God the artist
There is greater art in the colour of the sky,
in the canvas with which the night covers herself,
in the sun that rises in time each morning
and daily I am astounded
when flowers and trees put on their cloaks,
even memories sweep me back all the time
to thundershowers that brilliantly burst loose,
to waterfalls that spray their streams,
than what you can find in a human masterpiece
and sometimes man is somewhat blinded
as if he can avoid the God of the universe
but continually His art stays gloriously fresh.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Blue Sky Memories (In Answer To O Ingrid Jonker, For Daleen)
Blue sky memories continually comes to me
of a day under a bright summer sun
as if a part of you stays lingering,
when I love you even more (if I could)
while continually you are snared in my remembering.
Even when times of bad weather want to come
there is an unbreakable bond between us,
while continually I am astounded by our love.
Blue sky memories continually lingers in my thoughts
when I forget all of my previous heartaches,
when continually I am lost in you
and I always know about the depth of our love.
The sparkling sun continuously brings new hope,
when we walk days, months and years together on a road.
poem by Gert Strydom
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All the beings in the universe are astounded
All the beings in the universe are astounded
that the almighty One
comes to earth as a human
and being God and human
are bonded in Him
and there’s a boy crying in clothes.
All the beings in the universe are astounded
that the almighty One
with angels all around
as human alone,
had to pay the price
and a Godly being dies in stead of everybody
and all the beings in the universe are astounded
poem by Gert Strydom
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Sometimes Its As If My Childhood Days Come Back
Sometimes it's as if my childhood days come back
and it's as if the colour and texture catches me
when I am astounded by the sheer beauty of things,
by the smell of flowers hanging in the air,
where I see clouds as flakes,
and it's as if the colour and texture catches me
that is spread over the bright blue in small pieces
that brings me back to another time and place
where I see clouds as flakes,
and I am again full of joy and happiness
and the whole sky is full with specks between the blue and white
that brings me back to another time and place,
to the memories of my childhood days
when I see the summer sun rising golden
and the whole sky is full with specks between the blue and white
and the birds and insects are of the loveliness some proof.
Sometimes it's as if my childhood days come back
when I see the summer sun rising golden,
when I am astounded by the sheer beauty of things.
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
How do you Lord, let the pain be gone,
two animal children I have lost shortly after each other
and when in the mornings I look outside
there are only two left.
How do you tell others that do not really comprehend
of the bond that a person has,
of the love coming from the heart of a animal,
about the moments of unmentioned pleasure
and now that I am without a wife or children
the remaining two still serves me faithfully,
there is a tight bond
and I pray for you to hold your hand over them
and if you want to take them as well;
I am lost on this world.
III
I am lost on this world,
in the unknown world that waits tomorrow on me,
when my strength begins to wane
before the dark night,
but when the new light appears,
the sun still rises in a new day
(when the sun again shines in all of its glory over me)
in the unknown things waiting on me,
my known yesterdays are included
in bright days, that in late afternoons declines,
it is as if everything that came before is included
in memories and even when lightning bolts fall around me
I find your presence continually,
when shadows fall over me.
IV
When shadows fall over me,
when the world almost decadent
roughly falls into my universe
and shadows sometimes permanently
try to sabotage my best efforts
and everything in my will rises up
I feel pushed away, blunted and used;
but still I remember you
from whom all light comes
and are waiting on a new day,
although I am knocked down and am astonished,
although it continually looks to me like night
you never really leave me isolated,
even when in my dreams I scream and wonder.
V
Even when in my dreams I scream and wonder
why every morning folds around me,
almost endlessly without you,
as if live is destroying me,
trying to get me down
without me being able to keep the pain away,
as if no fatherly hand is helping me,
I still stand astonished
when I see the works of God
in small things around me
where its power without bonds
even unfolds in my own writings
I know that He constantly draws me nearer,
even when the scribes gather.
VI
Even when the scribes gathered,
to send me to hell,
they still wanted to draw near to you with a last prayer
on that determined dark hour.
To confirm that they are accomplishing your will,
as if to say, so says the Lord,
they stood in a circle,
that white plastered men.
