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neither corruption elephant
nor anti-corruption ant
can annihilate each other

senryu by John Celes
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Corruption

From the drip drip drip of the teardrops
To the chink chink chink of the cash
To the end end end of the friendships
To the wack wack wack of the bash
Corruption corruption corruption
Rules my soul
Corruption corruption corruption
Rules my soul
From the tick tick tick of your times up
To the yes yes yes of Ill sell
From the fact fact fact of the souless
To the pact pact pact with hell
Corruption corruption corruption
Rules my soul
Corruption corruption corruption
Chills my bones
Corruption corruption corruption
Rules my soul
Corruption corruption corruption
Chills my bones
From the scream scream scream of the babies
To the retch retch retch of the youth
From the lie lie lie of the righteous
To the lost lost lost way I feel
Corruption corruption corruption
Rules my bones
Corruption corruption corruption
Chills my bones
Corruption corruption corruption
Rules my soul
Corruption corruption corruption
Rules my soul
Corruption
Corruption
Order in the court
Decision to abort
The monkey wants to speak
So speak, monkey speak
Speak monkey, speak
Speak monkey, speak
Speak monkey, speak
Everything leads to corruption
Everything leads to corruption
Corruption

song performed by Iggy Pop
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On The Death Of K. Edward The First

Alle, that beoth of huerte trewe,
A stounde herkneth to my song
Of duel, that Deth hath diht us newe,
That maketh me syke, ant sorewe among;
Of a knyght, that wes so strong,
Of wham God hath don ys wille;
Me-thuncheth that deth hath don us wrong,
That he so sone shall ligge stille.

Al Englond ahte for te knowe
Of wham that song is, that y synge;
Of Edward Kyng, that lith so lowe,
Zent al this world is nome con springe:
Trewest mon of all thinge,
Ant in werre war ant wys,
For him we ahte oure honden wrynge,
Of Christendome he ber the prys.

Byfore that oure kyng was ded,
He spek ase mon that wes in care,
'Clerkes, knyhtes, barons,' he sayde,
'Y charge ou by oure sware,
That ye to Engelonde be trewe.
Y deze, y ne may lyven na more;
Helpeth mi sone, ant crouneth him newe,
For he is nest to buen y-core.

'Ich biqueth myn herte arhyt,
That hit be write at my devys,
Over the sea that Hue be diht,
With fourscore knyhtes al of prys,
In werre that buen war ant wys,
Azein the hethene for te fyhte,
To wynne the croiz that lowe lys,
Myself ycholde zef that y myhte.'

King of Fraunce, thou hevedest 'sinne',
That thou the counsail woldest fonde,
To latte the wille of 'Edward Kyng'
To wende to the Holy Londe:
That oure kynge hede take on honde
All Engelond to zeme ant wysse,
To wenden in to the Holy Londe
To wynnen us heveriche blisse.

The messager to the Pope com,
And seyde that our kynge was ded:
Ys oune hond the lettre he nom,
Ywis his herte was full gret:
The Pope him self the lettre redde,

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Olde English
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An Extraordinary Friendship

There happened to be an Elephant with purple skin
Which caused many a little child, to laugh and to grin?
They considered it so strange, and so ‘out of place’
That, a cheeky smirk ne’er left each mischievous face.
They laughed so much that they even shed tears:

“A Purple Elephant, with purple ears!
Who ever heard such a ridiculous thing,
Next we’ll be hearing the Elephant sing.”

On this did continue, for many a day,
Each time he felt more hurt and full of dismay.
He thought about travelling, far, far away –
“Perhaps then, my skin will be the normal grey? ”
Thus he did reason inside his mind,
This way he would be leaving his shame behind.
But, as he thought on, he began to realise
That his shame wasn’t what they saw with their eyes
But, how they made him feel, deep inside,
All this is what continued to wound his pride.

Suddenly, one bright and cheerful day
A small Blue Mouse just happened by his way.
The Purple Elephant instinctively let out a scream
From the fear and shock, at what he had just seen!
He was just about to turn, quickly away,
When, his attention was caught, as the Blue Mouse did say:
“Please, there’s no need for you to fear me
I’m only a little, quiet Blue Mouse, as you can see.
Why is it that you’re afraid and nervous too?
Please, tell me how I can help – I would really like to.”

