The Singer Poem by Gert Strydom

The Singer



She stands on the stage
and her eyes catch mine
in front of giant speakers
that is in a row
with a cordless microphone
in her hand
and the power in her blue eyes
is magical
and I see endless energy in them.

There is something intimate in her voice
and the foreign girl bedazzles me
while she pulls a electronic piano
nearer with a white cord
and the guy next to me
says something crude
and I hit him
with my elbow
is making him windless
and his voice gets a hoarse sound
and pain
written all over his face

and she bends in front of me
and look deep into my eyes
and throw a nonchalant kiss
and the crowd cheers
and I wonder
for whom she is intending it

and a guitar hits a high note
that cuts right through everyone,
the drums boom thundering
and for moments she is only singing for me

and the audience pull out cigarette lighters
and everywhere there are bright flames
burning romantically
and a blonde girl takes my hand
and I barely notice her

and then the crowd asks loudly for an encore
where she again sings beautiful
and when I leave the super dome
there’s a bodyguard
placing a hand on my arm
and the man with the aching stomach says:
“your ticket is punched, friend”
and the bodyguard looks strictly at me
and says that I have a appointment with her.

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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom

Johannesburg, South Africa
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