At that time I was wondering about people,
who have the audacity to put them in your place
if that Sanhedrin
really did carry out your wishes
or are they the whole time walking in darkness,
do they not know what is written on the ground?
VII
Do they not know what is written on the ground?
Lord I thank you for sharpening me in my growth
even when so-called holy people come with a sentence
that interferes with my vocation.
Although sometimes I feel the pain penetrating
as if it’s cutting to the bone,
I know that you only mean things to be well for me,
that you and your angels are continually at my side
but ask that you protect me
against the darkness, the evil
that in hordes gathers around me,
that you do not wait
that you keep me on the right way, even when I go astray;
every night when darkness comes.
poem by Gert Strydom
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When The First Heat Comes
When the first heat comes, the winter starts to disappear
weeds and flowers appear everywhere,
fruit trees are flowering,
when the first signs of spring appears,
with the sun flowering in crimson
you are astounded by the many colours
of flowers dazzling glorious in sunshine,
birds sing before the sun rises,
when the first heat comes,
the last stripped branches has disappeared,
the sky becomes a cobalt blue curtain,
you are astounded
by the insects and birds that are gathering in joy,
are caught in the scent of jasmine,
when the first heat comes.
poem by Gert Strydom
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At Times I Can Loose Myself In Sadness
At times I can loose myself in sadness
although the sun still rises in the morning,
the stars glow in their myriad at night,
the wind rustles in the great oak trees
as you have left me, have gone to another
and I truly did love you and thought that you
had a place for me somewhere in your heart
and in days and nights like this we were together
and there is some kind of detachment in the loss,
as if the world is much more immense without you
as if I will somewhere, somehow again find you
but you are nowhere and days turn into years
and what we had is gone and totally lost
while memories keeps on lingering.
poem by Gert Strydom
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If You Feed It Good
If you feed it good...
It stays fresh.
It stays the best,
One can get!
Yes.
And,
If you feed it good...
It stays fresh.
It stays the best,
One can get!
Yes,
Feed it good...
And it stays fresh.
It stays the best,
One can get!
I'm not gonna mock you anymore,
'Cause you're good to me.
You don't have to knock,
On that unlocked door.
No more...
I'll rock your needs
When we get it heated! .
Now,
If you feed it good...
It stays fresh.
It stays the best,
One can get!
Yes,
Feed it good...
It stays fresh.
It stays the best,
One can get!
Yes,
Just feed it good...
And it stays fresh.
It stays the best,
One can get!
Don't shout or scream,
To be mean and demean.
I'm not your enemy.
Nor do I owe a thing....
To ya!
You can pout with a frown,
Thinking it will bring me down.
To be around...
For your clown count!
To the ground.
But,
If you feed it good...
It stays fresh.
It stays the best,
One can get!
Yes,
Feed it real good...
It stays fresh.
It stays the best,
One can get!
Just,
Feed it good...
And it stays fresh.
It stays the best,
One can get!
Keep that in your head,
And let it feed real good!
Like it should.
Feed it good.
Keep that in your head,
And let it feed real good!
Like it should.
Feed it good.
Yes,
Feed it real good...
It stays fresh.
It stays the best,
One can get!
And,
Keep that in your head,
And let it feed real good!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Empty Canvas
the canvas is juxtaposition
images colour movement time
time shifts in thought shifts
empty mind space canvas
is whatever artist declares
canvas is painted to be
empty canvas is whatever
canvas is painted to be
endless pigment possibilities
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Reflections In A Country Churchyard (Cavatina Sequence)
At the very foot of some green hillocks
covered in
orange flowering aloes and proteas
some rows begin
in a place of tranquillity and rest;
avoid of sin
my father and some saints await the call
of God's clarion gathering large and small.
Some cypress trees are waving in the breeze,
wild doves wander
cooing in the trees, in some rocks a small
salamander
hides from the heat while grass covers the veldt,
no noise slander
through the aeons the rest of forefathers
while that graveyard them together gathers.
