Gert Strydom Poems

The priest and the poet
and the terminally ill,
all know me.
...

Cage in like in a prison
it walks up and down
and looks at itself in the mirror
and it gets food and water
...

I knew a woman
that some people
would have called mad,
who was just different
...

The appointment can be at any thing
from a shack, house, palace
or office block.
...

I dreamed of an angel
last night,
that appeared shiny and bright.
...

At quarter to five
the driver refuses,
that I get on a bus
in Burnett street
...

When I was a young man
I drove a blue Suzuki motorbike
and went down Marrion hill
at 180 over a speed trap
...

If fate compel me
to be alone when time’s end calls,
let my hand rest in Thine.
...

There was a gorgeous summer
at the sea,
when she still loved me.
...

I saw her drying out
two bunches of dark red roses
that I had given
to her,
...