Gert Strydom Poems

There’s a newspaper which the wind blows,
round and round
until it hits against me.
...

In Sweden people today celebrate
a pagan feast
on the midsummer day
and snaps and beer,
...

You are so fine on me as light on glass.
and before I think,
you know where my thoughts are going.
...

What joy I see in faces,
but it’s not in my heart
and I have not a part
of the December summer fun.
...

The fog is so low
that it looks as if,
it’s coming from the ground.
...

At Camps bay the wind is blowing
and the waves leap and thrust
against the jetty,
where my eyes
...

It was somewhere in July
that I first met you.
and that winters day,
felt like summer to me.
...

How soft and firm and hot and wet
your lips are at times
and how tender and unstoppable,
is the passion
...

I knew Shell-shocked troops,
who were battle hardened
and who struggled between
the sense and senselessness of killing.
...

How can I have comprehension
of how deep your love lies,
when you fold your hands over me
and pray that my life
...