Those people had a true great compassion
for fellow men,
were religious zealots but different,
they did know when
to stand back and be selfless in their love,
to find Eden,
daily in sincerity they walked,
of much greater Godly things they talked.
Strange it may seem today but all their time
and wealth was spent
to follow their Godly master's calling;
sacred, decent
were their lives in their love of Him and man,
each small talent
went only to the Lord's eternal cause
for themselves they did not even pause.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Snow
as it pores down from the heavens
it glimmers on the ground
a smile a rises on
my face
a smile that wont leave until it does
as we drive by it my eyes start to
glimmer
like it does when it hits the ground
memories start flowing back
of us spending time together
when we were still
a family
not just people who live together
as it covers the ground
the memories keep flooding back
like a river that has flooded a town
knowing I wont be back
for a long time
a tear rolls down my face
for I know now that I’ll be leaving
my home away from home
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Every Morning When The Day Begins
Every morning when the day begins
the sun rises beautifully red,
but at first I see the twilight
when the sun throws out its first rays gloriously.
Every morning I want to unburden my heart to You,
and I am asking that You make me aware
about the way that my life is going,
to help me make time and place for You in it.
poem by Gert Strydom
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First Blossoms
So unexpectedly the beauty caught me,
the first blossoms suddenly bursting out snow white,
covering the whole almond tree
and a week ago the branches were still stripped,
with the winter wind cutting through it.
Today I feel devoured by the winter wind,
I am tied by my powerlessness, blinded by destiny
and I am wondering when and where
I will find You secretly working in my life?
I find signs that a new summer is on its way,
I am astounded by nature
while the beauty comes suddenly
and for Your Godly working as a human I am stupid,
see in nature spring suddenly coming all around me,
Your flowers blooming in their cups,
everything around me is suddenly clean and fresh
and everything You regard as Your property.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Goat Hill
Goat Hill
Walking out the door that man told me to go to hell
My son asked mommy where’s Goat Hill
I said I don’t know son it must be through the valley
My son said mommy lets go there
Up to goat hill
I bet it’s on top of the mountain
I bet there is waterfalls, birds, trees, pretty flowers for all the butterflies and honey bees
I said son if we could I’m sure we would
Most definitely go up to goat hill
I’m not ever going to take you where that man said to go
That place is an internal melting pot
And its way to hot
There’s no mountains with snow on top
No waterfalls trees birds butterflies or honey bees in the place that man said to go
Son I know you are good
Some day together I believe we will find the place called Goat Hill
You found somewhere in your mind
Where life is gentle and Kind
Everyday and every night all the time
Son I bet up on Goat Hill we will only see Gods will being done by the Father and the Son
poem by E.Marie AldrichCreasy
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There’s a widows heart upon a grave
Each day she goes there and talks to stones
To a silent cross his name upon a tomb
Each day she brings the flowers
Fresh flowers for the memories two
Each days she puts them down
Each day the scent covers up his name
Each day she prays to die to die
Even though she knows it’ll be too soon
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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In the Highveld
(after Toon van den Heever)
I
In the Highveld with the sky cobalt blue and open
where rock rabbits, steenbok and baboons revel,
you see the wind skipping through the long grass
and you can still believe in God and His angels,
the rain gathers with thunder
where through the open spaces you can see far into the veldt,
you are astounded by the beauty of flowering proteas
and you still can realize your dependence
but when the city’s rumbling becomes too much,
the jacarandas start flowering in the streets,
buildings of steel and concrete start to curtail you,
you dream about wild flowers appearing everywhere
and it’s the places of a child that you miss,
in the Highveld where the veldt stretches out into the distance.
II
In the Highveld where the veldt stretches out into the distance
and the wind rollicks through the grass
the sky is pure blue and you can look for hours at it,
there you can find freedom from the city’s imprisonment.
When the wind rustles through the march you loose all sadness,
you see the African red-knobbed coot gathering her chickens,
you can hear the finches’ caper, branches full together,
you see every great small happening,
how wild flowers of every imaginable colour
grow as if planted in secret
(and I will go back if I only could)
where I can find some serenity, can have peace
where I will know about God’s heritage;
there the sun shines.
