On the square
My motorbike is at a garage for a service
and when I return from work
I cross the square
to catch a buss
in Paul Kruger street.
There are hawkers selling sweets,
fruit, newspapers
and food
and people
walking to and fro.
This afternoon he is
on holy ground
with a shouting bugle
that yells to people
not to give money
but their hearts to Jesus Christ.
I wonder what uncle Paul
would think
about the neat black preacher
who is standing right against him
and the group
that listens soberly
and see grey-blue doves
picking up crumbs of bread
and I am glad
to drive my motorbike tomorrow again.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Early morning ride
Early in the morning
hawkers are standing next to the street
and they sell flowers, newspapers,
cigarettes and sweets.
At church square two doves are pairing
on uncle Paul’s head,
while people walk to and fro
and some are in lines
to buy bus tickets
It’s another thing when you are
stressed out
and are scared,
to be late at a new job.
a Bus stands with a closed door
making fumes,
while the driver is walking around inside
and already there are a large number of people
lining up in a queue.
a Pair of love stricken young people
are holding hands
and talk about the previous nights
party and drinks
that they enjoyed
and I try to see the route
to know were I have to get off.
School children tease each other
as far as we go
and time gets wings
and rushes by
and suddenly
I have to disembark.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Grey land traveller
One day in summer
when the freeway is open,
I will take the Honda
and turn the accelerator open
until the revolution counter
touches the red.
One day I will see
what my motorbike is able to do
when I drive from here to Cape Town
with all the power that it has
and see how the speed needle
goes past the last mark.
One day I will feel
it roaring under me
and cut lightning fast
past cars, pickups and lorries
and speed will make
that it seems
as if I am coming out of the road itself
and I will be like a spectre.
One day I will really know
how much power my motorbike has
and will be part of the wind,
the sun and freedom
and the road will belong to me
and I to the road.
One day time will stop for me
and I might never reach the Cape
and will drive into the grey land
and maybe you
will read about me in the newspapers
and a motorbike
that lies in pieces for a distance of kilometres.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The trip back
The sky is grey
with ominous clouds
that whirls and churns
and there’s thick fog
hanging like a cloak
low over the earth.
The visor of my helmet
is immediately covered
by the impact
of fine drops of rain
and I open it
to be able to see
where I am travelling.
At places I have to leave the road
to clean the lenses
of my glasses
and then the motorbike
again roars with power under me,
but I have only gone a small distance
when the cars come to a halt
and I have to twist through them.
Twenty kilometres further
I come upon the accident
that is blocking the freeway
just where I have to turn off
to Benoni
and blue and red lights
flash through
the fumes of mist.
I turn the throttle open
but at places
the fog banks still hangs low
and mini buss taxis, busses and cars
appear like ghosts in front of me.
At a place a stream flows
strong like a river over the road
and although I lift my feet
and open the throttle more
to give power to the motorbike
a four by four
passes over the middle line
and throws a wall of water
right over me
and if I can get hold of that lunatic
he will surely know it.
The helmet, black leather jacket
and backpack
stops the water,
but my jean
and shoes are soaking wet
and the motorbike eats the road
and somewhat frozen
I drive to get to home,
as if Springs
is just behind the next hillock
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
There are few things in life
I
There are few things in life
that will equate,
the freedom
that you get on a motorbike.
II
Speed and power is something
that can easily grab you
and maybe you can fetch the same
adrenalin rush
if you parachute
or go down with a bungi rope,
but it’s maybe better to be part
of a iron horse
and alone with your self
and with the wind and the sun
see the road flashing by.
III
Let cars stand in rows
and busses full of unknown people
stop at many places,
while my blue motorbike
passes them
and drive to my destination.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Where the journey of life really goes
My blue honda motorbike
with a full tank of fuel
is broken
and is being repaired
and while I count my money
I see that I have enough,
but for the last journey
of the week
and I wonder how
I am going to be able
to take that ride?
At the bus stop a car guard
is watching cars
and a black woman
that needs five rand for a ticket
and is dressed elegantly
in a red work suit,
gets the money from him
and he doesn’t even know her
or wants anything in return
and its weird seeing a near beggar
giving to the prosperous.
a Bus without any sign of destination
stops in front of me
and I wonder where
this bus is going?
I cannot stay standing
at the bus stop
and I know that I must travel
on this bus.
When I get aboard
the bus looks right
and there are other people,
that I know
that also rides on it.
I tell my destination
to the driver and pay
and he gives
a ticket to me.
