Epistle to NP Van Wyk Louw

I see the wise old man
pacing his study
with a hot fire raging in the fireplace,
where manuscripts lie disorderly,
in an order that only makes sense to him,

reading verses of other poets,
always searching for something
like a religious fanatic searches for truth,

helping other poets, like the great mentor
(that he still is after his demise)
writing exceptionally great poems,
believing that a poet
is someone like a prophet, a kind of saint
who searches both for truth
and expresses the abyss,

knowing that poetry is no struggle,
that the words, the structure to them
comes by itself as if given
like a communication
received from the gods

with the evangelistic advise
to rather examine
from which spirit
the inspiration comes.

[References: Epistle to Neruda by Yevgeny Yevtushenko. Rondom eie werk (Around own work) by NP Van Wyk Louw. P84-85. Tafelberg Publishers: 1970.]

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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