And so, the Purple Elephant related his troubles and woes;
How he seemed to have few friends, but much more foes.
The little Blue Mouse gave him such caring advice,
Of which he thought was ever so nice:

“Don’t you worry about how others see you,
Because, when it comes to real beauty, they haven’t a clue.
Your strength of character is something I admire.
You battle on, where others weaken and tire;
You’re tall in stature, big hearted as well.
How do I know? I’ve observed you and can tell.”

The Purple Elephant smiled, and a tear glistened in his eye,
He found her words very touching, and did thus reply:

“O thank you so much, for your kind words so true,
Now, I wonder, is there any favour I can do for you? ”

[...] Read more

poem by Paul Holmes
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Blow, Northern Wind

ICHOT a burde in boure bryht,
That fully semly is on syht,
Menskful maiden of myht;
   Feir ant fre to fonde;
In al this wurhliche won
A burde of blod ant of bon
Never yete y nuste non
   Lussomore in londe.
   Blou northerne wynd!
   Send thou me my suetyng!
   Blou northerne wynd! blou, blou, blou!

With lokkes lefliche ant longe,
With frount ant face feir to fonge,
With murthes monie mote heo monge,
   That brid so breme in boure.
With lossom eye grete ant gode,
With browen blysfol under hode,
He that reste him on the Rode,
   That leflych lyf honoure.
   Blou northerne wynd, etc.

Hire lure lumes liht,
Ase a launterne a nyht,
Hire bleo blykyeth so bryht.
   So feyr heo is ant fyn.
A suetly swyre heo hath to holde,
With armes shuldre ase mon wolde,
Ant fingres feyre forte folde,
   God wolde hue were myn!
   Blou northerne wynd, etc.

Heo is coral of godnesse,
Heo is rubie of ryhtfulnesse,
Heo is cristal of clannesse,
   Ant baner of bealte.
Heo is lilie of largesse,
Heo is parvenke of prouesse,
Heo is solsecle of suetnesse,
   Ant lady of lealte.

For hire love y carke ant care,
For hire love y droupne ant dare,
For hire love my blisse is bare
   Ant al ich waxe won,
For hire love in slep y slake,
For hire love al nyht ich wake,
For hire love mournynge y make
   More then eny mon.
   Blou northerne wynd!

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous
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Another Conversa Mi Amiga....

i am proud to say, i do not hide my ignorance and lapses 7: 06 AM
but i always hide my eggs 7: 06 AM



Me

h ehehe 7: 06 AM






for fear that it may get burned 7: 07 AM



Me

but 7: 07 AM
it is because uv got confidence 7: 07 AM
ur ignorance is minimal hehehe 7: 07 AM
compared to us 7: 07 AM






confidence is the flower of ignorance 7: 07 AM



Me

so nasa taas gihapon ka 7: 07 AM
safe up there 7: 07 AM
u can still be naked 7: 08 AM

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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GOD's Elephant - Beating Back The Lion...

GOD Pulled The Lion’s Teeth
GOD Crushed The Lion’s Claws
GOD Took The Lion’s Roar
… and made it very small

GOD Tore Off The Lion’s Tail
GOD Cut The Lion’s Mane
‘Til The Lion’s Voracious Voice
Became Lame and Tamed … and Shamed

Because That Lion Was A Coward
That Crazed Lion Was A Bully
Looking Only For The Weak
To Feast On Them Fully

Not Because It Was Hungry
Not Because It Was In Need
Terror Became Its Creed
Because Its Favorite Taste … Was Greed

It Was The Nature Of That Beast
To Be The Enemy Of My Peace
But GOD Changed Me Into An Elephant
When GOD Saw Me On My Knees

That Lion Chose Me As Victim
It Thought I’d Be Irrelevant
Because It Had No Idea …
I’d Become GOD’ Elephant

… I Am One Of GOD’s Messengers
Hear Me Trumpet HIS Sound
See How Christian Courage Charge
and Shake Lions Underground

See My Ivory Tusks Of Hope
Raised High In Silhouette Moonlight
Gleaming As I Spoke
My Prayers Thru Every Night

See My Ears So Huge To Cool
Fiery Heat That Must Come
Caressing My Full Faith Form
As Heart Beats A Thunder-Drum

GOD Gave Me Wings Of The Wind
GOD Gave Me Echoes Of The Sea
Gave Me A Stand Like A Snowcapped Mountain
And A Trunk Like A Baobab Tree

[...] Read more

poem by MoonBee Canady
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Blow, Northern Wind

Blow, northerne wynd,
Send thou me my suetyng!
Blow, northerne wynd,
Blou, blou, blou!

