Remembrance
As a child I saw the sun
hanging over the marsh,
when it caught the first red rays.
In that marsh land
long-tailed widow-birds
glided deeper into the reeds.
Plover’s pretending
to have broken wings,
tried to entice me away
from their nests.
In life’s marsh
there were enemy soldiers
that was stone-dead,
while I had hidden deeper
into the reeds.
Groups of enemy patrols
cut past following the river,
to find my comrades and I.
Every time that the sun
hanged new over the reeds,
the enemy became less
and the chance to catch us diminished
and mosquitoes swarmed around me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Marsh Land
The nearer I come to the wild marsh land
the more I hear red-knobbed coots carolling
where a swarm of tiny weavers twitter,
rocking and balancing on the long reeds,
cheerfully the meandering stream jabbers
while it shines in the bright morning light
next to the big old hanging willow tree,
where a symphony of nature resounds.
Marsh bulrushes rocks plumed in the wind
that blows softly through the bushes of sprouts,
somewhat blinded by the natural beauty
I wander like a child through all the reeds,
drops of water jet when wild ducks fly up,
with rushes suddenly rocking up and down.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The guard
We were observing, doing recognisance
on a enemy camp, had parachuted in
during the night, dropping from very high
and my comrades and I had leopard crawled,
catwalked from dark patch to dark patch,
from shadow to shadow
using the cover of knee high grass
and with the sun rising
was in a dense small bush
reporting back on tanks and armoured cars,
the number of soldiers seen,
how battle ready they seemed
when a little boy herded a few goats
and with a bone thin dog came along
and I let them go, not being able
to kill them as the enemy
and almost immediately we had to leave.
Soon hundreds of enemy soldiers
were dropped in search lines,
were trying to cordon us off
and my comrades wasn’t pleased with me,
as things could have been much easier
if I had killed that child
and we went into a river
cutting reeds to breathe through
and went under the surface
trying to shake off the enemy
that was closing in on us
and when the three of us left the river
some large crocodiles
were on the bank where we entered it
and we had the opportunity
to return to the enemy camp
where the next evening
an enemy Cuban soldier lit a big cigar
only a few paces from me
and the child was a far better guard than he.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The tale of the sparkling white river
At the sparkling white river
that cuts its way through the earth,
some green reeds grew in bushes into the water.
Tranquillity and the magic
of water, sun and wind
was the spirit that dwelt in the reeds.
a Really ugly god appeared and started to cry,
as no beautiful nymph
would set an eye on him.
He washed his face in the water
to try and transfix some of its healing magic
to himself and washed his face again,
but the image reflected upon the gentle pool
remained the same
and deeper into the water he went.
Half blind by his crying,
he stumbled into the reeds
and walk still deeper in,
to hide away from the creatures
that lived upon the water
and dwelt in the sparkling stream.
There was power in his tears
and where they fell upon the reeds,
they were cut from the stems.
To Pan on that day,
the river and the reeds
came as a blessing.
With reeds in his hands
he walked to the shore
and the setting and sounds did something to him.
He cut the reeds into pipes
of different lengths
with notches and holes
and blew life in to them
and to this very day,
that instrument bears his name.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Blueflags
I stopped the car
to let the children down
where the streets end
in the sun
at the marsh edge
and the reeds begin
and there are small houses
facing the reeds
and the blue mist in the distance
with grapevine trellises
with grape clusters
small as strawberries
on the vines
and ditches
running springwater
that continue the gutters
with willows over them.
The reeds begin
like water at a shore
their pointed petals waving
dark green and light.
But blueflags are blossoming
in the reeds
which the children pluck
chattering in the reeds
high over their heads
which they part
with bare arms to appear
with fists of flowers
till in the air
there comes the smell
of calmus
from wet, gummy stalks.
poem by William Carlos Williams
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The Swan Song
Now I'm getting all fluffy for Bedtime Stories, this is how I see the Ugly Duckling in a Poem form, and I hope I do justice to the timeless classic by Hans Christian Anderson.
Do you remember?
