Now it is winter when trees are skeleton
Now it is winter when trees are skeleton,
stripped bare and have no more leaves
as if they are lifeless
and the weather is grey as if
there’s only chill and sieving rain
with banks of covering fog
that cuts the sun and light,
into a cold pitiless world
and then you first past and come to me
with a yellow raincoat, your pants splashed wet
where you shake your hair out, like a dog does with rain
in a blizzard of spray, getting it out of your hair
and I know that our time is only burrowed
when you stretch against me, cuddly and slim, just you and me alone
and you are hot like a ray of light that unexpectedly comes down,
we are one in passion, in a moment
after which I remove the hairclips from your hair,
your eyes are gleaming like shining pieces of steel
and you are only mine, with soft lips and big eyes
and bliss descends between us.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Now is The Winter With Trees Stripped Naked
Now is the winter with trees naked
when there is cold and sifting rain,
stripped bare without leaves
and then you first come past and then to me
like a sun rising over the horizon
with a yellow raincoat, your pants splashed wet, laughing and glad
and your company is full of fun
in bands of gathering fog.
Now is the winter with trees naked
cutting off every ray and light
and I know our time is only borrowed,
like a sun rising over the horizon
but stopping the rays in this winter,
in a cold world without hope or pity,
stripped bare without leaves
where you shake out your hair like a dog does with rain,
whereupon I take the clips from your hair
and I know our time is only borrowed
but your are glorious like a poster
and for long moments time is missing.
Now is the winter with trees naked
with bliss descending between us
and you are only mine, with soft lips and big eyes
whereupon I take the clips from your hair
and I see your beauty
our passion goes to practical reality,
stripped bare without leaves
we shine like the world outside in vulnerability like rainbows,
where passion sweeps us away from uncovering
and you are only mine, with soft lips and big eyes
pretty, pure and untouched
in moments of ecstasy without fatigue.
Now is the winter with trees naked
stripped bare without leaves
and I am totally lost in you.
and then you first come past and then to me,
where passion sweeps us away from uncovering
with a yellow raincoat, your pants splashed wet, laughing and glad.
poem by Gert Strydom
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In another time of year
There are autumn leaves
creaking under my shoes,
some of the trees are stripped bare
and the wind has a chill
that cuts right through all my clothes.
It is as if the whole of nature longs
for leaves to be hanging on branches,
for a bright hot sun,
and for rain to come at the right time
but when I am with you
it’s as if we
are in another time of year
where no cold winds blow
and you cuddle me in your sunny world.
When I hear your heart beat
through your bare body,
your skin clings possessively against mine,
I see suns living in your eyes,
you lead me to a magical garden
and I wonder what has to happen
to make our spring
a summer?
poem by Gert Strydom
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It’s April
It’s April and the autumn rain
patters down for days long,
the Magalies Mountains are covered
by grey-black clouds
and later there are summer days
where the sun still hangs white-hot
and I long, want the summer
to last forever
but the years are already
leaving their marks on my face,
are drawing through my hair
and like some of the trees
in a winter I will also turn skeleton,
become stripped from my better days
and then at a time
will be part of the cold earth.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I Have Seen Autumn
I have never felt the chill of winter
Nor the birth of spring
Only the two faces of Nature
The golden sun shining
Or the heavens openly weeping.
But I have seen autumn
As I looked at her
No cold winter in her smile
A promise of summer in her eyes
Her hair of autumn leaves.
I have never felt autumn
But I have seen it
It’s the canvass of Rembrandt
Dark, red, crimson, gold
But I have never felt it.
Is the autumn breeze damp and soft like her lips?
Is the autumn sky naked and warm like her skin?
But I have never kissed her lips nor touched her skin
I have only seen autumn
But I have never felt it.
poem by Shogunoka Ledesma III
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A Softer Place
i've held this breath
since i blew that permanent sigh
in your temporary direction...
did i turn and look
just before the knob-
just to see your shining hair
skin, eyes-
for just a shining moment?
oh, yes.
if circumstance leaves it there,
i would have to pretend
that it had been some softer place
that this all had occurred:
like the bay,
or the park, or another-
where i had,
for the second time,
see your hair
skin
eyes
but in the sun this time-
for a second-
oh, yes.
poem by Jeff Thornton
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Grey Train
This Sunday she'll come
To see me again.
