Now my life falls down
into fields of existence,
a bolt of lightning.
haiku by Gert Strydom

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Rus' You Are But A Kiss In The Frost
Rus', you are but a kiss in the frost!
The midnight roads are blueing.
Lips joined in a blue lightning bolt,
Clasped, he and she are blueing.
Sometimes at night lightning would spark
From the caress of two mouths.
And a bluing, languished lightning bolt
Would swiftly outline two coats.
And the night would shine intelligent and dark.
poem by Velimir Khlebnikov

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a Thunderstorm claps outside
There’s a thunder storm that claps outside
and lightning bolt after lightning bolt flashes past
and the first big drops fall
slamming on the roof
and there are cats and dogs
that finds shelter
and cosiness inside,
but it’s far better
to sit right against you
and to get a portion
of your own
spinach and feta quiche
poem by Gert Strydom

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Crack The Sky
the thunder outside
echoing across this land,
a voice of reason across insane minds
and stable hearts
the lightning crack
that tears the sky,
as if thousands of screaming voices
lamenting their tormentations in hell,
they split the sky
a crack a bolt a jolt
of thunderous lightning
Zap to the soul what youth has lost
and rewrite our chemistry
filling the blood with seeping hot plasma,
oh lightning you crack the sky
and bring about the new
it's raining, it's raining,
oh it's raining
and the lightning splits the sky
a crack a bolt a jolt
of thunderous applause,
as the kingdoms of man go out of style
and the retrocity of our species
begins a new,
it's raining, it's raining,
oh it is raining,
and the lightning cracks the sky
so that one day we will know to fly.
poem by David Thomas

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Conversation
Dad, I believe that you are resting where you are
that you are unaware of everything
as if you are only sleeping
but sometimes it feels
as if you are aware of my whole life,
then I wish that you could read my verses
as you were living for Afrikaans
and it was as if poems were in your blood
and I am wondering what you would have thought,
would have said as I am writing
every poem in English as well,
that it is the Scottish blood running true?
Sometimes when I see lightning bolts
trailing white blue down to earth,
getting the smell, almost like sulphur
where a thunderbolt falls
I am unafraid form being a child
and it’s as if I hear the voice of God
as if you are also near
like when I was a toddler
taking my hand in yours
and then I could not comprehend
that they were putting you in the cold earth,
it was if you had just left by your own will
which is a really strange thing
as you were truly in love with mom,
loved me and my younger brother
as if you would give your life for us
and when I go to your grave in the hillocks
at Heidelberg, at times I am dumb
as if an old pain
comes into my heart
and again I want to
walk into the hillocks with you
to gather protea flowers for mom
to give them to her in a glass vase
to together stand on the porch
while lightning bolt after lightning bolts
falls exploding form the sky,
to get the smell
of the first drops that are falling.
poem by Gert Strydom

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The Lightning
I am lightning
A light here then gone
I am lightning
A flash quick and strong
I am lightning
My life to short to tell
I am lightning
The ground scorched where I fell
I am lightning
I never strike in twos
I am lightning
I shatter your light's fuse
I am lightning
Destroying what I touch
I am lightning
And I live as such
A storm has come upon me
The lightning I am strong
The rain falls around me
Makes my arc trails long
I fall from the heavens
Crashing to the earth
Though your call it beckons
I cannot stay by hearth
Though the fire warms me
I'm gone to fast to tell
Though the air, it fights me
I ring true the bell
This ground I've hit before
If not here then there
But it is the same ground
If not the same exchange
The moment I can stand
I'm tossed back to the sky
On the ground I'll never be
Not till the day I die
poem by John Dillenger II

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Supplication
Well, dizzy aint the word for the way that youre making me feel now
Well, I need some indication, girl, if all of this is real now, tell me girl now
Well, Ive heard it said theres something wrong in my head, now
Got to help me, girl, now
Could it be infatuation or am I just being misled now?
Little bolt of inspiration way you strike me now
Sparking my imagination, got the lightning now
Cause me such excitation, got the lightning now
bout to end my suffocation, come on strike me now
Little bolt of inspiration way you strike me now, shes back in my imagination
song performed by by Grateful Dead

