I want to go to the highveld
I want to go to the highveld,
go and stand next to the green hillocks
and see how aloes
hit red sparks out of it.
I want to look up into the thin blue sky,
at night look at the bright stars
as if I can pick Orion and the sisters
and like marbles stroke my hand over them.
I want to walk in the red sand,
tread barefoot tracks
and even if the sand burns my feet
I want to leave marks that betray my presence.
When the thunderstorms arise
I want to see lightning bolts breaking on iron rocks,
see blue sparks spraying over the rocks
and hear the roaring clap as if God Himself is speaking with me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I Have A House Against The Sugar-Bush Hillocks
I have a house against the sugar-bush hillocks
where like orange speckles aloes grow wild,
where thunder strikes iron stones blue-white
with flowering proteas growing everywhere
and I see chacma baboons impudent
coming in a horde to my fruit orchard,
eating some whole peaches with meat and pits
in a blatant aggressive noisy group,
before they all run away indignant
and they are gone before the dark night comes
when storm clouds hang threatening black and grey,
with lightning bolts hitting some blue-white sparks
and every visitor that knocks on my door
is awaited like a welcome kind of guest.
he brushes his jean off making it neat
and then he turns right around to face me
where he is looking somewhat tattered,
he stands without any words as if dumb
but his words lie in every glance,
suddenly I see the whole of humanity
whose glances do not quarter for anything
bringing the hurt, the pain that oppression brings,
telling how men that can work are jobless,
how this evil still circles out wider,
treading some people down without pity,
how it pierces the Afrikaner nation,
as a type of evil occurrence.
poem by Gert Strydom
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There We Are
Listen to me and Ill sing you a song
And the time will go by
til you never know where its gone
Talk to me and Ill tell you my life story
Walk with me and Ill tell you my dreams of glory
There we are
Walking hand in hand
Somewhere on the sand
At the end of the land
And the edge of the shining sea
Drifting through time and space
On the face of a little blue ball
Falling around the sun
One in a million, billion, twinkling lights
Shining out for no one
In the middle of the night
Here we are
Sparks in the darkness
Speaking of our love
Burning down forever and forever
Oh I dont know if I told you
But you hold my heart in your hand
And I found out something about you
Baby, without you
Im a lonely man
So though I never say that I love you
I love you
Darling I do
Carly, I do love you
And though we are as nothing
To the stars that shine above
You are my universe
You are my love
Here we are
Like children forever
Taking care of one another
While the world goes on without us
All around us
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Conversation
Dad, I believe that you are resting where you are
that you are unaware of everything
as if you are only sleeping
but sometimes it feels
as if you are aware of my whole life,
then I wish that you could read my verses
as you were living for Afrikaans
and it was as if poems were in your blood
and I am wondering what you would have thought,
would have said as I am writing
every poem in English as well,
that it is the Scottish blood running true?
Sometimes when I see lightning bolts
trailing white blue down to earth,
getting the smell, almost like sulphur
where a thunderbolt falls
I am unafraid form being a child
and it’s as if I hear the voice of God
as if you are also near
like when I was a toddler
taking my hand in yours
and then I could not comprehend
that they were putting you in the cold earth,
it was if you had just left by your own will
which is a really strange thing
as you were truly in love with mom,
loved me and my younger brother
as if you would give your life for us
and when I go to your grave in the hillocks
at Heidelberg, at times I am dumb
as if an old pain
comes into my heart
and again I want to
walk into the hillocks with you
to gather protea flowers for mom
to give them to her in a glass vase
to together stand on the porch
while lightning bolt after lightning bolts
falls exploding form the sky,
to get the smell
of the first drops that are falling.
poem by Gert Strydom
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In the city
As a child in the afternoons
I walked home
barefoot along a sand road
with a short sleeved shirt and short pants
and the red brown sand
burnt my feet
but the air was bright blue,
I smelled the Lucerne of the field,
sometimes took a short cut through the stream,
birdcalls were like music
and the whole world belonged to me
and in everything
I could see the Lord’s works
and knew that I was serving
a loving Father.
l’Envoi
Now I walk with hand made shoes
in a designer suit
on concrete streets
from my car to the lift
then on thick carpets
to my office
and in the background
I can hear the air conditioner
and somewhere life
has lost its soul.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Dust bone
Love burns down to grief, burns
the edge of my heart.
