The storm that hangs threatening
From Margate beach
I see a ship sailing past,
with people that are
dots on it.
The summer sun is hot and high
but there’s a strong wind
that swishes over the sea
and waves that like white spectre horses,
curl and twist and rise foaming
fall to death against rocks and the beach
On the horizon grey clouds hang ominous,
where a storm is rising
and the sky breaks the water.
I am caught up in a life
that is broken into pieces
and I wonder when
the storm is going to overwhelm me.
Gert Strydom's Other Poems
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