Best Sy Poems
Spring Enchantment (a love poem)
As wisps of clouds creeped
overhead before a storm moving quickly east,
the moon lay down his vanilla beams
to dispel the darkness hiding our bared feet —
set side by side — romantically
touching for warmth, for love, for eternity,
hopefully, to envelop us, like the coming rain
in our lives’ thundering, combined heartbeats
…joined into those duets passion will release
all about from the great springs of yearning.
(c) s.y. Eslinger 3/2024
Thanks be to God——
Ek was gevra om ietsie oor Pa te sê
Maar waar begin ek nou
Wanneer daar eintlik net een ding is wat ek nou wil doen
Om steeds my arms om Pa te vou
Maar nou is Pa weg
Na ‘n plek waar Pa tog graag wou wees
Bo by Liewe Jesus
Maar bly steeds hier by ons in gees
‘n Man met ‘n hart van goud
Wie slegs goeie dinge oor mense kon sê
‘n Bonatuurlike liefde vir ons
En wie slegs die beste vir sy kinders wou hê
Streng het ons grootgeword
Maar dit was oor Pa lief was vir ons
En alles wat ek as Pa se dogter wou hê
Was dat ek Pa se hart van trotsheid laat bons
Nou is ons Pa en Ma se maatjie weg
Ons belowe om mekaar te ondersteun
En aan die herinneringe te hou van ‘n besonderse man
Wat God slegs vir ons kon leen
‘n Man met ‘n Hart van goud
Dit is hoe ek Pa altyd sal onthou
En nou is dit tyd om totsiens te sê
Al wens ek, ek kon steeds my arms om Pa vou
*Dear PoetrySoup Members. I apologise to those of you who does not understand Afrikaans, but this poem is dedicated to a dear friend of mine who is Afrikaans. She told me a little bit about her father who recently passed on and I decided to put it together in a poem for her. I hope you guys do not mind. TS poetry was an absolute gem and translated what I wrote in my poem in his comment below. Thank you TS Poetry*
Wie waak oor ons gans die wakkernag?
Vind sondes.lank vergete
n aanklag eggo in die gewete
Dalk net stank demone
Wat slaaploos toi-toi in talle drome
Watter wekker skrik sy meester kaal
Wyl hy rondtol.in n lakenhel?
Skape, pennies en sy woorde tel
Of plak gebede saam met drome vas
Teen blank plafonne en die linnekas?
En ook skimme wat eens mense was
n vingerskrif op die klagstaat straf
Ander sluimer niksbeduidend
Wereld werk nog steeds misleidend
Introspeksie hou het geen verband
Onwelkom het net ingekom
Soos infeksie in n agtertand
Prokureur teem onbeholpe
'k kort n advokaat
n leuenverklikker wat moet wèèt waarvan hy praat
Opgetof en opgetoga en n omkoopmagistraat
Sinies en insomnies
naghof ronddool in n doodloopstraat
Wie sake uitgooi maar dan skelm uitstel
Weereens more ons beroof van geld en slaap
Catching Moon Sighs
From time to time
as clouds pass
— those plumpted puffs —
touring by
…Out
from behind them
a
Night’s lit
Blink!
will occur
for:
T’is our
Moon sighing
at Time’s insistent nudges
to fleet on by
And at which overseeing Venus
winks her sympathies…
(c) s.y. eslinger6/2024
Beyond the Black Fence
By Sy Roth
The land lay fallow
Beyond the black fence.
Growth once dressed in a white blanket of hoar in winter landscapes
Lush in summer months
Deer speckled backdrop
Munched all day behind a scrim of lush camouflage
And black birds rested on the scrub
Coupled with the land and each other
A fornucopia of perpetuation.
But like time
It marched in to war on its own turf--
The cranes, yellow tractor-footed creatures
Tore at the soil and formed mountains of dirt
That wild (plants?) draped over
And the long-necked (?) concrete spreaders
Filled the gaping foundations with its gray slush
And the deer fled
And the black birds had resting places on the open rooftops
And the last trees crumbled to the diesel monsters
Where future houses will stack itself with the firewood
Of septuagenarians and those who aspire to end that race.
Incessant noise of change
A cock-a-doodle-doo alarm
On the other side of the black fence
My side where I find comfort in a book
And a drink to whet my appetite
And conjure up the images of the verdant green that once was
And the hoary land that once was my winter vista
** What’s Torn **
What’s been torn off or away may be
a recurring theme — of dreams or memory —
that nags, popping up unexpectedly
to recall or, for dear losses, again grieve…
The things thieved
from life — as divinely conceied,
like the Amazon forest’s trees —
don’t leave, but remain in a spectral reality…
What’s been torn away
may similarly refuse to leave —
like my calve, cut from my body, will scream,
sending phantom pain in suffered agonies…
What was seized from me on that mournful day,
— sculpted by dancing ballet for a decade,
stayed as I went from anestesized to awake
into a daytime nightmare without any escape…
When life sends us to dire places,
where hopelessness would subjugate us,
God will guard our souls and grace us
with a strength: resounding to the soul…
Left ragged, like having my health fail
in reaching goals, I will feel my heart wail
near breaking, but I refuse to let my faith pale
…believing the prayers of heaven will entail
blessings to help all God’s children prevail.
