On a hillock outside the city
On a hillock outside the city
a monument build from marble and stone
guards forevermore,
catching the sun’s
rays one new day dutifully.
It tells true stories
of a nation’s struggle to survive and be free
from oppression and a great trek
across the veldt and over high mountains,
of vicious wild men
and the belief
in the creator God
who came to aid
to save from total annihilation
when they called on Him.
[Reference: Voortrekker monument just outside Pretoria.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
Op ‘n koppie buite die stad
On a hillock outside the city
a monument build from marble and stone
guards forevermore,
catching the sun’s
rays one new day dutifully.
It tells true stories
of a nation’s struggle to survive and be free
from oppression and a great trek
across the veldt and over high mountains,
of vicious wild men
and the belief
in the creator God
who came to aid
to save from total annihilation
when they called on Him.
[Reference: Voortrekker monument just outside Pretoria.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Monument For The Soldiers
A monument for the Soldiers!
And what will ye build it of?
Can ye build it of marble, or brass, or bronze,
Outlasting the Soldiers' love?
Can ye glorify it with legends
As grand as their blood hath writ
From the inmost shrine of this land of thine
To the outermost verge of it?
And the answer came: We would build it
Out of our hopes made sure,
And out of our purest prayers and tears,
And out of our faith secure:
We would build it out of the great white truths
Their death hath sanctified,
And the sculptured forms of the men in arms,
And their faces ere they died.
And what heroic figures
Can the sculptor carve in stone?
Can the marble breast be made to bleed,
And the marble lips to moan?
Can the marble brow be fevered?
And the marble eyes be graved
To look their last, as the flag floats past,
On the country they have saved?
And the answer came: The figures
Shall all be fair and brave,
And, as befitting, as pure and white
As the stars above their grave!
The marble lips, and breast and brow
Whereon the laurel lies,
Bequeath us right to guard the flight
Of the old flag in the skies!
A monument for the Soldiers!
Built of a people's love,
And blazoned and decked and panoplied
With the hearts ye build it oft
And see that ye build it stately,
In pillar and niche and gate,
And high in pose as the souls of those
It would commemorate!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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You’re in another country called Cape Town
I peer at a city
while the rain is pouring down
and see blue-white thunder
falling from the sky
while dark clouds are milling up high
blown by storm winds
and the smell of rain
rises fresh from the earth
and my thoughts loiter
and I know where I am
and you’re in far off Cape Town
and I in my Pretoria.
Below me I see the zoo
and a city stretched out
in clear squares,
great buildings among statues
and gardens,
and on a hill
the sacred place of a nation
and you’re in far off Cape Town
and I in my Pretoria.
The houses in the suburb
are build for the summer heat
with verandas and big rooms,
with yellowwood floors,
with fans in the ceilings
and yards as big as parks
and trees with purple blue blossoms
lining every street
and you’re in far off Cape Town
and I in my Pretoria.
I hear a crowd roaring
in the stadium near to the university
for their rugby team to win
and everywhere blue flags are waving
and some faces are painted blue
and some heads have caps
with horns thrusting into the air
and you’re in far off Cape Town
and I in my Pretoria.
On the other side of the mountain
avocado and some tropical trees grow
and here I stand in the hero’s acre
among the fallen great
and to Andries Pretorius
I offer my salute
and in church square
my eyes stare
at the statue of uncle Paul
who still faces north
now turning green
and you’re in another country called Cape Town
and I in my Pretoria.
[Reference: To -. Composed at Rotterdam by Thomas Hood.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Ballade Of Cleopatra's Needle
Ye giant shades of RA and TUM,
Ye ghosts of gods Egyptian,
If murmurs of our planet come
To exiles in the precincts wan
Where, fetish or Olympian,
To help or harm no more ye list,
Look down, if look ye may, and scan
This monument in London mist!
Behold, the hieroglyphs are dumb
That once were read of him that ran
When seistron, cymbal, trump, and drum
Wild music of the Bull began;
When through the chanting priestly clan
Walk'd Ramses, and the high sun kiss'd
This stone, with blessing scored and ban -
This monument in London mist.
The stone endures though gods be numb;
Though human effort, plot, and plan
Be sifted, drifted, like the sum
Of sands in wastes Arabian.
What king may deem him more than man,
What priest says Faith can Time resist
While THIS endures to mark their span -
This monument in London mist?
ENVOY.
Prince, the stone's shade on your divan
Falls; it is longer than ye wist:
It preaches, as Time's gnomon can,
This monument in London mist!
poem by Andrew Lang
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Herman Altman
Did I follow Truth wherever she led,
And stand against the whole world for a cause,
And uphold the weak against the strong?