And we will kiss
Then talk about
That and this.
And laugh into each others eyes.
Embrace in lovers sighs.
I'll make her lunch.
I have a hunch
She will be the one.
As I hold her hand in the sun.
And on Monday
She takes the grey train.
And cries as she leaves me again.
Next Sunday she'll come to see me once more.
I'll carry her bags to my door.
And dance her across my floor.
But
My heart now trembles
In cold light of day.
The past now resembles
A romantic play.
It's been a while
Since a smile
When she came to stay.
I'm talking to an empty chair.
She'll grace my rhyme.
And toss her sunshine hair.
But
On Monday
I will watch the grey train.
And cry as she leaves me again.
I kiss her eyes
As I stand in the rain.
So searing
The endless pain.
Disappearing
My love
On grey train.
poem by Kevin East
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No winter can chill
Grey clouds gather in the sky
with the promise
of some more rain,
but my sunshine is gone
and your smile
falls somewhere else.
How I wish to share
this early winter with you,
to gather your auburn hair
in my hands,
to shelter against the cold
and hold you close
and get a tender kiss,
but the falling red-brown leaves
has an own reality
of the distance between you and me
and still no winter
can chill what lies
between us.
poem by Gert Strydom
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My autumn [2]
Around me trees are stripped
rigid, bare and totally naked
and heaps of leaves lie fallen
already colouring
from yellow to red and into brown.
Everything is lifeless,
like my life in pieces
and still there are thunderstorms
that repeatedly falls in this winter
out of season
and I am almost blinded by the thunder
as if it wants to devour everything about me
and still there’s new life
that this rain brings
and it’s clear
that my autumn is coming too early
and although my body still feels young
the greyness are creeping in
and you write words
of keeping yourself in vain,
of a child
that never will be born
and about everything becoming rotten
like a compos heap
and that love has also receded
as if everything this autumn
has elapsed for once and all.
Yet the grass is still green,
some trees are covered with leaves
and I wonder where you and I stand
when this season disappears
and the coming winter ends?
Still you are in my heart,
as if you are part of me
and I know that life without you
is totally meaningless.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Wreath Of Sonnets To A Sweetheart
I
Tonight for the first time I caught your gaze
where you smelt roses in a garden,
with auburn curly hair hanging down your shoulders,
at morning glories trumpeting in strings over the wall
the window reflected you, caught in bright glass
and from the street I saw how lovely you are
feelings dancing in your sea-green eyes
aware of a unknown secret bond
but in the morning light you did disappear like mist
and when I rose
your were just a thought
you were already gone
like a pretty withered flower;
our friendship came suddenly.
II
Our friendship came suddenly.
like lightning falling from the blue sky
where two people in the great universe
are astounded by each other momentarily,
maybe we knew intrinsically that troubled days were coming,
perhaps had a intuition that moments decay with time
and for the time that was given to us, we were madly in love
like everyone in mankind at times
as if you came into my life unstoppable,
the winter rain of months changed
with a unknown adaptability
and although you are at times far off and distant
you still remain the only one;
like two jewels your eyes are shining.
III
Like two jewels your eyes are shining
pierced by a bright light,
they are oval like olives
with the glittering of rainbows
still they have got the ability
to with a own secret language
draw my thoughts to you
when you bewitch me, full of sunshine laughter and elated
making the world wonderful
as if we are exceptional,
as if clouds are writing enchanting words in the sky,
the sun is rising over days that just get more beautiful
and like two children we find meaning;
by our own free will we are incorporated into each other
IV
By our own free will we are incorporated into each other
in ecstasy, recreation and trouble
of the small loving death
with words that your body writes.
