Silver Poem by Gert Strydom

Silver

Rating: 5.0


There are clouds that hang
silver-grey in the air,
before the winter sun
gives its first rays
of a drawling day.

Silver-grey the Monday starts
and while the day’s hours
pass much to slowly,
I am summoned to the old chief
with his silver-grey hair.

One of the women clerks
who wants to be boss,
wants to push a silver knife
into a colleges back.

I leave them alone to count their silver pounds
and wash my hands in the bathroom,
with a silver ray of water that squirts out of the tap.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Marieta Maglas 10 June 2009

all the stanzas operate to invoke the theme, tone.. nice write..lovely to read.10++

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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom

Johannesburg, South Africa
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