III
There the sun shines
where proteas and aloes flower wildly,
bright up to the horizon
coming out of the earth by themselves
with violets growing purple-blue right through the marsh,
with daisies stretching white over the veldt,
with long tailed widow birds flapping their wings
and the earth is covered with long green grass.
To this piece of ground I am trapped
even when my days are drawing to their end,
it goes even to my heart’s deepest yearning,
with every plant, bush and flower
as it’s bought with sweat and blood,
nobody can strip it from me.
IV
Nobody can strip it from me,
I have to go back to where the sun hangs golden
in the sapphire heaven, I have got to strip the city from me
(but if I only could)
the big desire stays and out of the town I must go
away from the ambulance and police sirens that cuts through everything,
trains whistling almost endlessly,
I have got to go to where only the frog choir and crickets sing.
Again I have got to get the smell of sugar bushes,
smell the rain, spring, summer and even autumn
I must get away from a world where tinned pleasure seduces,
where people use other people for their own pleasure.
I want to stand in the green fields of grass,
when the day dies.
V
When the day dies
letting its last rays fall,
with the birds flying to their nests
darkness comes to this part of the universe,
the doves at dusk still call to each other
as if their voices bind them in the darkness,
you can see the moon sailing golden-yellow through the sky,
you are sometimes blinded by the bright rays,
the city lights glitter far away
in all the colours of the rainbow,
here you want to bond your life to a loved one,
catching her moments long in your eye
when people come together here,
the madness of the human existence is exorcised.
VI
The madness of the human existence is exorcised
even in later years past your own youth,
when you are in the world that your heart desires,
you want to invite the new spring to stay with you
shaking out that which bothers and torments to the early summer wind,
feeling the effervescence of new life,
blinded by the sun you want to find healing
while the whole of spring washes through your life
with the light, air, the flowers, birds and sun splashing down
as if your autumn is only in your imagination,
you want to wash yourself clean from old age,
you are searching for exorcism from the darkness
there are still flowers sprouting out everywhere,
when the colours of autumn smoulder in the trees.
VII
When the colours of autumn smoulder in the trees
with branches being full of coloured leaves,
the sun is still heating as in summer
before the first biting winds begin to whine.
I see opened pod upon opened pod
that lays brown scorched without any signs of seeds,
the dull blue sky has clouds in milky white,
trees become a wild watermill
that is halfway skeleton, halfway still carrying leaves,
afternoons are still drawn out
and even when days earlier end in winter
it’s a time without equal,
as if the summer can last forever,
in the Highveld with the sky cobalt blue and open.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Always Remember Me
When the trees have gone
and the streams have sang heir last song
Remember me
As the rain falls through the neverending night
and the wolf calls for the gift of dawn
Remember me
When the flowers bloom their heads lift high
and the moon rises like a phantom in the sky
Remember me
When the stars shine bright
and sadness strikes you with all its might
Remember me
When all hope has vanished
and joy has been banished
Remember me
As life takes its last breath
and death plagues the world
Remember me
As love is spirited away
and anger and sadness are to blame
Remember me
When memories are the only path left to walk
and the past becomes the present
Remember me
When the cry of freedom is silenced
and the winds laughter rings no more
Remember me
As lovers meet for the last time
and friends must say goodbye forever
Remember me
As the seas groan with the memories of war
and the willows whisper on the shores of sorrow
Remember me
When the earth is bowed in despair
and dreams lie broken in your heart
Remember me
When eternity is only one day more
and all that was is no more
Always remember
For I'll be with you in your memories
Always watching over you
poem by Holly Morgan
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The Canvas
Oh how she loves her canvas,
The stories that it tells.
Oh how she loves to paint her thoughts,
And etch a perfect spell.
Oh how she loves her canvas,
The memories that it holds.
Oh how she loves to trace the lines,
And tell if new or old.
Oh how she loves her canvas,
Her stability in an unstable world.
Oh how she loves to fret away,
At all of her unfurled.
Oh how she loves her canvas,
A standstill of art and truth.
Oh how she loves the feel of it,
To reminisce her youth.