Your slender body
presses tightly against mine
and I can feel your heart beating
without hesitation driven
moments are drawing out long
we are fulfilled in ecstasy,
you drawn me still closer
hitting your nails into me, screaming in pleasure
as if caught in this single moment,
you were twisting from sheer pleasure.
V
You were twisting from sheer pleasure,
but why do your eyes bother me
when you complete me so perfectly,
going deep into my soul leaving an inability?
When this wondrous night passes
you stay incomprehensible to me,
as if something is missing from my comprehension,
that lies between us, something almost untouchable.
Still there is sunshine in every glance that you give
and an intimate certainty with which you love me
as if you trust me with every secret,
as if our feelings will never change
even when destiny foams thundering,
when the cold rain pours down.
VI
When the cold rain pours down
as if there’s no stopping to it,
sieving down in a Cape winter in banks of fog,
with the wind howling around the corners of the house
there’s a monotonousness in the noise,
days became grey as if stripped from meaning,
your smile comes to me day after day to refresh my life,
it’s as if you traverse my life the whole time
and I realise how fleeting life is,
that what we have got is caught in the here and now,
in the glitter and sparkle of the moment,
where I cannot still draw you near;
while you are doing your undressing dance.
VII
While you are doing your undressing dance
my beloved auburn girl, you are standing there winking,
while braless you gambol around me
catching me in a trance
and the sincerity of your glance, the sparkle
at times is terrifying as if it maims,
as if something gruesome shines in your eyes,
spread your web for me without a chance of escape
let smoke rise from sparks
in the temple of my heart
and when the fire alarms are wailing and I yearn for you
you have already caught me and can be silent,
you play your game and I my part to it;
glowing lights are radiating in the night.
VIII
Glowing lights are radiating in the night,
bringing joy to the dark hour
and in my veins power rushes
of passion’s glowing fire
of earthly desires, as if from the ground
burning through my blood
when your sparking mouth
let desires awake in a pouring flood
and creeping your hand sail over my chest
in flaming lust,
in the hour of deeper thirst
that only lips, hands and bodies can answer to,
it feels as if in emotions we are overstepping the mark;
tonight there is a potsherd moon.
IX
Tonight there is a potsherd moon
as if the moon is breaking in pieces
there’s only a piece of it glowing in the heaven
and very slowly
it rises in the sky, as if it is following the stars in its orbit
where it hangs high as apiece, until the morning comes eventually,
showing early morning still against the blue sky
until its brilliance disappears, suddenly wasted
and still it’s as if the moon has enchanted me,
with its rays and shadows
falling secretly over my whole life,
it enchants me with love
that I find without fear;
when you kiss me a star shoots past.
X
When you kiss me a star shoots past,
you are the sunshine of this summer,
you make me mad with passion,
as the answer to what my life is yearning for
and in the dark night
when you come and lie
somewhat afraid next to me, supple and soft
there’s passion that I read in your eyes.
Your lips stroke butterfly soft over my mouth,
at times only touches my cheek,
as if near to holy ground
free and never caught
with eyes at times gleaming secretively;
you smell of flowers blooming in spring.
XI
You smell of flowers blooming in spring
fresh, noble and sweet
and its as if thousands of streams flows through your eyes,
as if a glowing
is radiating out of them
but against your blouse sinful blossoms are showing,
an attraction, a stimulation that goes to your loins
where all promises, all relationships ends
as if you are the flower of flowers,
out of which all others come,
going the way of Eve, with great loving
drawing every man, to whom you glance astoundingly
and in this spring you smile at me,
as if you can free me from every other woman.
XII
As if you can free me from every other woman
with lasciviousness in every step,
you are only looking at me
and sometimes your eyes radiate like thunder
and when age come with the years,
will fire then still rise between us
when our youth disappears into the grey, bended in spent disguise,
beginning to show the road to eternity?
Will we then still know the meaning of love,
when all other things begin to fade away
like fog in the brain and memory
and will we still dare
where things now look lovely and heavenly
to look past the surface?