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For my Persian cat in autumn
Curled up he lays in the last bit of summer sun
that falls in the autumn,
he sometimes scale the chestnut tree
of which the stripped branches
grabs at the dull blue sky
to stretch himself out on the roof of the garage,
where he continually licks at his ginger coat
and when unexpectedly a thunderstorm arises
he lies on the porch curled up in a bundle,
looking at the falling drops
until a bolt of lightning falls on the paving in front of him,
where he looks startled at the bang
and with big golden eyes
that almost draws close does call.
poem by Gert Strydom

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Lightning Bolt
Lightning has a property to complicate
The ground as it smacked the air with its tail.
The tail of a dragon has arrived and each eye is seen
By the people far below.
You have a reason for this guile
You lightning bolt!
Lightning cracks after a tennis match
Or else it flakes from space and enters the race.
You see bolts of energy where you go,
And nothing to keep us alive.
poem by Naveed Akram

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The Tree (a Repost)
the tree
when the big tree falls
hit by lightning
roared by thunder
when the big tree finally falls
and i am there
the big sound
of a giant old tree
falling finally to the ground
the arrogance
that used to be
of that big old tree
we all look up
it is so high
and we do not
climb it anyhow
we fear
and
perhaps we too pay respect
for its grandeur
and today this big tree falls
hit by lightning and roared by thunder
the universe claps upon the
fall of arrogance and pride
and a tree's belief about
its hugeness and
strength
now this tree falls
and i am here watching it
you are not here
you are in some foreign country
how can i tell you
that this tree has fallen
and there is nothing to fear anymore?
when a tree falls and you are not there
your logic tells
there is no tree
there is no tree of such strength and posture
there is no tree like that
that can ever fall
all because a lightning hit it
and all because the thunder roared
without you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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44
when the big tree falls
hit by lightning
roared by thunder
when the big tree finally falls
and i was there
a big sound
of a giant old tree
falling finally to the ground
the arrogance
that used to be
by that big old tree
we all looked upon
it was so high
and we did not
climb it anyhow
for fear
and
perhaps respect for its grandeur
and today this big tree falls
hit by lightning and roared by thunder
the universe claps upon the
fall of arrogance and pride
and a tree's belief about
its hugeness and
strength
now this tree falls
and i am here watching it
you are not here
you are in some foreign country
how can i tell you
that this tree has fallen
and there is nothing to fear anymore?
when a tree falls and you are not there
your logic tells
there is no tree
there is no tree of such strength and posture
there is no tree like that
that can ever fall
all because a lightning hits it
and all because the thunder roared
without you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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The tree
When the big tree falls
Hit by lightning
Roared by thunder
When the big tree finally falls
And I was there
A big sound
Of a giant old tree
Falling finally to the ground
The arrogance
That used to be
By that big old tree
We all looked upon
It was so high
And we did not
Climb it anyhow
For fear
And
Perhaps respect for its grandeur
And today this big tree falls
Hit by lightning and roared by thunder
The universe claps upon the
Fall of arrogance and pride
And a tree's belief about
Its hugeness and
Strength
Now this tree falls
And I am here watching it
You are not here
You are in some foreign country
How can I tell you
That this tree has fallen
And there is nothing to fear anymore?
When a tree falls and you are not there
Your logic tells
There is no tree
There is no tree of such strength and posture
There is no tree like that
That can ever fall
All because a lightning hits it
And all because the thunder roared
Without you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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The Tree
when the big tree falls
hit by lightning
roared by thunder
when the big tree finally falls
and i was there
a big sound
of a giant old tree
falling finally to the ground
the arrogance
that used to be
by that big old tree
we all looked upon
it was so high
and we did not
climb it anyhow
for fear
and
perhaps respect for its grandeur
and today this big tree falls
hit by lightning and roared by thunder
the universe claps upon the
fall of arrogance and pride
and a tree's belief about
its hugeness and
strength
now this tree falls
and i am here watching it
you are not here
you are in some foreign country
how can i tell you
that this tree has fallen
and there is nothing to fear anymore?
when a tree falls and you are not there
your logic tells
there is no tree
there is no tree of such strength and posture
there is no tree like that
that can ever fall
all because a lightning hits it
and all because the thunder roared
without you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Like a lightning bolt
Like a lightning bolt
life thunders over me
I am bashed down
just when I think
that I am again on my feet again.
Time flies past much too fast
and the grey
sneaks into my dark brown hair
and between yesterday and now
I am slowly loosing courage
and like taking a track
I try to find the meaning
of my existence
and of life
but somewhere
I have lost the way
and over and over
I am lost in the backwoods
and sometimes when I see the stars
I am looking for a beacon
in the night above me,
but nowhere
I can find anything
as between now and remembering
the darkness
like a black blanket
wants to fold over me the whole time
but I keep on hoping
as if success and happiness
is just over the next hill,
but the journey is long
and my feet are sore
and it’s as if
I am walking alone through life.
poem by Gert Strydom

