En.Citatepedia^®.ro

To someone that I loved

I. The odours of jasmine

The odours of jasmine, gardenia
and lavender sneaks in
through the room’s window
and it smells like a perfumery

while rays upon rays march over the bed
climbing over your arms, body and legs
while we lie stretched out
close to each other,

ignoring the sounds from the street,
where cars rush by,
the barks of the dogs
yelping at passing strangers,

only when you wake up,
I draw the curtains shut
as we feel the coldness of twilight
and join in body and soul.

II. On the porch we watch the setting sun

On the porch we watch the setting sun,
while sweet St. Anna wine
sparkles in our glasses
and there’s an intimacy,
a type of tranquillity

in the experience of early evening
while lights shine yellow and white in the distance,
the bottom of the clouds is almost ruby-red,
the black are already darkening some clouds,
while other remains snowy-white

the darkness catches us
with a full yellow moon
and like naughty children
we sneak into our house,
we sneak into our own bedroom

while joy foams like champagne
we are very intimately together
melting into one body
and while your hand later
still caress my back like a butterfly

barely touching here and there
I realise that you are the best part of me,
with your soft sweet lips
barely touching my cheek,
your hot breath against my body.

III. While the night is being born

While the night is being born,
the darkness sneaks into our house,
sneaks into our bedroom,
a sudden breeze begins blowing

far off against the horizon
near to the Magaliesberg mountains
blue-white streaks of thunder
flashes like canon fire

while we can smell
the scent of rain, of wet earth
on the breeze that is blowing stronger,
tossing the small potato trees to and thro

your face is full of terror
in the light of a lightning bolt
falling just outside of the window
and your eyes look big and white

while I cuddle you close to me
and your arms enfold, wrap around me drawing
me still closer and suddenly
the night is chilly

while big drops of rain pound down,
splashing until the rain pours like a torrent
and we find comfort in each other
melting with passion into one another.

IV. The alarm clock wakes me

The alarm clock wakes me
while it’s still twilight
and with the falling rain
the early morning is still dark
as if the night is lingering.

Outside the large jacaranda trees
wave in the storm wind
dropping purple-blue flowers
like a shower of confetti
and the street gleams

while cars drive past splashing
water in a spray
and we have to get ready
for the new day
and quite lazily you stretch out,

drawing me back to bed,
drawing me close to you,
drawing me into your warmth
while our lips, bodies and limbs
intertwine to become one.

V. We agree to meet for lunch

We agree to meet for lunch
in a restaurant just off church street
on a autumn day
on the twentieth of May

and you are smiling,
lifting a glass of red champagne,
when so near that we can feel the wind of it
a tremendous explosion erupts shattering,

shattering the innocent people in Church Street
with deadly sharp pieces of glass and concrete
and I pull you down to the ground
as we take cover behind the small table

where we were eating,
the air is suddenly full
with the sound of people
screaming in pain and terror

and as we rush out,
going into Church Street
and there’s blood and guts everywhere
with terrified, screaming, mutilated
and wounded people

where ever we look
and you cry in relieve of escape,
in sheer terror and shock
and the world has gone amok.

poem by Gert Strydom
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In The Time That It Takes To Park A Cream Coloured Car

On a autumn day in the time
that it takes to park a cream coloured car
a devastating ball of fire, of flame
detonates shattering
in Church Street, Pretoria
on the twentieth of May nineteen eighty three

causing shrapnel to fly down in the street
splintering, scattering
flying, piercing glass
from all the buildings facing the street
in a deadly shimmering rain

murdering, maiming blowing to bits
the innocent civilian men, women and children
passing by in the street

for a political cause
giving a loud hell of a bang
of a applause
as if the whole of humanity
has gone insane
leaving blood, guts, body parts
and the survivors in terrible pain.

poem by Gert Strydom
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In Darkness

I

The twilight is framed and covered in black,
drawn closed on the one side,
when suddenly it carries blue-white thunder
that burns sparking, it's deadly risky,
where no sign of any moon
rise up against the closed night sky,
there are only thunder flashes hitting flickering
without a sign of the Southern Cross
and still the earth waits on drops of rain
to start their irrigation
when a shower continuously patters down,
seeping into the deep ground,
thunderbolts reports constantly
while twilight falls silver over the beach.

