This Poet On Holiday Poem by Gert Strydom

(in answer to Daniel Hugo)

Where the waves smash thundering against the banks of rock
I notice a lonely fisherman standing,
it's as if the rhythm of the verse do continue to build
try to like his line go into the unlimited depths.

The wind does jerk on his clothes as if on it,
it can find a kind of meaning (do sweep over him with cold fingers) ,
do warn him about ominous things
and it's as if this verse do deepen to something secret

and this speechless poet do notice nature and the man,
do want to draw equations as if I can capture the power of the sea
somewhere in my verse, do notice how the fishing line do strain
as if the catch does give new life to the fisherman

but there is water that reaching do splash at his feet
and with a broken line the fisherman do stand soaked on the rocks.

[Reference: "Die digter met vakansie" (The poet on holiday) by Daniel Hugo.]