Gert Strydom Poems

Let me tell you of my love day by day,
and little things like a dove
that life at times brings onto my way,
see as an action from above,
...

The words of being in love and love
did past us
while you were reading my poems
...

I said perhaps somewhere in the Western Cape
meant a province with a big peninsula,
a place where we did once meet,
which is bounded by both the Indian
...

Bundles of vestibules lay tables full,
anything from pumpkins
to green watermelons,
even milk are ladled out in buckets
...

Out of the mist and rain along the old road
down the slope of a small mountain pass
an old man rides with his bicycle to town
with a plastic bag in which bottles tingle
...

At the gate to the street
there are dustbins
and rubbish bags heaped up
and you have
...

I

Hunger gnaws at my stomach
and a much deeper hunger of which the pain does not want to fade
...

Come to my garden
when purple irises flower perfectly,
morning glories summit over every thing
and be speechless by the glory
...

In different places
in the city the Holy Ghost
is being sold and people clap hands
and some are pushed
...

No feather from Woeperdal,
no fox’s hair that falls somewhere,
no African marigolds in the spring sun
urge me to be as much in love
...