On patrol in the African bush
The LMG was getting heavy and hot
in my hands
and somehow the H-frame
became a part of my shoulders and back
and the stinging and unremitting African sun
was taking the last moisture out of us.
From nowhere some gnats appeared
and hang circling,
above our heads
Thirst was burning my throat
like scraping sandpaper,
but we could smell the river
and its cold water
looked inviting to us.
We were spread in an attack formation
and the squad was armed with
two LMG’s, a mortar
and R1-assault rifles.
The enemy tracks disappeared
near to the river
and we swerved to comb the banks,
to find the crossing point.
and we were at our nerves edge
and ready for fighting action.
Some tiny ripples appeared in the river
before the water at the riverside erupted
and three menacing happy snapper’s,
came fighting mad from the tranquil river.
Out of the nearest bush
an angry young lion rushed,
dragging a young gemsbok
away from the river.
With snapping jaws three crocodiles,
went for the astonished lion.
The lion roared in anger
and stood its ground,
but there were three jaws
opening and closing
with snapping teeth.
We froze and stared astounded
and saw the lion
tearing away into the bush
[...] Read more
poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