When I ask to where
the bus is really going,
he wants to know
to where life’s journey really goes
and my money
is placed back in my hand.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Johannesburg
There are mini-bus taxis everywhere
hooting, swerving, stopping anywhere
and people on the street
shouting to each other
as if they are not
in talking distance,
but as if everybody is deaf.
Some hawkers are selling
sweets, cigarettes and newspapers
while others are cooking maize,
porridge and eggs.
Youngsters stand next to
parking meters showing
open parking spaces
and demanding money
to watch vehicles parked there.
Some hobos sleep
in tattered blankets
and smell of wine
and liquor and the sick
sweet odour or retching.
Prostitutes walk up and down
street corners in mini skirts
and t-shirts
with nipples showing through
and have hello smiles
plastered across their faces.
Some gum sniffing children
beg at traffic lights
with twisted arms and legs
and other beggars
have posters wishing you well
or telling you to go to hell.
People queue in lines
waiting for busses
and some stand smoking
while they talk
and businessmen, lawyers,
soldiers, secretaries
are walking quickly past
with briefcases, satchels,
and handbags
and on the sidewalk
there is urine,
blood, vomit, some rotting food
and smoked cigarettes
and everywhere signs
of a city in a country
that is falling apart.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Jesus Christ
Written by Woodie Guthrie
One, two, three, four
Well Jesus was a man
Who traveled through the land
A hard working man and brave
Well he said to the rich 'Give your money to the poor'
For they layed Jesus Christ in his grave
Hale, halelujah
Hale, halelujah
Hale, halelujah
For they layed Jesus Christ is his grave
Well he went to the preacher
He went to the law
And told them all the same
He said sell all your jewelery and give it to the poor
For they layed Jesus Christ in his grave
Hale, halelujah
Hale, halelujah
Hale, halelujah
For they layed Jesus Christ in his grave
When Jesus came to town all the working folks around
Believed what he did say
Well the bankers and the preachers
They nailed him on a cross
For they layed Jesus Christ in his grave
And [hard] working people
They followed him around
They sung and shouted gay
Well the cops and the soldiers
They nailed him in the head
And they layed Jesus Christ in his grave
Oh, hale, halelujah
Hale, halelujah
Hale, halelujah
For they layed Jesus Christ in his grave
Hale, halelujah
Hale, halelujah
Hale, halelujah
For they layed Jesus Christ in his grave
Well this song was written in New York City
A rich man, preacher and slave
Well if Jesus was to preach while he preached in Galilee
They would lay Jesus Christ in his grave
One, two, three, four!
Hale, halelujah
Hale, halelujah
Hale, halelujah
For they layed Jesus Christ in his grave
Hale, halelujah
Hale, halelujah
Hale, halelujah
For they layed Jesus Christ in his grave
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Corinthian Exhortation
Paul had exhorted the Corinthians, to tap the power they had within,
This to live every day of their life, through the Power of Jesus Christ.
He said to watch with extra vigilance, in their world full of decadence,
To watch as they lived their lives, with all eyes fixed on Jesus Christ.
He said, stand fast and persevere, while living new life in Holy Fear,
Leaning on their new found faith, while fully relying on God’s Grace.
To be brave as they live each day, walking boldly in the narrow way,
Following Christ in all of His ways, as they live their life full of praise.
He said be strong in The Spirit of God, being led by His staff and rod,
As they build the character of Christ, within the very being of their life.
And to be loving in all their ways, while continuing their lives of praise,
This through the love of the cross, as they would seek to win the lost.
Also be submissive to one another, always ready to help your brother,
Through the Spirit of Jesus Christ, who gave for all men, his very life.
To greet each other with a holy kiss; today would be somewhat amiss,
But the thought was to warmly greet, each and every brother you meet.
Today in our times, much like theirs, are often filled with worldly cares,
So Friend we too must live our life, with watchful eyes on Jesus Christ.
And we need to listen to Paul’s plea, and take his instruction seriously,
For in The Spirit Paul is talking to, today’s Christians, like me and you.
(Copyright ©05/2006)
Rain drive
I see a big storm
hanging dark against the sky
and lightning bolts,
that hit smashing to the ground.
There are big drops
that hit whipping down
and the black road
wet and somewhat slippery.
There’s no way
to ride away from the storm
and the traffic
stand still in front of me,
but with a motorbike
you can cut past cars.
It’s as if clouds of steam
rise out of the hot tar road,
but the screen
of the helmet
is covered by the rain
that I have difficulty seeing
to were to go
and which cars are moving or standing.
With Soutpansberg avenue that lies open before me
I open the throttle
and there’s wind, rain
and thunders that fall flashing blue
around me
and resound somewhere behind the motorbike
and the rain on my hands
hits like hail.
