Gert Strydom

Gold Star - 25,761 Points (03 April 1964 / Johannesburg, South Africa)

In The Gardens Of Margaret Robberts - Poem by Gert Strydom

In the gardens of Margaret Robberts
white roman pillars runs
in rows down a lane
and there’s a green domed roof
that throws a long shadow.

Between the plants there are fairies hiding
and their homes are forsaken,
camped off with silver wire
and as if she has escaped
one blows on a copper magical flute.

There are red roses
blooming beautifully
and a citrus odour
coming from the lemon trees
and three boys are proud
of the lemons that they are carrying
and I wonder what is going to happen
when they eat some of them.

In the small chapel
I take my hat from my head
and there are beautiful verses
on the walls
and a round stained glass window
with a golden cross
and points pointing
like a white compass
in all directions
that is possible to determine.

We say a silent prayer
and walk to the bell tower
where you hold the chain
for a photograph
and you pay for cool drink,
chicken pie and spinach quiche
and we are exhausted
from the summer heat
and everything becomes peaceful
and I look at you
while you scatter pink rock salt
over your food

Later we walk to a place
where angels hang on fine strings
and you sit and relax
on a bench with one painted
against the wall
while I try to catch
everything with the camera
and you smile more beautiful
than any angel,
with rays shining out of your golden eyes
and there’s a cute sunhat
on your head
and your locks fall in auburn strings
past you slender shoulders.

Comments about In The Gardens Of Margaret Robberts by Gert Strydom

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poem Submitted: Monday, December 21, 2009

[Report Error]