En.Citatepedia^®.ro

In the veldt a spitting cobra is suddenly onto me

In the veldt a spitting cobra is suddenly onto me
and before it can strike or spray poison
there’s a rock that comes to hand
and I smash the head of the spitting snake

but where it lies toppled jerking
the grass, bushes and veldt trembles
there’s a curse that it says with its last breath
as if the dying of it mentions something unheard.

The vast earth grind and boil
as if rock banks gnash on each other
when the leviathan with its smoking breath
bursts from the depths

where suddenly sinister it peers at me
and seven snakeheads spit fire.

poem by Gert Strydom
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How to paint a striking Rinkhals

Green knee high grass
paves, covers the veldt

making the snake's hideout
its place from where it sails.

First observe the snake
sneaking from the grass

while it passes camouflaged
to the next shade

or lies turned over
as if dead, showing its stomach

enticing you to pass, or to come near
to investigate,

maybe you'll see the stripes
ringing its neck

in colours of cream
or something near to white

or maybe you may not
when in terror astounded

to whoever looks
it flashes alive

like a lightning rod
with death sizzling out of its mouth

and if you can paint this
you have the essence of it,

making terror alive,
in a snake which looks placid

but which can spit and strike
carrying death as far as it goes.

[Rinkhals: Spitting African Cobra.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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Spittoon

Spitting in any form is bad
Spitfire is dangerous
Spit destroy everything.
Spitting cobra spray venom
Unbalanced man spit emotion
Scorn fear condemnation.

Spitupon is not civilised
Spit it out left manything.
Here is spittoon
If you want to be good
throw out everything spit
In this spittoon
And get a bonbon
And get a boon.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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A hunting expedition

Far off in the bush veldt near to Marken,
where the red sand lies like sea sand,
a young hunter on a day
takes a old.303 rifle with open sights

and walks following a tracker,
that they call a guide,
past green thorn trees
with long white camel-thorns

to where a impala
is standing against a hillock
and he aims for a headshot
and I say to him: “shoot for the shoulder-blade”

but he doesn’t listen
and when the shot resounds
the antelope lowers its head
and the bullet whistles away from a rock plate

with the antelope
running away in a red brown stripe
disappearing into the bushes
and the bush veldt sun
burns without mercy down on us.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Encounter with a Rinkhals

It was lying on the ground
turned on its back
with its black-brown
body shining and mouth agape
and looked like dead
and I could see
yellow-white bands ringing
the top of its torso.

Still something in that lifeless
ring necked spitting cobra
scared the living daylight
out of me
and like a lightning bolt
the death-shamming snake
shot upright spreading its hood
and hissing loudly.

Luck was on my side
when that evil reptile
spat at my eyes
and its venimous spray
splattered my glasses.

One moment it looked dead
and the next
it was viciously alive
and struck out at me,
but missed me by a mile.

[Reference: “The Rinkhals also called the Ringhals or Ring-necked Spitting Cobra (Hemachatus haemachatus) is a venomous elapid found in parts of southern Africa. It is one of a group of cobras that has developed the ability to spit venom as a defence mechanism.” Wikipedia.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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The Rinkhals in Muckleneuk Ridge

We were living in the mansion
in Muckleneuk Ridge
when Heinrich wheeled the
rubbish bin out to the street
to leave it for the collectors,
and the red haired neighbour woman
started to shout at him.

I was just getting out of my Volkswagen Polo
and within a minute I was there
like a avenging angel,
telling her to leave the boy alone
and that the pavement
doesn’t belong to her
and that we have got the right
to put out the rubbish bin
for the rubbish collectors.

She got red with anger in her face,
hissed like a snake trying to spit
and cursed me in English
and I told her to get lost.

That woman was aquatically
quite funny and always dressed
in a track suit,
(as if she had no other
type of clothes)
living in a dilapidated house
like a hermit
with rusting sink plate roof
and weeds standing knee high
in her garden
in that rich man’s neighbourhood.

It was when the dogs
tried to catch a half grown coucal
which the wind had blown
out of its nest
and I jumped down the steps
of some terraces
to rescue the poor thing

and I and that wild bird
got to love each other
and it would start to scream
with excitement as soon
as it heard my car
coming near

that Heinrich trapped a venomous
ring-neck spitting cobra
in our garden
and I wanted to kill it
and you said
that even snakes
have a right to live.

I told you that the snake
was apt to kill somebody
as I was leaving for work
and you took the kids
to let it free in the field,
(or so I was told) ,

but a few days later
that utterly rude woman
was really surprised
and screamed for her life
when a snake hissed at her
spitting in her eyes.