The story of the
Ugly little bird
It was picked on
And trodden on because
Its plumage was plain
It grew up alone
Thinking it was
To clumsy to play
It watched with a tear
Alone and afraid
As winters and summers
Passed its lone life
It grew up with fear
And lived all alone
Accepting its life
It grew up that way
In the reeds of the marsh
But then one day
Hiding behind
The reeds of the marsh
It watched a swan land
In migration to pass
Graceful and pure
It bowed its handsome head
With grandeur and pride
He cocked his head held high
He swam to thro
To attract a new wife
And then just beyond
Behind the tall marsh reeds
He spotted the beauty
Alone and afraid
And it stopped in its wake
To bow its head
Just once more
At the confused ugly duckling
Behind the reeds of the mash
Taken by surprise
It cried in confusion of fear
Why do you mock me?
With your head so low
That only happens
When taking a wife
Said swan to the duckling
Its head still bowed low
Your beauty is wonder
Come now be my wife
Shaking its head
In cried in its rage
I am not a beauty
I cannot be your wife
Slowly it lifted
Its fine handsome head
Then said to the duckling
Look yonder my beauty
At your reflection ahead
Then looking at ripples
Where its teardrops fell
The ugly little duckling
Saw a swan instead
The handsome young swan
Once more bowed its head
I beseech thee my beauty
Be my wife, be my friend
Now a young swan
And duckling no more
It ruffled its feather
Its plumage snow white
Then bowing with tears
Her beauty so bright
Together they flew
As husband and wife
poem by Kaila George
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While Johnny and his section is on patrol
An artist paints a bushy landscape,
paints colours of a setting sun
with fleecy clouds hanging in the blue sky
while Johnny and his section is on patrol.
The canvass has a river where shots rang out,
an angry crocodile that tries to catch him,
black coots fly up and Johnny feels afraid,
when a trooper detonates a landmine,
three riflemen cover his position,
the enemy shoot with tracer bullets that draw lines,
they are caught unexpectedly by Johnny's return fire,
and flee from the very start of the fire-fight
with a wounded comrade that longs for God,
Johnny's men are brave and capable,
a soldier is shot to smithereens, lies droopy like a doll,
some distance away a hissing snake slithers,
to vomit is an unstoppable urge;
down at the marsh a long-tailed widow-bird flies.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The marsh
Barefoot at times I walk through the marsh,
having to dodge plovers
diving down at me,
widow-birds are trying to draw my attention
with long tails that looks
as if they are too heavy to fly
and in the reeds something is moving
as if some animal is hiding there
and when I come closer
a water monitor
comes out hissing
hitting challenging with its tail
and everywhere yellow and read finches
are flying around
the oaks are full of wooing doves
and there’s a wild cat
looking down from a tree.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Down At The Marsh
Down at the marsh
weavers rock up and down,
down at the marsh
your lips are soft against mine
when a big dog barks far away
and your right knee has lost some skin
down at the marsh.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Segregation
to make myself special is a sad thing,
for i may then be segregated
away from you, and i cannot take in all the sadness
let me just be an ordinary frog on that clear pond
blessed by so much rain
croaking happily with you
i do not need so much land
neither the sun
for with you, the moon and the marsh
and the reeds
are good enough,
let us have this good time swimming together
beside the tadpoles
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When I was a child
When I was a child
I saw fireflies,
fly passing secretly at night.
The world was full of wonderful things
and there were trees
with bird nests and eggs
of white and pink and blue
and with spots on them.
I could shoot a true shot with my kettie
and the blue fishing rod
took carp, blue kurper, yellowfish
and catfish from streams.
Doves or fish fillets
from glowing wood embers,
tasted delicious
and the world was a great place.
At the marsh plovers jumped up and down
and like wounded birds, as if with a broken wing
tried to entice you away from their nests
Aloe and protea bushes were all over the kopjes
and prickly pear, wild peach, mispil and stamvrugte
were everywhere on the ridges.
The world of a child faded away with time.
But when I went back as a adult;
a highway runs right through the hillocks
and there are houses where there was marsh
and the streams are full of rubbish and litter
and I see how progress has destroyed nature.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Living With The Enemy
I gave you all that you wanted
and still you come back for more
You say that you're brokenhearted
but then you walk out the door
Maybe it is time for us to say goodbye
Where are the tears you never cried?
Hey baby what you got on your mind
are you looking for some sympathy?
I can tell you if it's a truth or a lie
'Cos it's just like living,
living with the enemy
You got me going in circles,
I'm slowly loosing my head
What did I do to deserve this,
you make me wish I was dead
Tell me I'm wrong and I'll be on my way
See you around another day
Hey baby what you doin' tonite?
