Poems
14.03.2010 / 17.33 pm
 
by William Ewart Gladstone Louw
Rating: 0.00
Votes: 0
Vir Ernst


Niks sal ooit weer wees soos dit daardie somer was:
die water van die Spiegelgracht l swart soos glas;

die bre, bo, bome en lampe ry op ry
wieg lui-lui heen en weer as 'n bootjie daaroor gly;

en deur die mis wat instoot van die see terwyl
die skemer teen die gewels styg, klink vr en yl,

asof gesprinkel, 'n wysietjie uit 'n toringklok.
Maar dis reeds oorlog! Di besef tref skielik met 'n skok!

Ons wis dit sker 'n herfsmiddag, later, toe eindelik
ons skip die oop see kies en ons 'n laaste blik

vergun word van die kus - die strand, die kaal, wit duin
en 'n vuurtoring, donker, teen die donker, lae kruin;

en toe, 'n kwartiertjie later, in die Noordsee, mis ons boot
rakelings 'n myn wat los dryf in die see - en ns die dood.

Ons vaar dan verder: 'n helder driekleur aan die mas ...
Maar niks sou ooit weer wees, soos dit daardie somer was.


1 2 3 4 5

No comments
Post your comments and praises as well as critique but remember to keep your language clean and inoffensive.
Your name
Your comment
No poems
George SantayanaGeorge Santayana (9)
(1863 - 1952)
George Santayana was a philosopher, essayist, poet, and novelist.
Delmore SchwartzDelmore Schwartz (13)
(1913 - 1966)
Was an American poet from Brooklyn, New York.
James WrightJames Wright (7)
(1927 - 1980)
Was a Pulitzer Prize-winning American poet.
Victoria Sackville-WestVictoria Sackville-West (6)
(1892 - 1962)
Was an English poet, novelist and gardener. Her long narrative poem, The Land, won the Hawthornden Prize in 1927.

The Green Bowl

This little bowl is like a mossy pool
In a Spring wood, where dogtooth violets grow
Rating: 0.00
Votes: 0
 

A Day Dream

On a sunny brae, alone I lay
One summer afternoon;
Rating: 5.00
Votes: 1
 

In The Moonlight

The moon is bright, and the winds are laid, and the river is roaring by;
Orion swings, with his belted lights low down in the western sky;
Rating: 0.00
Votes: 0
 

Has My Heart Gone To Sleep?

Has my heart gone to sleep?
Have the beehives of my dreams
Rating: 4.33
Votes: 3
 

Winged Man

The moon, a sweeping scimitar, dipped in the stormy straits,
The dawn, a crimson cataract, burst through the eastern gates,
Rating: 0.00
Votes: 0
 








Forgot you password?