If I did I would be remembered among men
As I was known in life among the people,
And as I was hated and loved on earth,
Therefore, build no monument to me,
And carve no bust for me,
Lest, though I become not a demi-god,
The reality of my soul be lost,
So that thieves and liars,
Who were my enemies and destroyed me,
And the children of thieves and liars,
May claim me and affirm before my bust
That they stood with me in the days of my defeat.
Build me no monument
Lest my memory be perverted to the uses
Of lying and oppression.
My lovers and their children must not be dispossessed of me;
I would be the untarnished possession forever
Of those for whom I lived.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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I am from Pretoria
Notwithstanding the way
that the country and world goes,
I still want to stand for many years
in the streets with purple-blue
Jacaranda trees.
Let my friends go and live
in London, New York,
Amsterdam and Sydney
but in Pretoria I earn my keep
and no other city
calls me away from my fatherland
since only Pretoria
is right for me.
I am from Pretoria,
a place where princes stay
and if you go to Pretoria
you will find many Afrikaner princes there.
In Pretoria noble Afrikaners are everywhere
and they build their lives
in the right way
and like their ancestors,
still cling to the hand
of the Almighty God.
poem by Gert Strydom
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City of Pretoria
Our pride stem
You are named after
Opportunist and racist
Voortrekker leader Andries Pretorius
And now non-racial democratic and prosperous City
Welcome to home of procurement policies
Multi- cultural and multi- racial City
Unisa and Medunsa are in you
I boldly know that
You are better for living
So clean and leaning on Mountains
Africans gathers in you like ants heap
To dig your gold
I've seen a beautiful Pedi Girl
Great Sekhukhune and Tshwane
Dwelled in you neighborhoods
Lights like heavenly streets
Number one in none and world class city
A home of parastatals
And a pillar of economy
Welcome to Pretoria
Tsheane ya Mamelodi
poem by Jacques Sprenkie Mateya
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Statue Got Me High
The statue got me high
The statue got me high
A monument of granite sent a beam into my eye
The statue made me die
The statue made me die
It took my hand it killed me and it threw me to the sky
The stone it called to me
(and now I see the things the stone has shown to me)
A rock that spoke a word
(an animated mineral it can be heard)
And though I once preferred a human being's company
they pale before the monolith that towers over me
The statue got me high
The statue got me high
The truth is where the sculptor's chisel chipped away the lie
The statue made me fry
The statue made me fry
My coat contained a furnace where there used to be a guy
The stone it called to me
(and now I see the things the stone has shown to me)
A rock that spoke a word
(an animated mineral it can be heard)
And as the screaming fire engine siren filled the air
the evidence had vanished from my charred and smoking chair
and what they found was just a statue
standing where the statue got me high
And now it is your turn
(your turn to hear the stone and then your turn to burn)
The stone it calls to you
(you can't refuse to do the things it tells you to)
And as the screaming fire engine siren fills the air
the evidence will vanish from your charred and smoking chair
and what they found was just a statue
standing where the statue got me high
and what they'll find is just a statue
standing where the statue got you high
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Statue Got Me High
The statue got me high
The statue got me high
The monument of granite sent a beam into my eye
The statue made me die
The statue made me die
It took my hand it killed me and it turned me to the sky
The stone it called to me
(and now I see the things the stone has shown to me)
A rock that spoke a word
(an animated mineral it can be heard)
And though I once preferred a human beings company
They pale before the monolith that towers over me
The statue got me high
The statue got me high
The truth is where the sculptors chisel chipped away the lie
The statue made me fry
The statue made me fry
My coat contained a furnace where there used to be a guy
The stone it called to me
(and now I see the things the stone has shown to me)
A rock that spoke a word
(an animated mineral it can be heard)
And as the screaming fire engine siren filled the air
The evidence had vanished from my charred and smoking chair
And what they found was just a statue
Standing where the statue got me high
And what they found was just a statue
Standing where the statue got me high
And now it is your turn
(your turn to hear the stone and then your turn to burn)
The stone it calls to you
(you cant refuse to do the things it tells you to)
And as the screaming fire engine siren fills the air
The evidence will vanish from your charred and smoking chair
And what they found was just a statue
Standing where the statue got me high
And what theyll find is just a statue
Standing where the statue got you high
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hymn 43
Oh father high in heaven -- smile down upon your son
Whose busy with his money games -- his women and his gun.
Oh jesus save me!
And the unsung western hero killed an indian or three
And made his name in hollywood
To set the white man free.
Oh jesus save me!
If jesus saves -- well, hed better save himself
From the gory glory seekers who use his name in death.
Oh jesus save me!
I saw him in the city and on the mountains of the moon --
His cross was rather bloody --
He could hardly roll his stone.
Oh jesus save me!
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I started studying what the nature of a monument is and what a monument should be. And for the World War III memorial I designed a futile, almost terrifying passage that ends nowhere.