In sorrow i break into sparks of
sand and become fire end, to dust of bones.
In the night i see the real canceled of love
bright lie.
Eyes gaze shut, glow smile fade
dream walks and talks and feet mark time
to the heartache beat.
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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Kingdom Come
Well I walked in the pouring rain
And I heard a voice that cries its all in vain
The voice of doom was shining in my room
I just need one day somewhere far away
Lord I just need one day
Well Ill be breaking these rocks
And cutting this hay
Yes Ill be breaking these rocks
Whats my price to pay
Well the rivers so muddy, but it may come clear
And I know too well whats keeping me here
Im just the slave of a burning ray
Oh give me the night, I cant take another sight
Please, please give me the night
Well Ill be breaking these rocks
And cutting this hay
Yes Ill be breaking these rocks
Whats my price to pay
Sun keeps beating down on me, walls a mile high
Up in the tower theyre watching me hoping Im gonna die
I wont be breaking no rocks
I said I wont be breaking no rocks
(I wont be breaking no rocks) oh-oh-oh
(I wont be breaking no rocks) oh-oh-oh
(I wont be breaking no rocks)
When the kingdom comes
When the kingdom comes
When the kingdom comes
When the kingdom comes
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Get Your Rocks Off
by Bob Dylan
You know, there's two ol' maids layin' in the bed,
One picked herself up an' the other one, she said:
"Get your rocks off!
Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off-a me! (Get 'em off!)"
Well, you know, there late one night up on Blueberry Hill,
One man turned to the other man and said, with a blood-curdlin' chill, he said:
"Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off-a me! (Get 'em off!)"
Well, you know, we was layin' down around Mink Muscle Creek,
One man said to the other man, he began to speak, he said:
"Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off-a me! (Get 'em off!)"
Well, you know, we was cruisin' down the highway in a Greyhound bus.
All kinds-a children in the side road, they was hollerin' at us, sayin':
"Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off-a me!
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thunder Touched (Cavatina Sequence)
There is a place with scorched molten earth
near some hillocks
where blue lightning lashes repeatedly
and there it knocks
anything that it can find with its fire,
where some big rocks
draws it somehow on that much higher ground,
that is cleared from anything around.
The sky was ominous grey and brooding,
intensely black
while static or maybe fear made hairs rise,
we did turn back
while some rain, bird egg size hail drilled down;
under attack
of great blue-white thunder that was falling
with a mighty whipping roaring blue sting.
Just in time we reached some safe cover,
we were drenched
while bolts of blue thunder fell threatening,
in fear clenched
were the fingers of both her tiny hands,
as if wrenched
the muscles of her arms moved in pain
while thunder lashed again and again.
Blue-white blazing light fell on closed lids;
her inner eye
remembered decimating scorching
from some times by,
when medical staff unleashed a bolt
let fury fly,
torching some synapses of her own mind,
experimenting they acted unkind.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Far Away In The Blue (Triolet)
As far away as the blue
where the sun touches the hillocks
lies the things that was once true,
as far away as the blue
lays memories of me and you,
where things are like they had been, like the rocks,
as far away as the blue
where the sun touches the hillocks.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A stroll at Sea Point
I walk right into
the wind that blows softly,
for a meeting
with the dark blue ocean
that stretches out far
under the bright blue sky
and suddenly I know
that Sea Point had been
a prosperous neighbourhood
but now there are numbers of old folk,
children hanging around like hippies
with liquor, cigarettes and drugs
and car guards catching my eye
while seagulls screeching
with impudence grab
flabby chips from a man’s hand
and like screaming helicopters
hang above him
and he angrily
also throws his piece of fish into the air
and saying: “take that too.”