II

While twilight falls silver over the beach
the neon lights of the night glitter,
cut-off from the whole universe
as if each one is waiting for discovery
and it's as if the backwash wants to
pull you deeper into the sea,
in the space where the great ocean stretches
and there is something in each dream and wish
like that Wide Ocean unlimited
that waits free without any bonds,
as if each day and night
works together in a perfect balance,
as if the darkness keeps you for moments,
here where the dark night now folds around me.

III

Here where the dark night now folds around me.
I hear your steps coming closer
the wild wind jerks some of the windows open,
in thunder I am stripped from you
and grief will after years have an impact
that still strips me down roughly
from reason and all kinds of hope,
to keep you against me once more.
The much deeper pain of only being human
does not want to subside in my heart, in my soul,
and sometimes like now with full fury
it becomes real in each thought, in fear,
outside purity is in everything,
as if the white street light shines with sympathy.

IV

As if the white street light shines with sympathy
the city lies stretched out in the distance
as if it is a gigantic spaceship
that continually draws people to it
of which the lights flash on and off
when travellers in their cars come near,
bright lights are seen from a distance
while people gather at many places.
At places the lights are blinding
where people revel at each kind of place
or as if it wants to takeoff with a wild wind
while the darkness of the city stretches out wide,
I wonder where people go soulless;
it's night with a very small crescent moon.

V

It's night with a very small crescent moon
that hangs somewhat shameful in the darkness,
at places shadows catch my eyes,
with popular branches swishing about,
I can swear something is following me for a while,
somewhere something hisses like a cat or snake,
I stretch my steps and am far too scared
to look back or now to stop walking,
it's as if something is suddenly blowing in my neck,
now I am afraid, my arm hairs raise
and I hear the churchyard gate moaning shrilly
while I am in a much greater hurry,
against my back there's a cold shiver,
with open eyes I pray for God to protect me.

VI

With open eyes I pray for God to protect me,
see some old tramps standing around a fire
when a black cat suddenly moans next to me,
while I see coals with flames rising.
It's only a big cat moving next to me
and I bend down and stroke it gently,
it's no unearthly kind of thing
as I had imagined,
above us stars are blazing the night full,
prostitutes triple on like display-dolls,
on the horizon lights are red, yellow and white
one whistles at me while I pass them,
three stand astride arguing with each other,
one girl draws up her blouse and I walk past.

VII

One girl draws up her blouse and I walk past,
I see breasts in their finest detail,
wonder how people live in this godless city,
every thing is getting worse than it had been.
I am alone and almost late
to get bread and milk at the Spar
and I cross the busy street,
hear them call in a choir at me
where one of the girls pulls her skirt up
showing her legs and a white panty,
trying her best to arouse desires,
I catch the smell of vinegar, chips and aniseed
while she begs: Come along with me;
the twilight is framed and covered in black.

poem by Gert Strydom
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When The Sun Was Throwing Its Last Rays On The Earth

When the sun was throwing its last rays on the earth,
your hand found mine at twilight,
the evening sky was suddenly smudged by blood

while the evening-wind was softly scattering sand,
while people hurried home from their jobs
and something in your glance had drawn me closer to you

and when suddenly lightning bolts were falling
we found shelter
against thunderbolts sounding ominous,
against the wild stormy wind

we stood for long moments in each other’s arms
while the rain were pattering down, while the storm quieted down
with the clouds suddenly drawing open
and the moon’s rays falling magically about us.

poem by Gert Strydom
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In The Distance Lightning Is Falling

In the distance lightning is falling
while you lie close to me
and on the wind
blowing into the room
I can smell the rain
and see in the distance
how the flashing light looks pure white
but we have tranquillity,
where in you maybe a new person is originating
while the storm sneaks nearer and nearer,
bringing new life to the dried out yellow grass.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Shattered windows, Colors of white

Across the street is a new house with a room painted red, with no holes of white.
Next to me, a house purple, with its color pealing off, with holes of black and white
At the end of the street, an old house once yellow, what now remains white.
The sound of a hammer building a house, entering a place with a color unknown.

On the street,
Windows covered with ice
Some shine with light.
Some broken
Some fixed
Some lost, out of sight.

A house, two blocks from here.
Shines with lights of yellow, red, and green everywhere.
A wall keeping the wind from blowing anywhere.
The house next door, at the dawn of the day.
Paints its room black, and peals the color away.

The wall crumbles.
The wind blows across the colors of yellow, red and green
Breaks all the windows.
Turns the yellow to blue, red to black, and green to white.