.
The leather jacket keeps the top of my body dry and warm,
but the bottom
is soaked and wet
and I feel the coldness
rising from below.
There’s busses coming from the front
that throws water whipping
as far as they go
and somewhere in the left lane,
there’s cars stopping for a pothole
and my motorbike catches speed
past in the right lane.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
God’s Righteousness
God’s Righteousness was revealed, when to The Church, Paul appealed,
As he proclaimed Truth to everyone, who was saved by God’s Own Son,
Teaching every one of those, who believed in Christ, who died and rose,
Who would grant all believers in Christ, eternal hope and a righteous life.
Through Paul’s letter, Spirit Inspired, he stated righteousness is required,
From everybody on this earthly sod, who desires to please Eternal God,
As no one is righteous, no not one, except for God and His Eternal Son,
And without Him on the present path, we’ll only see His Righteous Wrath.
But, Righteousness is provided for us, when in Christ we place our trust,
Imputed to believers as they believe, when God’s Truth they truly receive,
The Righteousness of Jesus Christ, provided to all through His Sacrifice,
So we can stand before our Creator, in The Righteousness of our Savior.
God’s Righteousness is explained, from the knowledge Paul had gained,
For he was a well taught Pharisee, and he had meet The Lord of Eternity,
As Paul explains how we are justified, by Christ, who for all sinners died.
And He purifies the believer’s heart, with His blood, as they are set apart.
Paul practiced what he would preach, for the people that he would reach,
As an example for all Believers today, as they walk Christ’s Narrow Way,
While they work out their salvation, through the process of sanctification,
With our old lives for Christ crucified, we live so Christ Jesus is glorified.
(Copyright ©01/2009)
Living Soberly
God’s Grace appeared to all men, in a world that was condemned,
Teaching us to live with holy fear, as the Day of Christ draws near.
We look to our Blessed Hope, our Lord Jesus who helps us cope,
Living soberly, while on this earth, through the power of New Birth.
We live daily with Eternity in mind, in a world that can be so unkind,
As we deny all the worldly lust, while in our Savior we place all trust.
Believers must live the present life, with Godly fear for Jesus Christ,
Living lives that are transformed, to this world we’re not conformed.
Christ, who redeemed us at the cross, will purify us of worldly dross.
He shall purify us for good works, with our eyes upon Eternal perks,
Obeying Truths Paul passed down; we will receive an Eternal Crown,
One that will never fade away, when entering Heaven to forever stay.
Now working for The King of kings, His Spirit helps us do all things,
Through the power of His Throne, God purifies a people all His own,
These are the things we must teach; to all the men we need to reach,
As believers testify to every nation, in the power of God’s Salvation.
Letting no one despise us, friend, as life on earth shall one day end,
But, rebuke and admonish those, who believe in The Son, who rose.
Soon we’ll hear that trumpet sound, and raptured up to Holy ground,
To be with Jesus Christ our Lord, beyond all the clouds forevermore.
(Copyright ©07/2008)
The flags at the Pretoria news hangs limp
The flags at the Pretoria news hangs limp
hangs limp
while I walk to the bus stop
and a man with a straw hat
with a badge on it
carries a backpack
and is armoured with a leather jacket.
His white smoke clouds
curls into the morning air
and a schoolgirl,
gets a cigarette from him
and a small group
smokes with him.
a Air force officer
with a blue penguin cap
on his head
walks past like on every work day
and I wonder why he
has to be so early on his post.
I buy sweets from a street vendor
who also sells newspapers and cigarettes
and I see his fingers
counting sixteen in the cold,
before he replaces his hand
into the pockets of his coat.
The people are already
forming a hell of a long queue,
to catch a bus to Hatfield
and the air is this morning
rather grey than blue
and I wonder why
a young lady
keeps looking at me.
a Bus that looks like the right one,
stops a away at a short distance
where the driver
changes the sign
and it parks at the right place.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bus ride at night
At quarter to five
the driver refuses,
that I get on a bus
in Burnett street
because it is already full.
There are men, woman and children
and we talk various languages
while we wait for the bus
and I see a car guard
dancing in the street
while he does tricks like a clown.
We wait on the next bus
and the afternoon passes
and the bus is very late
and it stays away
and just Putco and North Star busses
stop at other places.
At dusk the bus appears
and it’s got a double deck,
but is also full
and on the top level the roof is so low
that I bump my head
while it draws from the curb.
There’s no place to sit down
before we travel halfway to the city
and there’s a crowd of people around me
and we sit tight against each other
and in the front a child is holding onto a bar
while she licks the window with her tongue
and try to draw spit lines.