Oh how she loves her canvas,
A long work of her life.
Oh how she loves the twisted colors,
Splashes of red upon white.
Oh how she loves her canvas,
She crafts each inch with care.
She hides her canvas well away,
Though she often earns a stare.
Do not tell of her canvas,
Keep the secret- she insists.
But perhaps some time take a second glance,
For her canvas is her wrist.
poem by Dayna Mortimore
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One Light: Three Primary Colors
Red is the colour of blood that flows in the body of all creatures given birth
Green is the colour of grass that like a carpet covers a lot of the soil of earth
Blue is the colour of sky that surrounds this world and is of an infinite girth
All three colours come from a Single Source having an Immeasurable worth.
Red is also the colour of danger and a symbol which indicates all to beware
Green is also the colour of the leaves that most of the plants and trees wear
Blue is also the colour of water that covers most of this world which is fair
Three colours are the original blend of all those others found in nature there.
Red is also the colour of anger, passion or pain that is expressed, felt and seen
Green is also the colour of something natural an indication of where it has been
Blue is also the colour of Infinity and the light glowing in a mind which is clean
And all three colours are shades of One Light the essence of all universal sheen.
Of all the three colours I like blue the most as it seems to be uniquely sublime
It speaks to me of loftier and deeper things that were experienced in my prime
It also represents the colour of the biggest phenomena known to man in time
Being a symbol of That in which all exists and from which all began to chime.
------------------------
Note:
There are many other colors but as far as those which form the basis of technology there are only three i.e; as in a R.G.B. monitor and screen projector etc.
poem by George Krokos
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When The Night Comes
Hold on
Ill be back for you
It wont be long
But for now theres something else
Thats calling me
So take me down a lonesome road
Point me east and let me go
That suitcase weighs me down
With memories
I just wanna be the one you run to
I just wanna be the one you come to
I just wanna be there for someone
When the night comes
Lets put all the cares behind us
And go where theyll never find us
I just wanna be there beside you
When the night comes
When the night comes
Two spirits in the night
That can leave before the morning light
When theres nothing left to lose
And nothing left to fear
So meet me on the edge of town
Wont keep you waiting Ill be round
Then you and i
Well just roll right out of here
I just wanna be the one you run to
I just wanna be the one you come to
I just wanna be there for someone
When the night comes
Lets put all the cares behind us
And go where theyll never find us
I just wanna be there beside you
When the night comes
When the night comes
I know therell be a time for you and i
Just take my hand and run away
Think of all the pieces of the shattered dream
Were gonna make it out some day
Well be coming back
Coming back to stay
When the night comes
I wanna be the one you run to
When the night comes
To be the one youd come to
I wanna be the one you run to
Ooh
I just wanna be the one you run to
Wanna be the one you come to
I just wanna be there for someone
When the night comes
Lets put all the cares behind us
And go where theyll never find us
I just wanna be there beside you
When the night comes
When the night comes
Ah ah when the night comes
When the night rolls down
Ah ah when the night comes
I wanna be with you
Ah ah when the night comes
Oh ah when the night comes in
Ah ah oh
Ah ah when the night comes
When the night comes
Ah ah when the night comes
I wanna be right by your side
Ah ah when the night comes
Yes baby
Ah ah oh
Dont do that to me woman
Ah ah oh
Ever stayed when the night time gets in here
Ah ah when the night comes
I wanna rise and up in the
When the night comes
Ah ah when the night comes
Ah ah oh
Love me
song performed by by Bryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Photographs & Memories
Photographs and memories
Christmas cards you sent to me
All that I have are these
To remember you
Memories that come at night
Take me to another time
Back to a happier day
When I called you mine
But we sure had a good time
When we started way back when
Morning walks and bedroom talks
Oh how I loved you then
Summer skies and lullabies
Nights we couldnt say good-bye
And of all of the things that we knew
Not a dream survived
Photographs and memories
All the love you gave to me
Somehow it just cant be true
Thats all Ive left of you
But we sure had a good time
When we started way back when
Morning walks and bedroom talks
Oh how I loved you then
song performed by by Jim Croce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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