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Witchcraft: At The Light Of Day

At the light of day I know that we are separated
and for years I am bewitched,
now that you stay with another man,

maybe lifelong something remains
and when I am alone, it’s your image that sneaks into my dreams
and for years I am bewitched

and sometimes when the night sneaks up on me
I know that nobody can stay alone forever
and when I am alone it’s your image that sneaks into my dreams

but time runs on with years passing
and I decide to expel this witchcraft
I know that nobody can stay alone forever

and I exorcise your whole soul, face and body
from how it had been once
and I decide to expel this witchcraft,

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poem by Gert Strydom
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The hunter

With a bow in his hand
the hunter sneaks
above the wind,
following the tracts
of the wild antelope.

His brown skin
melts into the field
and the bushes,
and like a wild cat
he sneaks
from cover to cover.

The sun is hot
where it hangs in the half-Kalahari sky
and he drinks a tiny bit of water
out of the ostrich egg flask,
before a brown hand
with caked sand
wipes sweat out of his dark brown eyes.

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poem by Gert Strydom
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To someone that I loved

I. The odours of jasmine

The odours of jasmine, gardenia
and lavender sneaks in
through the room’s window
and it smells like a perfumery

while rays upon rays march over the bed
climbing over your arms, body and legs
while we lie stretched out
close to each other,

ignoring the sounds from the street,
where cars rush by,
the barks of the dogs
yelping at passing strangers,

only when you wake up,
I draw the curtains shut
as we feel the coldness of twilight

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poem by Gert Strydom
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In Spadger's Lane

Ole Mother Moon 'oo yanks 'er beamin' dile
Acrost the sky when we've grown sick o' day,
She's like some fat ole Jane 'oo loves to smile
On all concerned, an' smooth our faults away;
An', like a woman, tries to 'ide again
The sores an' scars crool day 'as made too plain.

To all the earth she gives the soft glad-eye;
She picks no fav'rits in this world o' men;
She peeps in nooks, where 'appy lovers sigh,
To make their job more bonzer still; an' then,
O'er Spadger's Lane she waves a podgy 'and,
An' turns the scowlin' slums to Fairyland.

Aw, strike! I'm gettin' soft in my ole age!
I'm growin' mushy wiv the passin' years.
Me! that 'as called it weakness to ingage
In sloppy thorts that coax the pearly tears.
But say, me state o' mind I can't ixplain
When I seen Rose lars' night in Spadger's Lane.

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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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A full red moon hangs in the night sky

A full red moon
hangs in the night sky
and birds fly past in silhouette

and the leopard
in my soul jumps out
to take the tract
and roars resounding in the dark night
and sneaks, sneaks past
till where you wait for me.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Civet

At night a civet
sneaks around in the chicken pen,
biting Bantam-fowls, big white Leghorns
and every chicken
that it finds dead.

At sunrise it is gone,
with dead chickens lying in a row
while those that it could not find
are cackling frightened
as if a snake is in their nests.

In the mornings mom is way past angry,
buys a spring trap
to catch the chicken thief red handed
and to me the teeth
that springs shut
looks strange and deadly.

The spring trap is set

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poem by Gert Strydom
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Witchcraft

At sunrise I know that we have parted
and that you now have someone else
and it feels perverse
that you now love someone else more than me

and for years I am enchanted
maybe through my whole life something is left
of you beating in side of me
and still something of that love is lasting,
although I have lost you

and sometimes when darkness sneaks up on me,
when I am alone and your image sneaks into my dreams
I want to ask you to leave and to bewitch someone else

and no person can forever stay single
as time goes on, with passing years
and vainly I hope
to have you again

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poem by Gert Strydom
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Chariots Of Fire

The small dung beetles lot is a chariot of fire
For some it is a life of a slinking liar,
To get a wife he has to be tall
Fact is some are dam too small.
To get among the hen pecking lot
The big fellow has an easy choice on the spot,
After a hard day’s work rolling up the dung
He’s off home to his wife for dinner and fun.
The little chap dines alone like a single sire
Now for fun he saddles up his chariot of fire,
He rides off to the big guys love nest without any din
Sneaks past him, up to the loft for his wages of sin.
The beetle chick loves him for his gallantry and guts
Gives him love and dung biscuits in his hand she puts,
On his chariot of fire He sneaks off into the night
Silent satisfied disappears out of sight.

NB. FACT
Scientists found this behaviour of the smaller
Beetles and when dissecting them found the

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poem by Ken e Hall
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Exclusively Aloof

You dip in your evils.
While others choose to sneak,
On those who sleep.

You dip in your evils.
While others choose to sneak,
On those who sleep.

There are sneaks and evil people...
Creeping up on people.

But I find that I am,
Exclusively elusive.
And I find that I can be exclusively aloof.
Yes I find that I can be exclusively elusive,
Caring less I'm in the loop.
As you and other people,
Can choose those things you do.

You dip in your evils.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Molester Lusting

Good fortune can leave anyone to bleed.
When the materialism of its worship,
Disappears mysteriously...
From a purpose thirsted.

Like a thief that sneaks,
And takes from hidden shadows...
Without a word to seize and reap.

Theft can make someone to grieve.
Like a molester lusting.
To pounce upon from darkness.
And determined to satisfy selfish needs.

Like a molester lusting...
People feed.
Like a molester lusting...
To take and seize.
Like a molester lusting...
Hopelessly.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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