The bus braids through cars,
but it takes longer than an hour
to ride two stages
and a woman calls her husband
to pick her up at church square.
In Visagie Street the cars stand in a traffic jam
and it becomes night
while we wait in the traffic
and I embark from the bus
and twist through the pedestrians
and everywhere there are people
that stand in dark corners
and alleyways
and shout at each other in foreign languages.
At Church square I see stars in the sky,
but uncle Paul looks friendly
while the lights
of a few cars passes by
and I see how his men
are protecting him
and there’s nobody else in the street
and I wonder what to do
if the last bus has already left.
I wait at night at a bus stop
and an old black man
comes and stand near me
and we are both glad,
to catch a ride
on the last bus.
The bus is lighted brightly
And it’s comfortable and hot inside
and I see the zoo passing by
just before the bus stops for me
and red lights
disappears in the distance
and the evening wind tugs at my jacket,
but my house is near.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Jerusalem, Jerusalem How Glad
Jerusalem, Jerusalem how glad
am I in prayer to have stood;
in thee blessed city at remains
of thy second temple’s walls.
Jerusalem, Jerusalem Oh how glad
am I sacred Via Dolorosa walked;
in remembrance atonement passed
stations of The Cross to have passed.
Jerusalem, Jerusalem Oh how glad
am I who before entering sacred;
Garden of Gethsemane to view aged
olive trees was cast down humbled.
For Jesus in agony fear here sweated
blood in prayer to heaven to father God;
when last among these olives he stood
thus rejoice all bowed before our Lord.
In pilgrimage to Calvary where our Lord
for my sins humanities Christ was Crucified;
where a group of witnesses Marys stood
bewailing in heart soul worship as we should.
This most Holy City Jerusalem City of our God
site of our Saviour’s Cross where our Saviour trod;
Almighty God this is thy most sacred Holy City still
at Messiah’s return here raise holy men at thy will.
The Via Dolorosa (Latin for Way of Grief or Way of Suffering) is the sacred two part street, within the Old City of Jerusalem; where Jesus walked carrying the cross, on the way to his crucifixion.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Work Prepared For Us
The Lord has work for all to do, prepared good works for me and you.
A work that is intended to Glorify, the One who on the cross had died.
Jesus’ work accomplished for all, man’s redemption from Adam’s fall.
Christ’s finished work for all of us, a work in which we place our trust.
And nothing can be added to, His work accomplished for me and you.
For salvation is a gift of Grace, secured when Jesus died in our place.
No righteous works on our part; it was all of Christ right from the start.
Christ’s finished work on that cross, alone is what saves sinners lost.
The work prepared for us you see, is to point others towards Eternity.
As God will use you in many ways, as you live out your earthly days.
God above can use most any skill, as it’s tempered by His loving will,
Pointing other men to Jesus Christ, as The Holy Spirit leads your life.
This work was prepared long before, anybody knew Christ was Lord.
An Eternal Plan by The Lord above, and centered on a cross of Love.
Where Christ Jesus paid the price, by offering Himself as a sacrifice.
For a body was prepared for Him, as the atonement for all of our sin.
Now for us the work to be done, is to lead all men to God’s Only Son.
What better work could there be, than in helping other people to see,
That The Lord Jesus died for us, and in Him we must place our trust,
So when all earthly labors cease, with Him we’ll have Eternal Peace.
(Copyright ©03/2006)
Homeward Bound
I’m going home tomorrow
by the cold grey light of dawn.
On my motorbike tomorrow
if I can beat the stirring storm.
Down cold long straights of asphalt
until mystique mountain pass.
I’m going home tomorrow
I’m homeward bound a last.
The wind! It whistles through me
icicle stabbing chilling cords
it plays along sprung spine.
Cheeks like glazed ice
nose numb and blue
from frigid mountain air.
Crisp and fresh this morning
this newborn winter’s day.
The stillness frozen
to a depth beyond mute ear.
Swerving round razored corners
leaning into wicked bends
picking off cramped cars
I’m glad that I’m not in.
Ice on the road now
black ice up ahead
just one mistake now
and I could be dead.
Riding on my luck
steadily slowing down
it’s my experiential skill alone
that kept me off cruel ground.
A hawk soars above me
she guides me on my way
white clouds puffed around her
in honour of this day.
The white lines race toward me
the fence posts flash on past
the crunch of gravel under tyres
I’m homeward bound at last.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Racing to another world
One afternoon in Bedfordview, Johannesburg
we were leaving to go to a restaurant
and were in the parking lot at work,
when a black man on a bicycle
came down the hill
in Kirkby avenue,
pedalling as if possessed
and racing to another world.