—————————
((c) s.y..eslinger 3/2024
**an addition to “On Phantom Pain” poem still in progress at this time
Two Dogs at the Gateway
By Sy Roth
They slurped their saliva,
huge globs,
big, barking mouthfuls
dripping from their jowls like milky icicles
Teeth-bared lips,
They guarded the gateway.
Pleased by their vacated spittle,
their noses now sniffed the air, and
like a marching band of electric ants
they ogled the nearing invader.
Anew, the soppy, conglomeration of spittle
wells at their muzzles
forming a frothy milkshake
determined to expel the approaching trespasser.
His hands stretched out flat in peaceful kindness,
prophylactic, heavy-breathing
moseying him to the gateway
wraps him in a pulsing eagerness.
A satyr’s blessing upon him as he approaches
Where the two dogs growled ominous presentiments--
Twin Cerberuses,
Headache kin of dashed wishes.
Evening shadows stifle all desires.
Lips part in anticlimax.
He rolls to the other side
away from the yapping hounds,
away from the uncomfortable pauses,
away from the anticipation
onto a sterile, flattened field
where done yet reeks of a flaccid fantasy.
A grotesquery of mordant imagination
content to sleep on the other side of the booming roar
away from the slurping beasts,
he drops hands down to his side.
Tomorrows march on and the gateway,
a finale wrapped in the twins’ slurping,
slams shut.
Konkas draw a blanket over the flats,
but our state live like over fed fat cats
Zuma had another great opinion,
now we must dream of a Rand reunion
People crying, life’s an uncertain fate,
but they are building another toll gate
Nkandla was built for his many wives
"Fire pool" just brings out our angry knives
All the voters wanted; a piece of bread!
Now even the family pet is dead
Zuma laughs and hands his dog some biltong
and sings another ushini kill song
We are done with this sick gravy train gang
The day has come for the biltong to hang
Konka : drum with holes for fire keeping warm makes smoke
flats: slang for cape flats…a area people stay
Rand: South African currency
Nkandla: Zuma’s estate “upgrade” used 270 million rand of taxpayer’s money
fire pool: what he called the swimming pool in upgrade scandal
Ushini: machine gun struggle song used to sweep up support
Biltong: luxury food similar to beef jerky..is hung to dry when made
Zuma : corrupt president of South Africa
#zumamustfall
original I wrote
Biltong en Brood
Konkas trek n kombers oor die vlaktes,
maar die staat luister nie meer na klagtes
Zuma het nou eers weer n opienie,
en nou hou ons vir die Rand ruinie
Ons het geen werk en tot ons honde vrek,
maar die staat beplan net nog n duur toll hek
Nkandla waar hy sy vroue huisves
maar dit bereik net vuur emmers moles
Die kiesers vra net n klien stukkie brood
maar hy se dis n leun die hongersnood!
Zuma lag en gee biltong vir sy hond
Hy smeer botter om die kiesers se mond
Ons staan op en sal ons nie weer laat vang
Die dag het gekom, dat die biltong sal hang
#1
Strap on nice and tight
where the night knows what to say
can you feel it now?
#2
Jaws dropped to the floor
come touch my sexy headlights
window screen shut
#3
Protections breaks
hard wood moves towards velvet lips
white stains on my chest
Sandy I
11-8-12
Her love is more than a small child’s first word
My mother’s heart and love, one in a chord
She lived all my childhood dreams in adore
With wisdom and love allowed them to soar
When breakers of her life beat at the door,
she made beaches of pain instead of war
Her life taught her to value and treasure
people’s friendship, respect, this her measure
Her face reflects her life in soft wrinkles,
a path by His hand with life love sprinkles
Her wrinkles life events now in the past
She’s thankful and now wrapped in peace at last
Her husband in heaven, and we are sad
She shares the face of love, waiting for dad
-----------------------------------------------
Below the original I wrote for my mother
God se Gesig
Liefde is meer as n klein kinder woord
Liefde en my ma se hart in akoord
Sy het my kinder droome elk deurleef
en met wysheid en liefde hul laat sweef
Toe die lewens branders slaan teen haar deur
maak sy strande plaas van rotse van seer
Die lewe haar geleer om te begeer,
verhoudings met mense, diep vas in eer
Haar gesig spieel haar lewe in ploeie
Pad gestap aan Sy hand in die mooie
Plooi gebeure los sy in verlede,
dankbaar vir als toegedraai in vrede
Haar hart in die hemel maar, gelukkig,
deel sy nog God se gesig, geduldig
Yo check it…
Dis classy lady she been cruizin’ da lanes
Just chillin on da road tryin ta ease her pains
Yeah mmm… mmm… mmm
Yeah
Tryin ta ease her pains
When befoe da eyes such a sight came to be
Da most beauteous car in his-to-ry
Yeah dats it
In history
It sent her mind outta control creatin’ thoughts
Her fan-ta-sy
Mm… hmmm her fantasy
Check it
Dis is what she saw-
Midnight blue wit purple bling
sparkles so fine it make her sing
ah ah ah… nah… uh uh uh
She want it bad
Yeah
She want it bad
Her fan-ta-sy to be complete
Need a man to make her scream
Yeah mmm… mmm… mmm
Make her scream
He tall, and dark and oh so wild
Recitin’ da poems like in her dream
An in her hand going down da road
She hold her love
Dat sweet ice cream
Yeah mmm… mmm… mmm
Dat sweet ice cream
Die Lewens gang
So dwaal ek rond in die lewens gang
vol van verlange en oral teen di mure
hang potrete van herineringe.