The house two blocks away.
Adds a line of yellow red and green everyday.
To allow the house of blue, black and white to shine for us some day.

poem by Linda ErikssonBique
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On a rainy night

On a rainy night with a gunmetal sky
I saw crisp leaves fly in the wind,
but your laughter was like a ray of light

and although the night was corroding
and the leaves were the colour of rust
we danced jolly in the rain that was falling

close against each other, just you and I
and lightning falling like gun flashes
lighted the street while we ran
to the porch of our house

where drops of rain shined
like jewels in your hair
and the hot fireplace was quite welcoming
and your passionate kisses were sweet
and we were without a care
while the fresh smell of the rain was everywhere.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Afternoon rain

Every day this summer
in the late afternoon
the rain just keep pouring down
as if the milling clouds
and the storm has its clock set.

Thunder flashes here and there
white-blue electric bolts
from a sudden grey sky
and big and small drops fall
rushing down to the earth.

Heat rises in steaming white patches
on the hot black tar road
while the first drops make it wet
and water suddenly streams everywhere
in miniature rivers.

People run to reach their cars
and are stuck in huge traffic jams
where cars crawl meters at a time,
while others go to bars
and enjoy a drink or two
and smoke their cigars.

Two teenage girls
that are soaking wet
with T-shirts clinging translucent
dance on the sidewalk
in the falling rain
and their giggles
catches my ear
and suddenly it’s fun to live.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Think of me

Think of me
while the horizon glows red
at dusk,
that folds like a translucent cloak
around the earth

where on the porch
you watch the wild doves
and people
passing in the street
and the church bell
counts the evening hour in the distance

and the sweet taste of the tea
disappear with satisfaction into you
and the night flowers
open their cups.

Think of me
while nights draws out long
and the smell of jasmine
comes sweet through the window
soaking in from the garden

and you awake
from your dreams at night
and the old black dog
make whimpering sounds in her sleep

because I am the whole time
right here next to you
and want to remember
every moment with you.

poem by Gert Strydom
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The thunder storm came suddenly

The thunder storm came suddenly; the air was drawing close,
with grey and black clouds covering the heaven
and suddenly there was no more blue
with the whole day being only grey
while leaves were falling in yellow and brown everywhere,

with the wind cutting icily, trying to grab onto jackets,
untimely the rain came without respect
for the rules of nature,
the thunder storm came suddenly.

Suddenly the weather was in each conversation
of the doctor, lawyer and architect,
as if it contained something incomprehensible and evil
nobody trusted the sudden bad weather;
early in the afternoon people left for home,
the thunder storm came suddenly.

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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A spring evening

Outside the irises flower yellow and purple
and I haven’t seen a red one yet
and there are some pink and white blossoms
on the fruit trees
and the streetlights burn continually
glowing orange-yellow
all day and all night
as if the municipality
does not know how to do things right
and in the fading evening light
the moon is full and white
and the evening star is already shining bright
and a hot breeze sweeps in
through the open windows
and I wonder when the first spring rain
is going to fall
and in the distance I see thunder
crashing down
in blue-white flashes, but the storm
is blown away and again the sky is clear
and the black speckled by stars.

poem by Gert Strydom
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The Storm

The clouds turned to gray
The air turned to cold
And I knew by that day
Some evil would unfold.
It arrived without a warning
Along with the pounding rain
And it was gone by the morning
As violently as it came.
But for that night I lived in terror
That night I lived in fright
With every sound I heard
With every flash of light.
Violently came the wind
Terrorizing with no form
Then came the thunder and lightning,
Arriving, was the storm.
Many trees I saw bent
Then God clapped his mighty hand
While many trees were refusing to fall,
But then, a tree didn't stand.
Rushing came the wind
Pounding came the rain
Crashing came the thunder
Quickly, came my pain.
Underneath my bed I hid
From the terror of the storm
And in pain and terror I cried
In horror and pain I moaned.
That night I lived in terror
That night I lived in fright
With every sound I heard
With every flash of light.
And the rain just kept falling
More tears I began to weep
For the wind just kept calling,
Then that night; I fell asleep.
Then morning she finally came
I awoke to the sound of peace and birds
The sound of thunder and rain was gone
Which had awoke my sleeping world.
Then outside towards the sky I stared,
To the clouds God he did call
I saw Gods hand moving the wind
Commanding the rain not to fall.
Then the sun began to shine
So on my knees I fell to pray
Then again, I began to cry
Thanking God; the storm had went away.

poem by Randy McClave
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Night was coming

Night was coming
with a piercing huge orange sun
breaking through
white and black clouds
in the west.