He passed the motorbike
of a Links Pharmacy delivery man
and went as fast
as a racing bicycle could go
and at the t-junction
with oxford street
took a forty five degree turn
at great speed.
The man had a blazer on
and was still pedalling
as he took the turn
and the jacket opened
on his sides like wings,
before he hit the
stone edge of the road
and went straight
into a sign warning
about a stop street up ahead.
With arms spread out
like a human scarecrow,
or a shop mannequin,
he hanged with the jacket
on the sign,
as if dead
while the bicycle somersaulted
before landing against
some white stemmed blue gum trees.
Kids playing in the park were astounded
and and the people with me
and I laughed,
while he stayed motionless
hanging in the air
and other people gathered there.
l’Envoi
Within minutes an ambulance stopped
and I started feeling guilty about laughing
while they laid him down,
tried to help him in vain,
pulled a grey blanket over his body and head
and took the bicycle along
on the ride to the morgue.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet: Pearls of Wisdom from Jesus
‘I’ve overcome the world, ’ said Jesus Christ,
‘God does not forsake, nor abandons you.’
‘Ye men of little faith, believe at first! ’
In Jesus’ name, miracles, you can do.
Christ left as hope for us, Holy Spirit;
‘Do not worry; just live right for today.’
He dwells in hearts and souls that’s grace-light lit;
Jesus Christ is the truth, and light and way!
‘Man does not live by bread alone, ’ said Christ,
‘But by each word that God utters by mouth.’
By death on cross, Jesus third day was raised
to life, and made our living on earth, worth!
‘What God hath joined, let none put asunder!
To divorce would be sin and big blunder!
(06-09-11)
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
For God So Loved The World
For God so loved the world He gave
His one and only Son,
His Holy Child who was so brave
He did what must be done...
He gave His life, His final breath
That He might be our King...
Behold Jesus of Nazareth,
To us, He's everything!
The God who made the Universe
Can hear us, none ignored
And spare us from Man's sinful curse
By Jesus Christ, the Lord...
For who else died to rescue us,
So many years ago?
He blesses us and lives though us,
If we let His love flow...
God calls us from the Devil's rule,
So we are born again,
To cast away the inner fool
That taunts us now and then...
Forsaking feelings, Christians live,
Past doubts of every kind,
Deciding we can not forgive,
But God helps change our mind...
God's plans for us are Heaven-bound,
Not finished here on Earth,
Where every demon thought is found
And proved to hold no worth...
Did Jesus brave the Cross of Christ,
So we could all be rich?
The Lamb of God was sacrificed,
To grant Mankind God's bridge!
Saint Paul believed God had a plan,
He preached from house-to-house,
In service to his fellow man,
His children and his spouse...
When whipped like Jesus Christ before,
Saint Paul still carried on.
Awaiting miracles in store,
Until his life was gone...
The Church continues to this day,
Blessed by the words Paul wrote,
Because in faith, with much to say,
He shared God's antidote...
The poor, the weak, the frail, the sad,
The lost and lonely, too,
Have found by faith they can be glad
And so, dear friend, can you.
But gladness comes as but a gift,
Something we have not earned,
So as it comes, look up and lift
Your arms with hopes still yearned,
Then pray for others, if you would,
To grant them God's relief,
So that they, too, learn God is good
And turn from disbelief...
For God so loved the world He gave
His one and only Son,
His Holy Child who was so brave
He did what must be done...
He gave His life, His final breath
That He might be our King...
Behold Jesus of Nazareth,
To us, He's everything!
poem by Denis Martindale (March 2012)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Cul de sac
At the parking
of the Ok-bazaar / Shoprite in Springs
a one-way street runs out
straight into a traffic light
that cuts a T
into two directions.
This morning the traffic light
is blocked
by a crowd of rioters
that comes from the right side,
from where I want to go.
The police block the road
to the left with a car
and some policemen walk along
with the uprising.
There’s a foreman, instigator
or head man
walking in front
and he hops up and down
and shouts something to me
and he comes straight in my direction
and it looks as if the devil is in him
with a crowd
of revolting barbarians following him.
Nobody is going to drill me
with bags of rubbish
and tree branches
or throw pieces of glass
in front of my tyres
and the light is red
and the rioters are half mad
and my motorbike has a lot of power
and its boss cannot wait.
The policeman says stop
but can hardly
look out for himself
and what about me?
I drive past
going straight for the leader
and give a lot of gas,
my motorbike
can cut fine corners,
although it’s past the back
of a police car.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!