The Zombie Poem by Gert Strydom

(after C Louis Leipoldt)

His skin was pulled thin
and his face was pale like that of a skeleton
and it was in my direction that he was marching,
looking cold like gravestone he was coming on.

His eyes lacked all energy of life
and his body did not look as if build out of flesh
while his legs folded out like a clasping knife
but some energy this foul thing did possess

but it had a kind of sense and sensing
which was full of evilness
although it was walking like a sleeping thing,
but it had some kind of aloofness.

It was passing under a streetlight
and I was wondering if it did from some grave crawl?
I was stunned at its strange sight
while it looked as if searching for a brawl.

Two old people at its feet did lie
where from fear they did pass out
as they were afraid to die
and a well build man in fear at it did shout

but to the square it went on its way
and did not look at me while it was passing
while children who did in the street play
in fear at it was glancing.

In the square a crowd was gathering,
and those people wanted peace,
while veterans were speaking against war and killing
and as it did approach everything did cease.

Some women did pray and others did weep
but I wanted to know who this Zombie was?
Away from it every one tried to keep
while its eyes sparkled like glass.

One elderly man shook his head
and honoured the thing that was almost dead
and I shouted: “Who is this? ”
“It’s the president, ” he replied to my dread.

[Reference: “The Zombie” by C. Louis Leipoldt.]