The sea stays pretty dark blue
and when I walk along
I smell the salt,
I hear the thundering crunch
of waves without end
breaking and spraying
and it feels if here I am really living.
poem by Gert Strydom
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At a pan at night
In the dark night I hear horse hoofs
coming on thundering
and there are sparks
bursting from the quartz rocks.
In the sky
there’s a sickle moon
and the hairs
on my arms raise
while blue thunder
fall like shots around me
and I can smell fire and sulphur
on the wind.
For a moment
while a church bell
rings of midnight in the distance,
there’s a horse standing neighing
on its back feet.
Just one look
frightens me past being awake
when another lightning bolt
strikes down next to us
and a horse
with a man without head
passes me at great speed.
In the distance at a ruin
I see an old woman in white
with a shrill voice
cutting through the night.
“Can nothing stop you
Jan van der Meer? ”
[Reference: Die ruiter van skimmelperdpan by A.G. Visser. A legend from the second Anglo-Boer war.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Living Happily Ever After
We used to strike sparks
off each other.
Our eyes would meet
or our hands,
& the blue lightning of love
would sear the air.
Now we are soft.
We loll
in the same sleepy bed,
skin of my skin,
hair of my head,
sweat of my sweat-
you are kin,
brother & mother
all in one,
husband, lover, muse & comforter;
I love you even better
without sparks.
We are pebbles in the tide
rolling against each other.
The surf crashes above us;
the irregular pulse
of the ocean drives our blood,
but we are growing smooth
against each other.
Are we living happily ever after?
What will happen
to my love of cataclysms?
My love of sparks & fire,
my love of ice?
Fellow pebble,
let us roll
against each other.
Perhaps the sparks are clearer
under water.
poem by Erica Jong
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Cleveland Rocks
(ian hunter)
Three! four!
Three! four!
Three! four!
(bunch of ah-ah-ahs here)
All this energy calling me
Back where it comes from
Its such a crude attitude
Its back where it belongs
All the little kids growing up on the skids are goin
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Jumpin (jean) gene genies, moody james deanies goin
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Mama knows but she dont care
Shes got her worries too
Seven kids and a phony affair
And the rent is due
All the little chicks with the crimson lips go
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Shes livinin sin with a safety pin
Shes goin cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
I got some records from world war two
Ill play em just like me grand dad do
He was a rocker and I am too
Oh cleveland rocks, yeah cleveland rocks
So find a place
Grab a space
And yell and scream for more
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
(bunch of ah-ah-ahs here)
Three! four!
Three! four!
Three! four!
Ohio
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One More Day
At night the moon is looking at its phosphorescent reflection in the sea,
And seagulls are unruffled sleeping on the rocks
Only the waves caressing the sand i can hear,
In the magic silence of a sultry summer night.
I am barefoot walking on sea shore,
My feet are enjoying the relaxing warm sand,
My mind feel relieved of negative thoughts,
In this greatness that nature holds.
Peace is invading my heart tonight,
With great hopes for day that is coming,
I am feeling the sea releasing my pains,
I am feeling my heart painless and happy.
Wind is whispering gently to me a sweet poem,
Everything is so amazing, so sublime,
This silent night invites me in its magic,
To live fully one more day again.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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Thunderbolt
As a child I saw lightning
making blue sparks
on the back porch
and running over the iron rocks
into the old house against the hillock.
I could smell the thunderbolts
and it smacked down, much louder
than a gun
and as a small child
lightning did not scare me
and I walked in the rain
in a thunderstorm.