[Rinkhals = ring-neck spitting cobra.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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Deep in the veldt

Deep in the veldt
there is peace from the bustle,
deep in the veldt
people do not always become disconcerted
with a depressing feeling;
here I can still feel near to God,
deep in the veldt.

poem by Gert Strydom
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On a spoor

We were hot on a fresh spoor
and the bushman tracker said
that the enemy were not far ahead

when we crossed through some dense bush
under some trees
and looking up I saw something on a branch

camouflaged, dappled into the shade
and yellow eyes peered down at me
filled with rage, with energy

and astounded more than anything
I brought the gun to bear,
but the pent up energy,

melted with languid grace
right into the tree
as if it wasn’t aware of me, aware of us

and we walked on past a clearing
into the open veldt where hip high grass
was interrupted by some green thorn bushes.

A huge male lion came bursting
out of one of the bushes
with swishing tale running at full speed

and we all froze in our strides with weapons ready
and it was almost
as if the light machinegun’s trigger was tempting me
to shoot the raging storming animal down

and at that moment I was relieved
that it was not the leopard that would jump,
from one of us after another at sheer speed

and at quick succession try to kill us all
being a expert at baboon hunting
and thus at killing primates

but the tracker had signalled for all of us
to wait when he saw it
and that party of special force soldiers

was ready to kill when that lion
came to a halt with swishing tail right in front of me
and I can still smell its foul breath

when it roared with wide-open jaws
and terror hit my stomach like a mighty fist
and I could have cut it down

blasting it right from the ground
but the ferocity, the beauty of that beast
halted me as if I was watching it in a dream

and I watched its yellow fangs and pink tongue
totally motionless trying to stare it down
and suddenly it turned around

walking back into the veldt
timid and kitten-eyed
disappearing into the grass, melting into it

poem by Gert Strydom
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Rinkhals thoughts

I sail to wherever I want to be,
sometimes lie stretched out
in the hot African sun

always inspecting the air
with my forked tongue
sensing with my black shiny eyes

if there’s movement anywhere,
something to spray with my deadly spit
a enemy to strike out at

before it can squash me
and forever I am free
to hit at the heel

to find my own way
through the undergrowth,
to prey whenever I want

with a deadly flash,
to end life, I am created for it
and nothing but death stops me

and sometimes you will find
where I have been
by the marks on the sand,

the remains of my skin
or victims that I have left
or turned right over

poising as if dead,
waiting on the right moment
to come to life, to hit with great speed.

[Reference: Rinkhals: Ring necked African spitting cobra.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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Rock In The Weary Land

My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
None of this moves me,
I should be weeping but it only hurts when I yawn
I let it blow through me, and its gone!
Im dressed like a scarecrow
Stripped of all my power, as if some judge in judgement said
Off with his great coat, and his head!
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Meaningless movies
On the screen behind the band thats blowing flowing shapes
Half of their music is on tape
My mentor and champion is busy tilting at the windows of his stately home
The daemon hes grappling
Is his own!
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
His letter lies open
His accusations flow like poison from his every word
My heart would be broken, but for her
The fag-end of winter
Im in shock! Im on the ropes! I dont know whats become!
She plucks the splinter from my thumb
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
In the weary land!
My rock in a weary land
My rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
In a weary land
Hey!
A rock in a weary land
A rock in a weary land
A rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
In a weary land!

song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rock In The Weary Land

My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
None of this moves me,
I should be weeping but it only hurts when I yawn
I let it blow through me, and its gone!
Im dressed like a scarecrow
Stripped of all my power, as if some judge in judgement said
Off with his great coat, and his head!
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Meaningless movies
On the screen behind the band thats blowing flowing shapes
Half of their music is on tape
My mentor and champion is busy tilting at the windows of his stately home
The daemon hes grappling
Is his own!
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
His letter lies open
His accusations flow like poison from his every word
My heart would be broken, but for her
The fag-end of winter
Im in shock! Im on the ropes! I dont know whats become!
She plucks the splinter from my thumb
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
In the weary land!
My rock in a weary land
My rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
In a weary land
Hey!
A rock in a weary land
A rock in a weary land
A rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
In a weary land!

song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Rock In A Weary Land

My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
None of this moves me,
I should be weeping but it only hurts when I yawn
I let it blow through me, and its gone!
Im dressed like a scarecrow
Stripped of all my power, as if some judge in judgement said
Off with his great coat, and his head!
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Meaningless movies
On the screen behind the band thats blowing flowing shapes
Half of their music is on tape
My mentor and champion is busy tilting at the windows of his stately home
The daemon hes grappling
Is his own!
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
His letter lies open
His accusations flow like poison from his every word
My heart would be broken, but for her
The fag-end of winter
Im in shock! Im on the ropes! I dont know whats become!
She plucks the splinter from my thumb
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
In the weary land!
My rock in a weary land
My rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
In a weary land
Hey!
A rock in a weary land
A rock in a weary land
A rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
In a weary land!