Ichot a burde in bour{.e} bryht,
That fully semly is on syht,
Menskful maiden of myht,
Feir ant fre to fond{.e};
In al this wurhlich{.e} won,
A burde of blod and of bon
Never yete y nust{.e} non
Lussomore in lond{.e}.

With lokk{.e}s lefliche and long{.e},
With frount and fac{.e} feir to fong{.e},
With murth{.e}s moni{.e} mote heo mong{.e},
That brid so breme in bour{.e};
With lossom ey{.e}, grete ant god{.e},
With browen blysfol under hod{.e};
He that reste him on the rod{.e}
That leflich lyf honour{.e}!

Hire lur{.e} lum{.e}s liht
Ase a launterne a nyht,
Hire bleo blykyeth so bryht:
So feyr heo is ant fyn!
A suetly suyre heo hath to hold{.e},
With arm{.e}s, shuldr{.e}, ase mon wold{.e},
Ant fyngres feyr{.e} fort{.e} fold{.e},
God wolde hue wer{.e} myn!

Middel heo hath menskful smal;
Hire loveliche cher{.e} as cristal;
They{.e}s, legg{.e}s, fet, ant al,
Ywraht is of the best{.e}.
A lussum ledy last{.e}les
That sweting is, and ever wes;
A betere burd{.e} never nes
Yhery{.e}d with the hest{.e}.

Heo is der{.e}worthe in day,
Gracious{.e}, stout, and gay,
Gentil, jolyf so the jay,
Worhlich{.e} when heo waketh.
Maiden murgest of mouth;
Bi est, bi west, by north and south,
Thér nis fithel{.e} ne crouth
That such murth{.e}s maketh.

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Americas
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Elefans' Fans - Elefans' Fans - Gray Eulogy written in a Country Backyard

Enormous fan ears,
Like trees legs large, small rope tail,
Ends pointed, tusk spears.
Flanks walls, pack I derm trunk snake
ANSwer: blind faith tale's trumps wake.

21 March 2009 robi3_1871_saxe1_0003 PAH_NXX
Acrostic Tanka Elefans

The Blind Men and the Elephant

It was six men of Hindostan
To learning much inclined
Who went to see the Elephant
[Though all of them were blind];
That each by observation
Might satisfy his mind.

The first approached the Elephant,
And happening to fall
Against his broad and sturdy side,
At once began to bawl:
"Bless me, it seems the Elephant
Is very like a wall."

The second, feeling of his tusk,
Cried, "Ho! what have we here
So very round and smooth and sharp.
To me ‘tis mighty clear
This wonder of an Elephant
Is very like a spear."

The third approached the animal,
And happening to take
The squirming trunk within his hands,
Then boldly up and spake:
"I see, " quoth he, "the Elephant
Is very like a snake."

The fouth stretched out his eager hand
And felt about the knee,
"What most this mighty beast is like
Is mighty plain, " quoth he:
"'Tis clear enough, the Elephant
Is very like a tree."

The fifth who chanced to touch the ear
Said, "Even the blindest man
Can tell what this resembles most;
Deny the fact who can,

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Elefans' Fans' Grey Tanka Eulogy written on a Grass Green Country Backyard after John Godfrey Saxe The Blind Men and the Elephant

The King was ill. A travelling monk told him to look upon the healing colour of green. The king spent lakhs and lakhs of money hiring artists to paint the entire country green. The monk once again travelled in the vicinity and came to court. He said to the king: 'Would it not have been better to put on green glasses? ' Paraphrased from a story told by Sathya Sai Baba

Guard us from advice
Responses aping logic
As King in a trice
Should have rejected both monk,
Story artists' green leafed trunk.

Green dreams in dark night
Reveal lies theologic
Emerald eyes quite
Express blood red as black junk -
Simplistic suggestions sunk.

Enormous fan ears,
Like trees legs large, small rope tail,
Ends pointed, tusk spears.
Flanks walls, pack I derm trunk snake
ANSwer: blind faith tale's trumps wake.

