Gert Strydom Poems

I remember her fluttering, a bird
at the window,
twittering as if calling me to her,
a small shadow
...

I have seen some fading red roses,
pink hollyhocks,
all withering at the end of summer,
stripped like rocks,
...

Down at the fen small red weavers twitter,
they do frolic,
are joyous fluttering from reed to reed
while mud do stick
...

Sometimes I take your soft hand
and feel how it glows with heat

and sometimes your eyes gleam
on the other side of the table when tears flow
...

Rubens would have been quite happy to paint
with the white beach,
the view through the window with topless girls,
just out of reach
...

One after the other or in some pairs
the seagulls fly,
while a green, blue or purple hued calm sea
does catch the eye;
...

I would be happy to live in a town
like this, with houses,
a big old brick church with a high column,
girls in blouses
...

I would be happy to live in a town
like this, with houses,
a big old brick church with a high column,
girls in blouses
...

Like a Godly sign
of tranquil illustrious sanctity
a shadow falls over me
and it’s falling further and further
...

I have found a kind of pure innocence
in your bright eyes,
in your words great sincerity and truth,
you tell no lies,
...