XIII
To look past the surface
how the terribly strong wind
is blowing the winter rain away,
one morning I was gazing with moisture blinding me
while the palm trees were waving around,
it was grabbing broken branches,
with the water in the distance looking grey in the bay
and I was walking unnoticed to your window
and I was wondering if you
would look down from the top window,
maybe would spot me, if I would be able to get in touch with you
and even that gloomy day was lustrous to me
as you love me in times of joy and sorrow;
now that winter is drawing skeleton.
XIV
Now that winter is drawing skeleton
with days bending like branches over me,
with a few birds rising calling into the air,
have I got to miss you, search for you for joy and meaning?
Am I still blinded
against the errors that you scream out,
where like all others you are caught in this age?
Still there’s something in me that wants to find you
and I dream right through the night
how your slender arms embrace me,
I see you in other faces during the day,
as if you are close to me
and I wonder what to expect of these things
while the leaves of the acorn are falling and perishing around me?
XV
Tonight for the first time I caught your gaze,
our friendship came suddenly,
like two jewels your eyes are shining,
by our own free will we are incorporated into each other.
You were twisting from sheer pleasure
when the cold rain pours down,
while you are doing your undressing dance,
flowing lights are radiating in the night.
Tonight there is a potsherd moon,
when you kiss me a star shoots past,
you smell of flowers blooming in spring,
as if you can free me from every other woman
to look past the surface
now that winter is drawing skeleton.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Time sneaks past so quickly
Time sneaks past so quickly
when you lie next to me
and I would like to have it different.
The dark night throws long shadows
that draws fingers over your cheeks
and the intimate smell
of you and me
is like the scent of rain
that brings new life.
You big breasts are pointed and soft
and I feel every time
that you take a breath
and soft hot air
blows against my cheek
like a confession,
that still catches
the earlier passion.
Somewhere in the late night
your whole body
lies hot against mine
and your auburn hair
tickles my face,
while your soft and warm lips
find mine
and it’s blissful
to have you against me once more.
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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Wind bride
Without you my days are empty,
as if blown by the wind,
as if everything is swept away
like pieces of sand
into another place,
into another sombre world
where clouds knot through the air
melting into each other
and even some of the flowers
have the colours of your eyes
the winter grass
looks almost like your hair (only the colour differs)
and when you suddenly knock on the front door
standing there with rain and wind
stringing your hair
your arms shoot round my neck.
When I draw you in through the front door
your hair is swept against me,
while I am lost in your eyes,
and you are like Kokoschka’s wind bride.
[References: After the painting of Oskar Kokoschka. Windsbruid (Windy-bride) by H. J. Pieterse.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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We stood at the sea on a winter day
We stood at the sea on a winter day,
the waves were grey
as if made from steel
and rain was sifting from the sky
with bleak clouds covering the sun
as if it would not shine for months to come
and I felt almost lifeless
when your eyes avoided mine
roving away to the distant bay
and somehow I had lost the thing
that brought the magic to us
and the spark in the touch,
your voice and eye was gone
and my legs felt like lead.
We stood at the sea on a winter day
and the sun was cursed away,
our love was dead
and I learnt how easy love could deceive
and the pain shaped me
into someone else.
poem by Gert Strydom
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When I Close my Eyes
When I close my eyes,
I can see my country,
Shining in the light, bright.
When I close my eyes.
When I close my eyes,
I see the trees,
Green against the skyline.
When I close my eyes.
When I close my eyes,
I see stars shining cross,
The wide beyond.
When I close my eyes.
When I close my eyes,
I see the sunset behind your hair,
Halo shining in the air.
When I close my eyes.
When I close my eyes,
I hear the ocean waves,
Crashing on the shore.
When I close my eyes.
When I close my eyes,
I see the moon glistening,
Through your eyes.
When I close my eyes.