Guard from blind minds blind
Leads up undermined mined path
As grass green scene signed
Shows more than meets eye. debunk
Surface virid, vivid drunk.

The Blind Men and the Elephant
It was six men of Hindostan
To learning much inclined
Who went to see the Elephant
[Though all of them were blind];
That each by observation
Might satisfy his mind.

The first approached the Elephant,
And happening to fall
Against his broad and sturdy side,
At once began to bawl:
"Bless me, it seems the Elephant
Is very like a wall."

The second, feeling of his tusk,
Cried, "Ho! what have we here
So very round and smooth and sharp.
To me ‘tis mighty clear
This wonder of an Elephant
Is very like a spear."

The third approached the animal,
And happening to take

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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What is it?

What is it that looks like an ant?
Walks like an ant, falls in line like an ant,
Smells like an ant, eats like an ant,
Crawls like an ant, and thinks like an ant.

Of course, nothing but

An ant

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Old Snake-Doctor

Once I found an ant-lion's hole
And an ant-lion in it: nippers
Like a pair of rusty clippers.
And I saw a red ant roll
In its pit, and, quick as Ned,
This old ant-lion fanged its head,
Held it till the ant was dead.

II.

And I told my father: he
Smiled and said, 'He beats the dickens,
With his pinchers; even chickens
Have n't his voracity.
Think now what he would have done
Had you been an ant, my son,
Fallen in that pit like one.

III.

'Daniel in the lion's den!
Guess you'd come home good and gory.
But now here's another story:
You should see these ant-lions when
They have wings; and, blue and green,
Ponds and pools they fly between:
Prettiest things I've ever seen.

IV.

'Look just like the dragonflies;
And perhaps they are snake-feeders;
Name you'll never find in Readers
Read at school: but, I surmise,
Dragonflies are not the same
As these old snake-doctors; name
For which I am not to blame.

V.

'Who's to blame then? If it's not
I or, say, the dictionary,
Since we two seem so contráry,
Must be that old ant-lion what
Can't content itself, that's plain,
With its bug-estate; remain
Just a bug in sun and rain.

VI.

[...] Read more

poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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We Must Be Liberal

I remember when I called you a honky.
And you called me a black ugly monkey.
Now both of us ride on a donkey.
'Haw hee haw.'

The brainiacs are on the attack.
Trying to cover their dirty tracks.
Those conservative try to debate...
How an elephant's gait can keep up the pace.

'Haw hee haw.'

I remember when I called you a honky.
And you called me a black ugly monkey.
Now both of us ride on a donkey.
'Haw hee haw.'

I remember when I called you a honky.
And you called me a black ugly monkey.
Now both of us ride on a donkey.
'Haw hee haw.'

Are we liberal?
'Haw hee haw haw...whoa!
I don't know that.
But an elephant's trying to crush my back! '

Are we liberal?
'Haw hee haw haw...whoa!
I don't know that.
But an elephant's trying to crush my back! '

The brainiacs are on the attack.
Trying to cover their dirty tracks.
Those conservative try to debate...
How an elephant's gait can keep up the pace.

'Haw hee haw haw...whoa!

Are we liberal?
'Haw hee haw haw...whoa!
I don't know that.
But an elephant's trying to crush my back! '

Are we liberal?
'Haw hee haw haw...whoa! '
Are we liberal?
'Haw hee haw haw...whoa! '
Are we liberal?
'Haw hee haw haw...whoa! '

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ant

There's an ant crawling up your back in the nighttime
There's an ant crawling up your back in the nighttime
But you think that's okay while you're sleeping
That ant crawls in your head in the nighttime
That ant crawled in your head in the nighttime
But you think that's okay while you're sleeping
Someday, that ant, he will grow up to be President
Someday, that ant, he will grow up to be President
But you think that's okay while you're sleeping
The President calls your name in the nighttime
The President calls your name in the nighttime
But you think that's okay while you're sleeping
The men ransack your house in the nighttime
The men ransack your house in the nighttime
As the ant crawls up your back while you're sleeping

song performed by They Might Be Giants
Added by Lucian Velea
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If there's God why I die

‘’Is there God then why I die’’
Wife of ant says
‘’ Why wife of ant says if there’s God
Why I die, filthy feminine house I will
Burn down and leave’’
God says