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Far Over The City
Far over the city I saw the lightning bolt flashing,
instantaneous energy that remains on the inner eye
before the branching of it was suddenly withering
where it disappeared from the dark night sky
and after that thunderclap silence reigned
in the deserted streets, as if everything living was lost
as if the storm had it’s forming resigned
until another blazing bolt was tossed.
poem by Gert Strydom

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The Essence Of The Waterfall
the essence of the waterfall
its beauty
the reason for its existence
is the falling
day and night it falls
and falls and falls
you cannot stop it
let it be let it be
like the way you are falling
from the skies of your dreams
it is your essence
it is the beauty of your existence
it is the meaning
of your being you
let it be let it be
find the bottom of it all
you shall find rest there.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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The lightning-bug is brilliant, but he hasn't any mind He stumbles through existence with his head-light on behind. - from The Lightning-Bug
quote by Eugene F. Ware

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pioneer Dwelling
Against the wall a lantern is burning
and the wick is turned high
making it flame brightly
and the thatched roof farmhouse
is cosy on this cold winter night,
the big old family bible is folded close,
there’s a fire of hardwood in the fireplace
burning red hot
and the dim half-light
draws shadows over the rows of portraits
hanging in the passage
and some of the drops
of the rain shower that suddenly falls
(unusual for this time of year)
hiss on the coals
while a lightning bolt falls blue-white on the outside
and there’s tranquillity
that you only find on a farm
while the frog choir sings outside
and the night is getting darker and darker.
poem by Gert Strydom

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Pylons
Like watchtowers stretching
far past the horizon
big giants of naked blue-grey steel
cut across the fields back to the source of raw power.
Interwoven in houses as a part
of the construction wires run
back to poles on farms,
in villages, towns and cities
and people have the use of electricity
in lights, appliances and machines.
How primitive does life feel
when the spark of lightning for a time is gone,
from the pylons
that hose it down into our existence.
poem by Gert Strydom

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Wanting to know if I am all right?
I dream about a helicopter
that is whining chattering
while I am shooting clattering
with the machinegun in the door
and in the dark night
I see tracers drawing lines
to down below
and see the enemy run
in the silver light
cast by the moon
and in the distance
a bolt of lightning falls
just past a place
were a torch hangs in the air
like a small sun
and it’s as if a rocket propelled grenade
zooms in from below,
brushes past
exploding behind us somewhere
and when I awake
I am still twitching next to you
and you touch me comforting
and want to know if I am all right?
poem by Gert Strydom

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Where Are The Thunder and Lightning?
The farmers of Karnataka in India
are staging agitations and protests
standing waist deep in the Kabini river
against the verdict of the Supreme Court
for releasing some cusecs of water
from the marvellous Brindavan Dam,
to quench the thirst of the farmers
in the nearby Tanjore belt in Tamil Nadu.
The South West Monsoon Winds are sterile
belying the hopes of the farmers
of the both the States.
The rain-god is sleeping somewhere!
What can the poor do
if lightning bolt strike
the women working in paddy fields
and the boys selling snacks on the beach,
and those taking shelter under the tall trees
when thunder and lightning forewarn the rains?
The gods are snoring in the granite chambers
with the mafia of Sand, Gold, Sandalwood and Coal.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah

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