Gert Strydom Poems

Grieve, England, and hang your head
in utter shame,
as the tale of your inhumanity
rings to this very day.
...

Yellow grass are growing
where it was green,
its icy cold
where the summer sun had been
...

Somewhere in the night
in my sleep,
I could feel you
laying against me.
...

Like a precious small chest
in which you close your jewels,
you remain deep in me.
...

How do you
put your life to paper
and where do you begin,
to catch a life into symbols.
...

The starry three sisters
are rising overhead
and the hot day
is dead.
...

I went to a waterfall
in the drakensberg mountains
on a sunny day
and there was something,
...

For most things in life
there’s a cure.

People look at their bodies
...

Next to me a pig sow snorts
and the stench of pig manure
hangs heavy in the air
and the pigs are eating pods,
...

Last night I saw the full moon
hang yellow-gold through the window,
above your shoulder over the bed.
...