Elbert Matt Loubser
Biography of Elbert Matt Loubser
I grew up in South-Africa and, heaven knows, I'm still growing. I find poetry to be a canvass of the mind where I can 'paint' my ideas and release my feelings to the world. This also allows me to revisit past ideas and wisdom; I adore my own poems for their vast differences. I am very eccentric and as time passes my thoughts and perspective on life changes, so you may look at my poems as a diary of many minds, all of one person. But as my ideas change, my beliefs do not, as I will always love God and what He is.
Elbert Matt Loubser Poems
One Last Second
One last second is all that I ask Albeit the years have passed like the swarms and flocks and schools and tribes in numbers as great as the pain I have.
A Father's Advice
To be what makes a difference In all we know to be Is something of significance And as yet we have to see
We walked this day downtrodden as asphalt and pitiless penny what justice there is in violence, I know not,
Taker Of The Weak, The
There are sand-dunes surrounding my dream-castle And e'ery wind spills the dust into my cool chambers The ones I hold dear seem to have cracks in the rock Solid walls I have built with the years
Ode To An Angel
(God's words to a newly created angel) Seedling, born of light's majestic sproute Of love's unconditional, unending hum
A canvass was given to me one that has already felt the touch from coarse bristles not of my hand that held it it was meant to be untouched ere I could touch it
In watery ways And watery days I yearned for the sun Too precious to prays
A Pearl On The Beach
My feet dragged me to the sands of deep The earl' morn' a fine specimen for the connoisseur What a day! A rise! The very air tells me the day is new The breeze lifts my shirt, the gallon’s sails’ curse
From life and heat this came Longing to stay the same A brittle, little light Manifested in the night
Death Of A Habbit
I am't the duration of a breath Nor the flick of a bird's wing I do not fly-by, as time does Haste I shan't bring
Cry To The Cold
Can people just stop wishing that what they had was more, when actually they have the things that people have died for. Can't you see you burn to the core, can't you see you burn to the core.
Ocean Weaps, The
When it rains the oceans sing upon the vast drought of this land the dry sands of this land they weap for they lose unity
For Us Forever
Once more, my self, my core Has risen and risen, a hold And upon me, you have no more But still I am yours, as ever
I am filled with the remorse of my past Like the sewage waters of the bogs Drained of the nectar my flower-bud once held Or twice, my dreams always a haze
One Last Second
One last second is all that I ask
Albeit the years have passed like the
swarms and flocks and schools and tribes
in numbers as great as the pain I have.
I perceived you true. How could such a smile,
with warmth and care challenging the flaming
sun, felt it to me like summer in wintery times,
not be the break of dawn in my darkest mile?