‘’Is there God then why my children die’’
Wife of ant says’’
‘’Why wife of ant says if there’s God
Why my children die, filthy clitorising rain giraffe, I will sow seed of hairy itching grass under her feet, will grow to waist’’
God says

Wife ant opened her head to sun
She asks
‘’ Is there anything worst on earth than
Soaking of my waist in mourning tears for years
Wuw nothing’’
God rubbed his nose, nguu….
Says ‘’I will see who’s strong
Me or wife of ant

Ninety days later
Wife of man whom God nickname as ant
Whelped puppy
Strange, horrible and unnatural
‘’O God, why my wife give to puppy’’
Man prayed

‘’ To teach your wife lesson
So tomorrow she’ll not mock me again
If she attempt, I wipe off her eyes in world
And her seed will not grow on earth
My land’’
God says

poem by David Aoloch Bion
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The Incubus

Who wants a nice white elephant,
Quite fit in wind and limb?
An ornament for any gent
Who can find use for him.
It won't pay us to kill the cuss;
But we can't afford his keep.
Who wants a nice white elephant?
We'll sell or lease him cheap.

Who wants a nice white elephant?
He'd make a lovely pet.
In rich, fat days we loved his way,
But in these times of fret
He's sort of grown too big for us
To fondle, groom and feed.
Who wants a fine white elephant
Of most exclusive breed?

Who wants a nice white elephant?
Of noble lineage he.
His breed is by State Jealousy
Out of Prosperity.
The rich years thro' he grew and grew,
And, ah, we loved him so.
But we can't afford his bed and board,
And we'd like to let him go.

Who'll buy a nice white elephant?
No decent bid refused.
We love him yet, altho' our pet
Has often been abused.
But come on, gents, walk up, walk up.
Our funds, alas, are scant.
Altho' we once were sold a pup
Who'll buy an elephant?

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Xtc Vs. Adam Ant

Xtc versus adam ant
Content versus form
Fighting for their place in rock and roll
There is no right or wrong
Just when you think it's finished
With xtc on top
Ant music, like a phoenix
Flies back up the charts
Xtc versus adam ant
Only one will survive
Beatle-based pop versus new romantic
History will decide
Xtc versus adam ant
I can't tell you why
Even the singer from bow wow wow
Can't make up her mind
Xtc versus adam ant
Time is marching on
Xtc versus adam ant
There is no right or wrong
There is no right or wrong
There is
No right
Or wrong

song performed by They Might Be Giants
Added by Lucian Velea
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Richard of Almaigne

A ballad made by one of the adherents to Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, soon after the battle of Lewes, which was fought May 14, 1264.

Sitteth alle stille, ant herkneth to me;
The Kyng of Alemaigne, bi mi leaute,
Thritti thousent pound askede he
For te make the pees in the countre,
Ant so he dude more.
Richard, thah thou he ever trichard,
Trichthen shalt thou never more.

Richard of Alemaigne, whil that he wes kying,
He spende al is tresour opon swyvyng,
Haveth he nout of Walingford oferlyng,
Let him habbe, ase he brew, bale to dryng,
Maugre Windesore,
Richard, thah thou he ever trichard,
Trichthen shalt thou never more.

The Kyng of Alemaigne wende do ful wel,
He saisede the mulne for a castel,
With hare sharpe swerdes he grounde the stel,
He wende that the sayles were mangonel
To helpe Wyndesore.
Richard, thah thou he ever trichard,
Trichthen shalt thou never more.

The Kyng of Alemaigne gederede ys host,
Makede him a castel of a mulne post,
Wende with is prude, ant is muchele bost,
Brohte from Alemayne mony sori gost
To store Wyndesore.
Richard, thah thou he ever trichard,
Trichthen shalt thou never more.

By God, that is aboven ous, he dude muche synne,
That lette passen over see the Erl of Warynne:
He hath robbed Engelond, the mores, ant th fenne,
The gold, ant the selver, and y-boren henne,
For love of Wyndesore.
Richard, thah thou he ever trichard,
Trichthen shalt thou never more.

Sire Simond de Mountfort hath suore bi ys chyn,
Hevede he nou here the Erl of Waryn,
Shuld he never more come to is yn,
Ne with held, ne with spere, ne with other gyn,
To help of Wyndesore.
Richard, thah thou he ever trichard,
Trichthen shalt thou never more.