Death comes to all, but great achievements build a monument which shall endure until the sun grows cold.
quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The first city
The great hunter Nimrod
was a mighty leader of men
who ripped beasts and lions
apart with his bare hands
and he led them out of the mountains
and on the wide open plain of Shinar
they made a city fair
calling it Babylon
and men build a great tower there
from baked bricks plastered with
asphalt and bitumen
trying to reach to the sky
their Ziggurat was rising high.
They tried to build a gate to God
and they believed that no god
would be able to touch them there,
where it rose up in stepped stages
but the Lord came down
and lighting fell from the sky
hitting the tower again and again
and it stood burning
in unquenchable flames.
[Reference: Genesis 11: 1-9. Asphalt and bitumen = tar.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Voortrekker (in answer to Tony Harrison)
A track from a kraal
goes direct into the veldt
decked in blood
from the remains of cattle.
The sick Boer walks alone,
now abandoned of dog,
children, farm labourers
with a.303 rifle wavering in his hands.
Somewhere in dense green bushes
in front of him to the right
lions roar and at speed
one, two and three more
appear with tails flashing like whips.
The rifle is still wavering in his hands
but an expert eye finds the sight
with the trigger at his finger tip,
the exploding sound of bullet after bullet
are followed by a whack and some great roars
and the lions are no more
and like his fathers protected in God’s hand,
although outnumbered many times
by natives and wild beasts
stand a lonely believing man.
[Reference: Voortrekker by Tony Harrison.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Fever Monument
I walked across the park to the fever monument.
It was in the center of a glass square surrounded
by red flowers and fountains. The monument
was in the shape of a sea horse and the plaque read
We got hot and died.
poem by Richard Brautigan
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Tourist attraction. for M' lady Denise
A hanging stone on the high tor.
Is balancing precariously.
A well known curiosity
Which may well last for evermore.
It has defied the elements.
We think for many centuries
and barring any accident
It will remain place to tease.
The pessimists who are quite sure
The day will come when it must fall.
The hanging stone is a treasure
Which belongs to one and all.
The hanging stone on the high tor
A monument you can’t ignore.
Sunday,18 July 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Wild n Free
(ian hunter)
Wild n free wild n free
Wild n free wild n free
Oh! Id never known what it was like to free
I always thought it was never true
I got a feeling I was lost in space
Did not like my face
Just wanted to be
Wild n free wild n free
Like a hurricane
Wild n free wild n free
Oh insanitys so insane
Wild n free wild n free
I aint got no got no got no name
Wild n free wild n free
Dont want no ball and chain
Damn people telling me that I was thinking bad
Had me believing they was right
All they wanted was another slob
In some stinking job
That just aint me I just want to be
W w w wild n free wild n free
Like a hurricane
Wild n free wild n free
Oh insanitys so in so insane
Wild n free wild n free
I aint got no name
Wild n free wild n free
I dont I dont want to know a ball and chain
Just then I found out I was too broke to get out
So I took to the road no one was having me
I said dont want no handouts
Cause Im making out
You aint like me I just want to be
Uh uh uh wild n free
I tried to tell you babe but you never understood
I always tried to make you see
But you believed just what your old man said
He had you chained to his head
And its on tv tv tv tv
Want to be want to be want to be
Wild n free wild n free
Like a hurricane
Wild n free wild n free
Oh insanitys so insane
Wild n free wild n free
I aint got no got no got no name
Wild n free wild n free
Dont want no ball and chain
Wild n free wild n free
Just like a ball a ball a ball of fire
Wild n free wild n free
Like it high its getting higher
Wild n free wild n free
Like some bolt from out the sky
Wild n free wild n free
Like some bullett
Say goodbye
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wild and Free
Untameable that's me
Hold on fast
Or I will out run you by far
Wild and free
It's who I am
They called me gypsy
With crystal ball
But that's not me
Dancing around camp fires
Jingling anklets
Wild and free
Yeah, that's me
Enjoying the open spaces
Sleeping under the stars
With the moon as my companion
Wild and free
That's me
If you can't keep up
Then I will come and get you
And drag you along
Wild and free
Let's climb the highest mountains
And allow our spirits to fly
Wild and free
Come with me
Be yourself
And be free
poem by Persian Khushi
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Regretful Times
the doors open into the room a fulfilled life and a lot to regret for the
summers rays and winters cold and not regretful
i will not survive sombody will save me
the damaged style and damaged skin is peeling off and burning within the
tearful eyes and drowning frowns soon collides and now it meets its destination
i will not survive somebody save me
the passion times theres not many through im down on luck and theres too many
to remember the brocken dreams and broken thoughts my heads up high and i wont survive
i will not survive somebody save me
song performed by by Crossbreed from Synthetic Division
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New York City is a great monument to the power of money and greed... a race for rent.
quote by Frank Lloyd Wright
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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