Gert Strydom Poems

I have no words, no idea
and do not know how,
to write that which lies between us
on paper.
...

Perfect love is such a strange kind of thing
in a way a kind of sublime paradigm
where we are searching something unending
that still stays even through the end of time,
...

The young farmer is not dead
the earth that loves him, still remembers him,
where his young wife was raped by barbarians
and his small toddler daughter as well
...

Sometimes it's as if my childhood days come back
and it's as if the colour and texture catches me
when I am astounded by the sheer beauty of things,

by the smell of flowers hanging in the air,
...

Slow they do swim
in the surging swell avoiding rocks,
slow they do swim;
maybe a little he or him,
...

While I stood at the door
I noticed
how the depths can suck you in,
can paralyse your heart and soul.
...

When leaves fall in autumn, lying all over the place
with the smell of decline penetrating,
in colours of yellow, brown and gold
nature is caught in a circle
...

My clothes, my shoes fit from the shelve
as if in shops clothing
was specially designed for my body
and whatever I desire fits perfectly
...

Life, the whole of human existence
is sometimes nothing but a big masked ball.
The depth, the deadly silence can at times
catch and trick us as reflexes.
...

I

Love is something that we see
in a eternal light
...