It found a gap
and the sun was hanging
like a orange ball
above the street
and it was blinding.

Cars passed barely visible
above the orange glare
and some had already
turned their lights on.

The sun dipped down
below some trees
and for a time
it glowed behind them
and soon it would be dark
and the first stars
were already appearing
and a full yellow moon
was rising,

but below bright lights
was already burning
right across the city
in colours of amber
streetlights
green, yellow and red
traffic lights,
blue lights flashing
on police cars
and almost every bright colour
caught on neon signs
while people came and went
to different destinations

some smiling and relaxed,
others in a hurry
and some others
locked in a world of their own.

poem by Gert Strydom
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The Darkness Falls Like A Shadow Over You (In Answer To Pablo Neruda)

The darkness falls like a shadow over you,
where your eyes gleam like that of a cat
as the silver twilight sudden start to rush in
and abstracted your face fades into twilight.

Without a word you gaze into the night,
gaze down at neon lights flickering on,
while I am alone in our big hot bed
and there is a kind of loneliness that comes

with this early evening’s magical hour,
while the sun flames in its red glowing fire
that splashes over your white dress
as the night sets its roots into our souls

while hidden things suddenly come to life,
as your gentle laughter touches me very deep
when you enter our bedroom with a bottle
full of sparkling champagne, full of joy.

Suddenly life is rich as if the act of creation,
is in every gentle touch, as if new beginnings
of love, joy and tender bliss are totally endless
as the city lights suddenly wink on below.

poem by Gert Strydom
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We fit into each other

We fit into each other
and it is pure passion,
perfect like light on glass
with bodies, hands
and feelings touching deeper.

There’s JC Le Roux champagne in a glass
and the red sparkles like fire
burning deep in your eyes
while you shake your head
spreading your hair over your shoulders.

Later you lipstick
is on the edge of a glass,
while I pour some more champagne for you
and the smoke of your cigarette
spirals up into the air

and I see your perfect body
before you draw me nearer to you
and I feel your soft skin
with nipples pointing into my chest
with your breath soft against my cheek.

In your sleep your turn against me,
lying with an arm stretched over my body
and it’s as if your lips are muttering words
while your face looks pure and chaste
like that of a small girl.

The next day I find
a brown hair-clip in my bed,
on the pillow there’s a mark of red lipstick
and my sheets smell of you.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Cloudburst (terzanelle)

The clouds are dark as the night
until the sky opens it sluices
with here and there light

pouring down gathered juices
with wild bolts of blue-white thunder
until the sky opens it sluices

with lightning falling with feelers, ready to plunder
splitting trees, setting the veldt alight
with wild bolts of blue-white thunder

bashing down, and people flee in fright
and hail, thunder and rain pelts down
splitting trees, setting the veldt alight

splattering in fury, causing people to drown
and man and beast is desolate
and hail, thunder and rain pelts down

with people struggling past fear, past hope, past hate.
The clouds are dark as the night
and man and beast is desolate
with here and there light.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Past forever I can lie next to you

You lie beside me
with your hot soft body
touching mine
and I wish for the night
to last eternally
and stretch into infinity.

This night is a world
with only you and me
and bright blue stars
sparkling like precious stones
against the velvet sky.

Past forever I can lie
next to you
while you cuddle
against me

and I can almost
feel every breath
that you take
and your heart
pounding against my chest

and you and I
are intertwined like one
as if our bodies
cannot come apart

and love and passion
becomes pure art
creating feelings
in places that up to now
I didn’t really know.

The first rays of the morning
fall in patches
over your beautiful face
which is filled with tranquillity

and there’s a bee
buzzing at the window needlessly,
trying to fly
to where it belongs
but blocked from its world
by glass

and on the other side
bushes covered
with pink flower cups
wave in the morning breeze
and I freeze
in a perfect moment
with you.

poem by Gert Strydom
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There Were Late Afternoons

There were late afternoons when as a child
I would see the tall popular trees
making the pale blue sky seem much higher
where they grew next to the old farm dam

with there branches whispering
in the early night breeze,
with doves and finches calling
from their nests in the shelter of these trees,

when an early moon would appear
and the evening star would suddenly start twinkling
blue-white in its sheer brightness against a darker blue sky,
like a mother goose leading all of the other stars.