song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It’s quiet, very quiet in the veldt

It’s quiet, very quiet in the veldt
even the crickets and grasshoppers
are without sound

and the chopper drones away
leaving me and Johnny
and a few other men

with a Bushmen tracker
to follow a enemy spoor
and suddenly we walk straight in
to a ambush, right into a trap

and Johnny is dead, shot through the head
and three others as well and it feels as if I am in hell
and I am talking to myself

trying to get my bearings while firing at the enemy,
killing some and throwing two grenades
to advice them of my serious intentions

and the enemy shooting stops, as does that
of me and my men and I smell death
and are nauseous to the point of retching

and it’s quiet, very quiet in the veldt
even the crickets and grasshoppers
are without sound.

poem by Gert Strydom
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The veldt is all around me

The veldt is all around me
and I am beyond enemy lines
camouflaged, clothed in
military uniform, wearing tracking boots,
with the soles almost like
running shoes,
with a weapon in my hands

viewing, taking reconnaissance
of enemy soldiers, driving by
on pickups, in cars without roofs
in trucks waving guns
in the air and sometimes
firing as they pass by

and suddenly a young boy
is beside me
clothed in a blue short sleeved shirt
and grey short pants
looking like school uniform
but being too young for school
and walking barefoot
right next to me.

Wherever I run from bush to bush,
catwalk, leopard crawl
and hide behind bushes
getting nearer to enemy positions
he stays at my side like a shadow
running, walking and standing openly

and it annoys me
and that he keeps talking to me
as he can draw attention to us
and I say:

“Gerrie, come and lie down.
Hide behind this bushes. Stop talking.
You will draw the enemy to us.”

Unconcerned like walking in the veldt
in my young days, and being ignored
by the natives passing by
the boy looks at me
shaking his head and asks:

“Why are the enemy shooting in the air
while they drive past?
Why do they sometimes
rob their own people? ”

Realizing that it’s my own thoughts
and I look at the child again
and see my younger self
with childish innocence
accompanying me.

poem by Gert Strydom
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The Cause of Enmity between Snake and Man

Snake, the first owner of fire.
Dog, the robber of fire.
Man the last owner of fire.
The snake gave birth first to fire.
Thus fire, the first born of snake.
Thus snake, only owner of fire long ago.
One cold evening
The man dying of coldness
The dog seen it master dying of coldness
It went to snake house and begged
The snake, the mother of fire to let
It tail get warm of fire
The snake cordially welcomed the dog
The dog twisted it tail on fire
The tail caught the fire
The dog jumped over the snake in door
Ran quickly to it master, the man
The man took the grass and wood
And lit up the fire
The fire lit up in man’s house
And it extinguished in snake’s house
The snake come to get fire back
But the man attack the snake
The hostility between man and snake
Began then

poem by David Aoloch Bion
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Fishing for carp

Fishing for carp, probably kurper or yellow-fish
with the woman leaving to prepare sausage
frying it near to the car on a Cadac frying pan,
(you know how it is)

with a six-pack cooling in the river
and then a sound, a movement making you shiver
when on your right a banded spitting cobra appears
and girly is ready with the food, ready to deliver

a tray full of goodies that she made with loving care
and you wish for her to be anywhere
but right there, but luckily she notices the snake
freezes behind you somewhere

and the ringhals till now with eyes brown and unaware
only half awake senses something testing the air
with forked tongue and rears up ready to strike or spit
and this is it, you have had your share of luck, but still you dare

and using the rod in your hands you slam with all your might,
you slam to your right
striking the spitting hissing thing and it is flying
and it misses sweetie by a mile and luckily it is the last sight

that you have of it, while she screams in fright
and curses the day, morning sun and night
as a rattled girl sometimes does
and you assure her that every thing is well, is all right

and then unexpectedly you have a bite,
the policeman jumps and you are in for a fight
while the mother of all fishes
struggles to be free and you smite

the other rod, hooking it well and good
and the rites of fishing is well understood
and girly is handy with the catching net,
smiles in a better mood.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Never Know Why

If were offensive and pose a threat
You fear what we represent is a mess
Youve missed the message that says it all
And youll never know why
Oh no youll never know why
We rock
Its just a feeling how we excite
You cannot rule everybody in sight
But you condemn dont understand
And youll never know why
Oh no youll never know why
We rock rock rock
We rock rock rock
We rock rock rock
Youll never know why
We rock
I leave you cold and in disgust
Dont try to tame me youll eat my dust
I know that you know not what you do
Thats why youll never know why
Oh no youll never know why
We rock rock rock
We rock rock rock
We rock rock rock
Youll never know why
We rock rock rock
We rock rock rock
We rock rock rock
Youll never know why
We rock

song performed by by Ozzy Osbourne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Was I