Until a day
where cattle fell dead around me
and then I got the real significance
of thunder
and now they press a thunderbolt
right into your head
and you are belted down
by people with white coats
who look very clinical,
who look at you from a distance
when they press a lever
who look at your fear and disconcertment
without feeling
and I see that you are still alive
and breathing,
when they push the lever again
and suddenly yesterday is gone
and your brain burnt out by half
and you can remember almost nothing
of your childhood days
and they believe
that you are halfway cured
and there’s a hell of a pain
that I see in your eyes.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Shame Is On The Rocks
Guess whos walking in your tracks
(dont look back)
Forcing you to re-enact
(making contact)
No-ones safe when
Shame is on the rocks
Theres no faith when
Shame is on the rocks
Bow your head, youll hear his call
(hear his call)
Such a shame, for one so tall
(instant recall)
No-one walks when
Shame is on the rocks
Theres no talk when
Shame is on the rocks
Slower than the second coming
It will happen all the same
Knowing why the spirits broken
Its a shame
Think before you say a word
(someone heard)
Go before you are disturbed
(days are numbered)
Lose your aim when
Shame is on the rocks
Miss the train when
Shame is on the rocks
Shame is the one with power in his hand
There he waits, without a plan
But no-one came, its such a...
Shame is the same for you and you and you
There are no chosen few
Who will remain? its such a...
song performed by by Heaven 17
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bickerings Are Over: A Forecast
rocks upon rocks
and mountains upon mountains
of rocks and heaps of sand upon
heaps of sand, red blood
spilling on this soil, and
bodies scattered along
the parths, and too much
writings of hate on the
walls,
the white horse has been
sent and the light from
the great sun has
penetrated every heart
now in the state of grace
each man shall be contented
and silenced.
the weather is fine and there
is food for all on the table.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Mystic Blue
Out of the darkness, fretted sometimes in its sleeping,
Jets of sparks in fountains of blue come leaping
To sight, revealing a secret, numberless secrets keeping.
Sometimes the darkness trapped within a wheel
Runs into speed like a dream, the blue of the steel
Showing the rocking darkness now a-reel.
And out of the invisible, streams of bright blue drops
Rain from the showery heavens, and bright blue crops
Surge from the under-dark to their ladder-tops.
And all the manifold blue and joyous eyes,
The rainbow arching over in the skies,
New sparks of wonder opening in surprise.
All these pure things come foam and spray of the sea
Of Darkness abundant, which shaken mysteriously,
Breaks into dazzle of living, as dolphins that leap from the sea
Of midnight shake it to fire, so the secret of death we see.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Ocean Breeze
As I look out at the ocean
As I drive down the coast,
All I can see is a little bit of white and the rest nothing but blue,
Only thing that this scene can bring is nothing bad, but to boast.
By this bringing nothing, but the deep beauty to me and you.
Enjoying everything such as the white waves crashing into the rocks at the ocean,
And feeling the Ocean Breeze as it shot past us further than anything else can reach.
This is when all you can hear is nothing but water as it is motion.
Causing me to want get out of the car and walk down on the beach,
And to the foam builds up as the wave starts to hits its crest.
As the beach sand stuck to the bottom of my feet,
Or as I stopped and dug down in the sand to search for that sunken treasure chest.
Feeling that wave
Or as it knocked you over down on your seat.
This something that a lot of people will never hear or see.
And this is why the Ocean Breeze and Scene means so much me
By Frank Pulver
poem by Frank Pulver
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The River Kern
While I walk the pavement sooty
In the town,
Tread the stony path of duty
Up and down,
Oh, the Kern, all clad in beauty—
Silver sheen
On blue and green—
Down his canon goes cascading,
Cavalcading,
Cannonading,
Seizing all the brooks and fountains
How they beat
Their crystal feet!—
Shouting to the haughty mountains,
Giant peaks that frown !
Oh, my heart runs with the river
Far away,
Though through wintry streets I shiver
Day by day!
Oh, I see the sunshine quiver—
Shafts of light
That pause in flight!—
While the Kern, with white feet prancing,
Downward dancing,
Gaily glancing,
Shakes the massive earth from under—
How he shocks
The solemn rocks!—
Shoves the mighty cliffs asunder,
Bids them guard his play!
Now I hear the horns a-blowing
From the height,
And I see white garments flowing
Sheer and bright!
Down the hills the Kern is going—
Hear him call
His legions all!
Ye intrepid, oh come leaping!
Leave your sleeping
Swords from scabbards—hark, the clamor!
Swift and free
Oh would you be?—
In the glory, in the glamour,
Follow day and night !
poem by Harriet Monroe
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