There were early evenings when the sun
died with its deep red glow touching
the hillocks that were covered in sugar bushes,
and red flowering aloes,

when the scent of protea flowers was sweet on the air,
when blue changed to darker black,
when darkness came suddenly
and a myriad of stars sparkled all over the sky

while in the distance fires came to life
at the rural mud huts, while jackals
and dogs started to howl at the bright yellow moon,
while I knew that mother would be home soon.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Were Late Afternoons As A Child

There were late afternoons when as a child
I would see the tall popular trees
making the pale blue sky seem much higher
where they grew next to the old farm dam

with there branches whispering
in the early night breeze,
with doves and finches calling
from their nests in the shelter of these trees,

when an early moon would appear
and the evening star would suddenly start twinkling
blue-white in its sheer brightness against a darker blue sky,
like a mother goose leading all of the other stars.

There were early evenings when the sun
died with its deep red glow touching
the hillocks that were covered in sugar bushes,
and red flowering aloes,

when the scent of protea flowers was sweet on the air,
when blue changed to darker black,
when darkness came suddenly
and a myriad of stars sparkled all over the sky

while in the distance fires came to life
at the rural mud huts, while jackals
and dogs started to howl at the bright yellow moon,
while I knew that mother would be home soon.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Far Too Little I Know

I

Far too little I know about the things that lie between us,
I see the sea drawing back and rushing in,
I know too little to tell you about my love,
see your tracks disappearing over a sand dune.

I know too little to talk about a secret,
how one day can be so very special,
filled with life changing meaning,
about the things that I read in your eyes

but that that you really love me,
I know before the sea wipes our tracks away
when I kiss you and get you giggling,
while we give new steps into life

when you became the meaning in my small universe;
if you were the light falling through the window on me.

II

If you were the light falling through the window on me,
a star shining at night against the sky,
I would have been able to admire you, in days without end
but now thunder flashes down

whiter than daylight into my life
becoming part of my life,
to again jump to somewhere else
as if single moments are everything

and far too short was the time that you could stay,
with almost endless cheerfulness that you could bring
in this tough world as part of me,
where my heart could sing songs of joy

and far too little time I had invested in you,
how should I have known that I would make an oath with you?

III

How should I have know that I would make a oath with you
before I met you,
have a concept of such intimate feelings,
as with which you are part of my whole world?

How must I have know the meaning
of faith, love and hope
and about professing of true love
before our lives started together

on ways that I could not expect
and could learn to love
past events, years and times reaching to maybe,
that you are part of everything in me?

I want to love you as in days long past,
in the winter of my life.

IV

In the winter of my life
when all the trees around me stand skeleton,
with stripped branches shivering in the wind,
with sometimes a thunder bashing down

I sometimes remember the look in your sea-green eyes
where colours so secretly come together,
even when my body bend like branches, bended by age
as if in my thoughts they are looking forever at me,

it’s as if a new spring just have got to come,
as if your arms surround my neck,
with you flowering anew
as a angel of light

it’s sometimes as is you are with me,
when the morning starts with its first rays.

V

When the morning starts with its first rays,
with the sky changing from twilight grey to blue,
hang with the moon still hanging white
I am caught like a lizard

that prays to the sun,
where it’s rising white hot,
where I sit before your photograph
that shows every bit of your beauty,

but the nights and months past
while every day you look back
from that photograph
and I wonder if you still do love me?

and I think certainly, you are just as pretty,
when the sun throws its last rays over the trees.

VI

When the sun throws its last rays over the trees,
drawing shadows out long
before it reaches out
with long orange red rays

and the streetlights suddenly are awakening
give eyes to poles, becoming orange yellow
then I know
that you are somewhere else and just as pretty,

that you are laughing somewhere else,
caring after your children, doing your duties,
stretching yourself out for the night,
after kissing your children goodnight

and I am really longing while I am waiting,
I miss the way that you laugh in pleasure.

VII

I miss the way that you laugh in pleasure,
how you cry for a beautiful movie,
even expecting something good out of poor things,
how on a dark rainy night you shelter against me,

the way that you look at me,
the feelings that you bring to me,
as if you’re green eyes shines like the sea,
with every word going into my depths

but time takes an own road
and destiny is without mercy,
where at a time we both had to go different directions
and still try to jump over horizons with words

and maybe I have to court you again anew,
far too little I know about the things that lie between us.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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