(l. stansfield/i. devaney/a. morris)
Chorus:
There was i
Taking every step for you
There was i
Taking every breath for you
And all the time you were with her
I loved you
I spurred you on
Never wanting for myself
Adored you
For what I dont know
Cos you were loving someone else
And now youre spitting in my face
Telling me that someone else
Has taken my place
Chorus
Important
Oh how important you were to me
Eternal
Thats what I thought our love would be
But now youre spitting in my face
Telling me that someone else
Has taken my place
Chorus
And now youre spitting in my face
Telling me that someone else
Has taken my place
Chorus (x 3)

song performed by by Lisa Stansfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Suddenly

Orbison/melson
Suddenly, my heart stood still
Suddenly, the sight of you gave me a thrill
Suddenly
Suddenly, i see you everywhere
Suddenly, all at once i seem to care for you
Suddenly
So suddenly i found you
To think you were near all the time
I've often been around you
I don't know how i could have been so blind
Suddenly, my world is new
Suddenly, suddenly there's only you
Suddenly
So suddenly i found you
To think you were near all the time
I've often been around you
I don't know how i could have been so blind
Suddenly, suddenly you're my dream come true
Suddenly, suddenly there's only you
So suddenly

song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dirty Boy (and what befell him)

Jack, Jack, the Packer's son
was very fond of spitting-
and never under any terms
would hear a thing of quitting.

'I love to spit', cracked Jack, 'in fact,
I love its every aspec';
I like to do it privately
But even more in public'.

His mother pleaded 'stop that, Jack! '
But dared not whack the child
for that, she'd often read in books
would make him crass and wild.

His teacher said, 'Jack, please don't spit-'
the boy would spit twice over-
nor would he cease from doing it
on Sundays or Passover.

Serious John and little Mim
appealed as fellow kids-
they gently told him what was wrong
and of the harm he did.

'Spitting is evil', said John, and breeds
all kinds of diagnoses:
glanders, pinta and no less,
tuberculosis boves.'

poem by Morgan Michaels
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Sonnets of the stone ruins

I

Long ago a mighty hunter
sailed on the river to look for medicine
and his canoe made from tree
was swept along with uprooted trees
by a river in flood.

He lost control over the boat
and in the distance
a thundering sound
hanged in the air
mighty smoke
rose ghostly out of the water
in a fine spray
and he could hear tons of water
flowing down a cataract.

II

While the canoe was spinning round
and round
he tied a long thin strong thong
to a arrow
and with all the power in his strong arms
he draws the bow’s string and set his aim
on a massive tree
standing on the shore.

The arrow caught speed
and hanged a moment in the grey air
before it hit the tree with great force
and the thong spanned stiff
and his arms with desperate power
overcame the river.

III

He passed the remains
of ancient mines
and villages declining
and overgrown by bushes
and suddenly there were rock walls and towers
and branches creeping
into the walls.

Cautiously he sneaked nearer
and shot a arrow through a spitting cobra
and suddenly a figure appeared behind a bush,
but before his rock could hit it
it disappeared into the nought
and against a niche another figure stared
deep into his thoughts

IV

When he stormed with assegai in his hand
onto that figure
it disappeared around a corner
into a dark passageway
and all at once
there was an animal with glowing eyes
breathing heavily in the dark in front of him
and he lifted his shield against it
And took a firm grip on the back of the spear.

With rotting breath and cruel anger
a lion leaped with stretched out claws
growling onto him,
but he was shield somewhat
While the assegai went deep past the animal’s ribs.

V

While the lion died in anger
the claws ripped deep into the hunter’s shoulder
and his sharp knife
slashed time after time
through the animal’s heart
and covered in blood
he came out
from under weight of the dead lion.

In horror he saw
the lion changing slowly
from animal to human
with a spear through his ribs
and a lion skin
around his shoulders.

VI

He was still busy
dragging the lion skin from the killed man
and felt the soft fur
in his hands,
when to more lions
in anger leaped on him.

It was too much for him
since both knife and spear
still wedged into the dead man
and with the fighting
he had lost
his bow and arrows
and he was cornered
by lions ripping from both sides.

VII

l’Envoi

It is told
than when the air is open
and the moon takes long to rise
a mighty hunter appears
with the rain gods
where they bash their shields
and spears against each other
and that the air
is now his hunting ground

You can see stripes of thunder
when his arrows with thongs
dropp down to earth,
before the new season’s
first raindrops fall.

[Reference: With thanks to “The ivory trail” by T.V. Bulpin that gave me the idea of this poem.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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