Gert Strydom Poems

The air is grey
and the cold bites with the rain
and this morning, there’s fog folding around me
...

It’s as if this winter
is more deadly,
than the cold with which it bothers.
...

The air is overcast and grey
and the cold chills with the rain
and the end of our love cuts right through me.
...

Love is a bitter thing
that cuts nastily,
Through my heart.
...

The flags at the Pretoria news hangs limp
hangs limp
while I walk to the bus stop
and a man with a straw hat
...

This morning six thirty
we drive past a church
where a lot of cars are already parked.
...

Some people call the name
of the Almighty, before they kill
and have no compassion of their deeds.
...

At the sparkling white river
that cuts its way through the earth,
some green reeds grew in bushes into the water.
...

There’s a shore
on the other side of destiny,
where forever I hear
happy voices singing
...

There’s a place where rows of cypress trees
stand to attention
at the foot of a rocky hillock
and there are graves planted in rows.
...