Are you giving me the perfect dream
I'm so tired and I don't wanna fight
'Cos it's just like living,
living with the enemy, enemy
Living with the enemy, living with the enemy, enemy
Living with the enemy,enemy
Living with the enemy, living with the enemy, enemy
song performed by by Ozzy Osbourne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Relearning
let not us be a currency of fixed value
there is no such thing
even a coin or
a stamp
you must have known by now
what nature is, what we are, and
where we are going?
reeds on the marsh
lilies floating on the river
a flower that one day lives
and then tomorrow dies...
on the other hand
are the seeds and cuttings and
grafts...
tight lipped buds still wanting to speak
listen!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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By the Pool of the Third Rosses
I heard the sighing of the reed
In the grey pool in the green land,
The sea-wind in the long reeds sighing
Between the green hill and the sand.
I heard the sighing of the reeds
Day after day, night after night;
I heard the whirring wild ducks flying,
I saw the sea-gull's wheeling flight.
I heard the sighing of the reeds
Night after night, day after day,
And I forgot old age, and dying,
And youth that loves, and love's decay.
I heard the sighing of the reeds
At noontide and at evening,
And some old dream I had forgotten
I seemed to be remembering.
I hear the sighing of the reeds:
Is it in vain, is it in vain
That some old peace I had forgotten
Is crying to come back again?
poem by Arthur Symons
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I'm My Own Enemy
From now on I'm dancing with myself
To the sound of a blue and broken string
Left behind with a dust upon a shelf
The remains of a long forgotten song
All that we had but now again
I stand alone all love has an end
You cannot see this is my destiny
I'm my own enemy
In my life there wsw no-one like you
You cannot see this is my reality
I'm my own enemy
In my life there was no'one like you
From now on I'm sleeping with my shadow
In the night my thoughts can be my own
All the pain and all this endless sorrow
I miss you more than I will ever know
Holding you never again
It cannot be all love has an end
You cannot see this is my destiny
I'm my own enemy
In my life there was no-one like you
You cannot see this is my reality
I'm my own enemy
In my life there was no'one like you
Now I know there is no-one tha is waiting
At the end of that long and widing road
Memories in the dead of night are calling
All the way I carry on my heavy load
All that we had but now again
I stand alone all love has an end
You cannot see this is my destiny
I'm my own enemy
In my life there was no-one like you
You cannot see this is my reality
I'm my own enemy
In my life there was no'one like you
song performed by by Yngwie Malmsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm My Own Enemy
From now on I'm dancing with myself
To the sound of a blue and broken string
Left behind with a dust upon a shelf
The remains of a long forgotten song
All that we had but now again
I stand alone all love has an end
You cannot see this is my destiny
I'm my own enemy
In my life there wsw no-one like you
You cannot see this is my reality
I'm my own enemy
In my life there was no'one like you
From now on I'm sleeping with my shadow
In the night my thoughts can be my own
All the pain and all this endless sorrow
I miss you more than I will ever know
Holding you never again
It cannot be all love has an end
You cannot see this is my destiny
I'm my own enemy
In my life there was no-one like you
You cannot see this is my reality
I'm my own enemy
In my life there was no'one like you
Now I know there is no-one tha is waiting
At the end of that long and widing road
Memories in the dead of night are calling
All the way I carry on my heavy load
All that we had but now again
I stand alone all love has an end
You cannot see this is my destiny
I'm my own enemy
In my life there was no-one like you
You cannot see this is my reality
I'm my own enemy
In my life there was no'one like you
song performed by by Yngwie Malmsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Egyptian Geese
Copper brown Egyptian geese are in the marsh,
they call from the plumed reeds
and they leave flat tracks in the clay
when they walk past in a small group
and I hear them from far of on the porch
when the pond resound with their voices
just their at the old sunken sloop
where I notice the sun shining on the water,
how they suddenly fly up and spread
as they avoid a dog that is running loose.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Original - Time, My Worst Enemy
Time, My Worst Enemy
Keeping me away from you
Time, My Worst Enemy
Moving slowly when we’re apart
Time, My Worst Enemy
Fleeting when you are near
Time, My Worst Enemy
Battling with it daily
Time, My Worst Enemy
Stealing moments from the clock
Time, My Worst Enemy
Until you are in my arms again
Time, My Worst Enemy
Rapidly chasing us down
Time, My Worst Enemy
He will not take you this time
Time, My Worst Enemy
You are in my arms to stay
Time, My Worst Enemy
Has Lost!
