catches,
when the pool of your eyes reflects my face,
something pure and great and lovely to you.
Somehow you stun me, stop me in my tracks
like a black butterfly with magical bright specks,
I continually see you fluttering on a fragile wing
and know how easily I could fall in love with you.
poem by Gert Strydom
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About Flowers And Trees
I
Why did the chrysanthemum wait long
to open it's quivering twisted rays?
When other flowers are gone it grows strong
in these much more colder wintry days
with cups making blossoms like anemones
some seen as feathery, plumed, or spidery
growing big or smaller in shaded tones,
in the winter portraying nature's imagery
in bronze, brown, purple, red, pink and white
with a single or semi-double blossom
growing to man's and the Creator's delight
when ripe makes growing very unwholesome.
Why was it not sprouting, rising, growing
at the beginning of the lovely spring?
II
At the beginning of the lovely spring
in the veldt among big acacia trees
when the first drops of rain are visiting,
drawing new life, flowers and buzzing bees
I find the bulbous hyacinth flowering,
and its appearance, its fragrance
is almost totally overpowering
when it makes its sudden appearance
with pale-blue petals of strings all opening
smelling like a tiny perfumery,
with bell shaped small cups that are hanging
bright among the green and brown scenery
displaying the joys of living and life,
many times have I counted groups of five.
III
Many times have I counted groups of five,
in things making the way that nature is
and have seen five eggs coming to live,
five leaves on flowers with five small bees.
Even on some trees that number is right
but strangely sometimes it might be wrong
and while in nature I walk along,
I see different flowers in a throng,
hear various birds singing their beautiful song,
there's something in all flowers, in each tree
that tells something about its makers will
who makes all things how they are to be
I have seen even five bundles to a sheaf;
the trees are butting in flower and leaf.
IV
The trees are butting in flower and leaf
as if some kind of magic word was said,
in rejoicing without any small grief,
the growing long green stems upwards do spread
as if new life has come to them again
like from scratch they are programmed to do,
after receiving power from summer rain
but like humans sometimes they do die too
carrying more bountiful each summer day
to the custom of their kind and their breed
till the summer suddenly dwindles away,
again they are stripped as if in need
and I like the fragrant fresh smell the best,
while walking through a huge pine forest.
V
While walking through a huge pine forest
a gentle wind like a friend greeted me
and for lingering long moments I did rest,
feeling from the whole big world somewhat free
and it was filled with the catching smell
of pine trees and soft in its embrace
for many moments long did I there dwell,
by songs of twittering birds amazed
and I then longed forever to be
among the flying birds, the buzzing bees
and the soft shadows, the tranquillity
of the peaked mountain, the large trees,
but sometimes lightning falls in a blue-white spark,
when the stormy wind blows strong in the dark.
VI
When the stormy wind blows strong in the dark
and the dark black evening suddenly glows
and the wind whispers with a howling bark
among the waving, rocking trees and throws
branches breaking, snapping, twisting, tearing;
you can hear that great savage strange beast
walking about, awoke from slumber stirring
during winter in the forest, in the east
suddenly coming to its greatest strength
somewhere in the thick enveloping fog
as the long night draws out darker at length
while its breaking, mauling log upon log,
from this windy monster I want to be free,
let me find some peace and tranquillity.
VII
Let me find some peace and tranquillity
at some places where man have never trod,
experience the greatest kind of beauty
that still is spared from the iron rod
with which man rules cities, huge countries
let me see miracles, see nature's joys,
away form buildings and big industries,
far away from the scorn, the manmade noise.
Let me smell some sweet wild flowers and lie
on wild grass to find nature's peace and rest
under a clear blue unpolluted sky,
away from even them whom I love best
and I wonder before the winter comes along,
why did the chrysanthemum wait long?
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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