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Olde English
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‘I’m Anna! ’ - Movement: Poem on Corruption in India

The poor become poorer each day
The rich turn richer every way
Corruption is the cause that may
Prevent a nation’s progress, Aye!

Corruption rules the world in ways
Indiscernible yet, always;
The common man’s heart, mind and face
Reveals the menace in each case

Corruption wears so many masks;
The corrupt in lucre’s sun basks;
All accept it and no one asks,
‘Why burden-some turn daily tasks? ’

Corruption has gone too rampant;
It runs amok like an elephant;
The poor man’s life is like an ant;
Mass rallies slogans only chant.

The war to curb corruption’s on;
Good youth in India have been born;
The people get gleanings of corn,
While sheaves in rich men’s homes adorn.

Corruption’s the cause of price-rise;
Share-markets play a game like dice;
Taxes have grown mammoth in size;
A tax-payer ashamed then dies.

Which leader will then stem this rot?
– Democracy is badly caught;
The fight must be much bravely fought
Till freedom after Freedom’s got!
Dedicated to ‘ I’m Anna! ’ movement hero in India
Shri. Anna Hazare

Copyright by Dr John Celes 21-08-11

poem by John Celes
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The Pangolin

Another armored animal–scale
lapping scale with spruce-cone regularity until they
form the uninterrupted central
tail row! This near artichoke with head and legs and
grit-equipped gizzard,
the night miniature artist engineer is,
yes, Leonardo da Vinci’s replica–
impressive animal and toiler of whom we seldom hear.
Armor seems extra. But for him,
the closing ear-ridge–
or bare ear licking even this small
eminence and similarly safe
contracting nose and eye apertures
impenetrably closable, are not;–a true ant-eater,
not cockroach-eater, who endures
exhausting solitary trips through unfamiliar ground at night,
returning before sunrise; stepping in the moonlight,
on the moonlight peculiarly, that the outside
edges of his hands may bear the weight and save the
claws
for digging. Serpentined about
the tree, he draws
away from danger unpugnaciously,
with no sound but a harmless hiss; keeping
the fragile grace of the Thomas-
of-Leighton Buzzard Westminster Abbey wrought-iron
vine, or
rolls himself into a ball that has
power to defy all effort to unroll it; strongly intailed, neat
head for core, on neck not breaking off, with curled-in feet.
Nevertheless he has sting-proof scales; and nest
of rocks closed with earth from inside, which he can
thus darken.
Sun and moon and day and night and man and beast
each with a splendor
which man in all his vileness cannot
set aside; each with an excellence!
"Fearful yet to be feared," the armored
ant-eater met by the driver-ant does not turn back, but
engulfs what he can, the flattered sword-
edged leafpoints on the tail and artichoke set leg-and
body-plates
quivering violently when it retaliates
and swarms on him. Compact like the furled fringed frill
on the hat-brim of Gargallo’s hollow iron head of a
matador, he will drop and will
then walk away
unhurt, although if unintruded on,
he cautiously works down the tree, helped
by his tail. The giant-pangolin-

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poem by Marianne Moore
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The Cassinga jump

Fear and tension was written over the faces
of paratroopers next to,
in front and at the back of me
when the red light
began to flash in the Hercules
and we went to action stations
still skimming barely over the tops
of taller trees at about two hundred feet
and most of us had two weeks earlier
been home at our civilian jobs.

One paratrooper vomited
right over me in yellow stinking
half fermented food
and the retching smell
made me nauseas as well
while the aircraft pitched steeply
with its last-minute manoeuvres
coming to jumping height
of eight hundred feet.

Mushroom clouds left by exploding bombs
billowed up from Cassinga
and in trenches I saw
people shooting upwards at us
and suddenly bombers dived
through our formation.

The sticks in front of me jumped
and air rushed into my face
at the open door
while the pit of my stomach went numb
and I stepped into space
falling, falling and seeing
a rocket-propelled grenade exploding
near the aircraft above me
and it veering away.

While the opening parachute jerked me up
I heard the deep roar
of a anti-aircraft gun
shooting from below
and it was clear that we
had jumped later
than we were supposed to
or the dropping zone
was too small to take
a full stick
of thirty-two paratroopers at a time.

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poem by Gert Strydom
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