Die tyd het geloop sy eie loop
geloop. Hy het ons mee gesleep en
wys gemaak. Tyd het geleer ons
geleer dat ale wonde genees, maar
tyd was ook te kort om vergaane
geliefdes weer te groet.
Soms is ons spyt gewees, soms het
ons net n sug van verligting, tyd sal
ons weer verder vat, Die onbekende
in die lewens lange gang af en oral
sal daar weer nog potrete by kom
van vriende en geliefdes wat in die
niet verdwyn. Maar die herinepringe
sal weer trug kom waneer ons stil
raak en trug blik na tye wat verby is.
Daar loop weer 2rye spore deur my
lewe, soos in die lewens gang van
ons lewe, verskyn daar ook n potrret
van jou op my muur, en ek weet uit
eindelik is jy ook op geteken in my
lewe. My gemoed raak stil want soos
van soveel kere van tevore moet ek
woner sal die potret bly hang, want
hier in die gang van di lewe is daar
onbekende dinge, dinge wat kan
uitwis dit wat eens mooi was. Dinge
wat gedagtes kan sper en gevoelens
kan koud laat, en ek skuif die prent
weer reg want met vetroue en geloof
sal die potret ook bly hang en die
kloue van liefde sal hou en nie laat
gaan.
Want die gang van die lewe is nooit
reguit nie.
Nuwe uit dagings wag. Om elke
draai, maar as ons om ons heen kyk
is ons geliefde daar, om te help te
hou op dit wat reg en eg is.
Want die mense rondom ons sien n
masker n masker wat niemand
behalwe ons geliefdes weet wat
agter aan gaan nie
Wi T hdrawing
Be H avior
Co R ners
Wh E never
El E vated.
Al W ays
Gl O omful,
Ci R culate
In D ifferences.
Ch A ngeabilities
De C lares,
Ci R cumstances
Th O ughtfully
Sy S temize
Ac T ivates,
AmI cably,
Ex C eeds
As S ertiveness.
2019 September 28
'n Oomblik waardig van afsondering
'n Vreemdeling nie deur ander gesien
Is ons die verlate?
Is ons die verlater?
Lewe in die nag om sy wreedheid te skuil
Hul gesigte belig die skerms
Die rykes maak geld uit dié oorlog
Die sterftesyfer styg
Nog 'n verraaier
Die leuenaar, die patriot
Hoeveel leuens, hoeveel sterftes
Afgemaai soos 'n lam wat geslag word
Nog 'n spook vir jou verlede
Nog 'n gelowige, nog 'n slagoffer
Ken nie die pad van die tou na die vloer
Kyk in die gesig van die wat jou verraai
Jy is die gejagte, die slagoffer, die prooi en die vervalle
Ons sterf almal alleen.
Thinking about Brian's recent Footle contest (my crazy eyes had been seeing FOOTIE all this
time and just realized yesterday it is called FOOTLE with LE on the end) I proceeded to drive
to the movie up in Salt Lake, only place I was able to catch a showing of Chloe. As I drove
up there, I was racking my brain for a Footle, and suddenly, they started coming to me.
They are so short, I could easily jot them down on paper atop my steering wheel and it was
a great way to occupy my time. Brian's little contest was a great inspiration for me. I ended
up with more than thirty (I thought they needed to be rhymed on both syllables) so now that
I know I can do the first syllable unrhymed, that should make it all the more easier to think
up even more. Please let me know your favorite of the bunch and the ones that are too
stupid in case I ever do a chapbook on these! YOu guys gotta try these. The trick is to
rhyme the words and then make a title to fit the poem! LUv, Andrea
Pickpocket Bunny
Grab it
Rabbit
Offspring of Tinkerbell & Frodo
Hairy
Fairy
Gerber’s Strained Peas
Easy
Pea sy
Shirley Temple with a perm
SURELY
Curly
Mrs. Ed on Laughing Gas
Silly
Filly
A Greeter
Hello
Fellow
Art of Love
Hold ‘er
Mold’ er
Survivor Food
Lizards’
Gizzards
Grape Jelly Kiss
Smucker
Pucker
Sour Lemons’ Motto
Blew it!
Screw it!