What an ememy won't
a enemy won't help you in a fight
a friend is there wether you're wrong or right
a enemy wont catch you if you fall
a friend is someone you can always call
a enemy doesn't care if you feel sad
...a friend is there thru good and bad
a enemy is not a friend hes fake
a friend will give but not take
a enemy to hurt you will always find a way
but a friend will always be there until your last day
poem by Conan Edogawa
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The air was full of fire and sand
The night that I wished to be home
as the path we were on
lead to death
and not like the axiom to Rome
behind enemy lines
we called in the vultures of death
and the chill froze my breath
in clouds in the bright moonlight,
followed the mist from the river
penetrating ever deeper
into the enemy positions
we hid almost in their midst
and with the rising sun
eerie birds came screeching down
with flaming afterburners
dropping rockets and bombs
on enemy tanks,
shelling armoured cars
with raging canon
and the air was full
of fire and sand.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Avenue C
BY B. CLAYTON, J HENDRICKS AND D. LAMBERT
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Brass: N. Y. I dig
Reeds: What about it?
Brass: N. Y. is big
Reeds: People tout it
Brass: I flip my wig
Reeds: What about?
Brass: 'Bout a street I dig
Piano (Basie's solo): One day I was walkin' n'
Finally came upon a series of alphabet streets
A-B-C and D, but I went for "C"
The most of the hard-to-forget streets
It's really and truly the dilly of all m'pet streets
Tenor sax: Hey, hey, hey everybody now
Brass: Come go walkin' with me now
Walk up avenue C now
Chicks all lookin' so pretty
They don't give me no pity
Avenue C is the grooviest in the city
Tenor sax: I never dug an avenue so enjoyable to me
"C" Avenue is groovy
Yes it was groovy as it could be
Brass: Walk with me down Avenue C
Tenor sax: Man I really hope to say
Brass: Come on baby, while we ramble
Walk beside me while we ramble
Tenor sax: You dig it too I feel you do
What a scenic hike
It's a walk that you're bound to like
Brass: Y'got "B" on the one side
Reeds: "A"
Brass: "D" on the other
Reeds: "B"
Brass: "C" in the middle
Reeds: "C"
Brass and Reeds: Baby!
Trumpet: The reason that you're feelin' so down, babe
Is 'cause you live in Stuyvesant Town, babe
I dug you down in Hamilton Fish, babe
And realized that you were my dish, babe
Walkin' home and you can walk with me
Walkin' hand in hand up Avenue C, Oh babe
And while we're walkin' we can do some talkin'
While the people dig us wonderin' what we're puttin' down
While we, happy as we can be, glide on
Takin' life in stride up to Murphy Park there beside the river
Brass: Well our feet got rhythm
Reeds: Pure pedal syncopation
Brass: 'N when we walk with 'em
Reeds: Demandin' admiration
Brass: Well our step is snappy
Reeds: Dig people step aside now
Brass: Because we're so happy
Reeds: We're takin' life in stride now
Brass: Avenue C your vibrations are followin' me. Oh yes
Reeds: Everybody busily lookin'
Brass: Yes yes
Reeds: Me and baby steadily cookin'
Brass: Yes yes
Reeds: Start at one end talkin' and movin'
Brass: Yes yes
Reeds: To the other wiggin' and groovin'
Brass: So come
Reeds: You should
Brass: And view
Reeds: I would
Brass: This Ave-
Reeds: You could
Brass: Venue
Reeds: It's good
Brass: Walk on
Reeds: "C" Avenue, see it my way
Brass: Talk on
Reeds: No better view on a highway
Ensemble: Big town you don't know 'till you see it
Brass: Walk on
Reeds: I never saw such a wonderful sight
Drum break
Ensemble: You're gonna love it
Break
Brass: I'm hip, you'll flip
Reeds: When you dig it you'll stop and linger
Brass: You'll pop your top
Reeds: What a pleasure and what a swinger
Ensemble: Go dig it cop that view it's bound to thrill you
(Come on, come on, go)
Go dig it cop that view it's bound to thrill you
(Come on, come on, now, go)
Go dig it cop that view it's bound to thrill you
Go dig it cop that view it's bound to thrill you
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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