© 2012
poem by Nick Strong
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My prayers
I touched your cold hands
hands that worked the land
caressed your tousled hair
hair that had known flair
kissed your silent lips
lips that sweet secrets keep
My prayers in vain
tears leaving stain
Your words lodged themselves
deep in the crevices and shelves
awaiting the moment of freedom
to shine in the kingdom
I touched her little hands
hands that hold no plan
caressed her soft hair
hair that dances in the air
kissed her sweet lips
lips that smile at the tips
My prayers in pain
soul bare lain
Her laughter clear as bells
chasing away spells
dispersing shadows with her light
casting wrongs putting them right
Your words came flying back
Have faith tho thee lack
it will sustain thee
in life without plea
My prayers in gratitude
love in servitude
Aubade
JANE, Jane,
Tall as a crane,
The morning light creaks down again;
Comb your cockscomb-ragged hair,
Jane, Jane, come down the stair.
Each dull blunt wooden stalactite
Of rain creaks, hardened by the light,
Sounding like an overtone
From some lonely world unknown.
But the creaking empty light
Will never harden into sight,
Will never penetrate your brain
With overtones like the blunt rain.
The light would show (if it could harden)
Eternities of kitchen garden,
Cockscomb flowers that none will pluck,
And wooden flowers that 'gin to cluck.
In the kitchen you must light
Flames as staring, red and white,
As carrots or as turnips shining
Where the cold dawn light lies whining.
Cockscomb hair on the cold wind
Hangs limp, turns the milk's weak mind . . .
Jane, Jane,
Tall as a crane,
The morning light creaks down again!
poem by Dame Edith Louisa Sitwell
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Porphyria's Lover
The rain set early in to-night,
The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
And did its worst to vex the lake:
I listened with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria; straight
She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate
Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;
Which done, she rose, and from her form
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,
And laid her soiled gloves by, untied
Her hat and let the damp hair fall,
And, last, she sat down by my side
And called me. When no voice replied,
She put my arm about her waist,
And made her smooth white shoulder bare
And all her yellow hair displaced,
And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,
And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair,
Murmuring how she loved me – she
Too weak, for all her heart's endeavour,
To set its struggling passion free
From pride, and vainer ties dissever,
And give herself to me forever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,
Nor could to-night's gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale
For love of her, and all in vain:
So, she was come through wind and rain
Be sure I looked up at her eyes
Happy and proud; at last I knew
Porphyria worshiped me; surprise
Made my heart swell, and still it grew
While I debated what to do.
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,
Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
In one long yellow string I wound
Three times her little throat around,
And strangled her. No pain felt she;
I am quite sure she felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,
I warily oped her lids: again
Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.
And I untightened next the tress
About her neck; her cheek once more
Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:
I propped her head up as before,
Only, this time my shoulder bore
Her head, which droops upon it still:
The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,
That all it scorned at once is fled,
And I, its love, am gained instead!
Porphyria's love: she guessed not how
Her darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,
And all night long we have not stirred,
And yet God has not said a word!
poem by Robert Browning from Cavalier Tunes (1842)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Brilliantine
This hair,
They never looked her way,
Never understood from where she came
And digressed on the story of the grease
In her hair.
There was none.
They never touched her face,
Looked her way,
Nor saw importance in the moment
When she needed one
To hold her hand.
Or take the time for her
When it was called for.
It was the glossy brilliantine.
And the hidden styling.
The face again,
Which had the tendency to glance away.
And the hair which had no grease.
The clear hair that shone of cleanliness
In the light of the dirty windows.
The brown hair
Giving importance to the chrome
Of her eyes.
But they never looked away,
Digressing on the story of the grease
In her hair.
poem by Sammy Edrisi
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Rain [1]
Come like a blanket to cover me
in a soft sieving mist
and even if the sun
still shines,
come fall down
from the grey sky,
hang in sparkling drops,
on the leaves of every tree,
bath the drooping willow
in a shower of spray,
let your drops in water flow
and make the black road steam,
catch me in the open
and ruffle through my hair
and let your blessing
be everywhere.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Rain
Come like a blanket to cover me
in a soft sieving mist
and even if the sun
still shines,
come fall down
from the grey sky,
hang in sparkling drops,
on the leaves of every tree,
bath the drooping willow
in a shower of spray,
let your drops in water flow
and make the black road steam,
catch me in the open
and ruffle through my hair
and let your blessing
be everywhere.
poem by Gert Strydom
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