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Gerrit Verstraete Poem
1
I came walking on daytime’s wake
a pigment dry palette of dreams
filled my pockets with hope
digitally mastered visions of glory
fuel for the broken fires of passion
each step of the journey a trial
each path a temptation to believe
tomorrow will be the end of today
where strangers I have met
on the road to distant vanishing points
in step with eternal drums
dogs who beg for mercy crumbs
from the master’s table
for those who find the empty stable
I am Cerulean
the long distance voyager
2
robed in sky blue fusion fabric
patterned after ancient promises
steeped in salt flats time trials
to set new records for obedience
speed the nemesis of costly delay
all for a search without ending
a city a gate a massive pearl
wisdom not her only treasure
lost in the turmoil of rhetoric
and endless spiral speculation
I took a turn to the narrow left
and hid my face in the borrowed cleft
for fear of judgment’s bloody arm
to raise my banner of alarm
I am Cerulean
the long distance voyager
3
only I know the forest highways
oceans running long beach shores
snow capped mountain hideaways
among the thickets of sleepless nights
stone fences closing war torn borders
to the eyes of media madness
who cannot close the credibility gap
between their surgically guarded ears
and fumes that fill reality playgrounds
bursting veins with profitable intentions
spilling children’s crying laughter
among medicated claims of peace hereafter
I know the headlines are for eating
the taxman’s trade for cheating
I am Cerulean
the long distance voyager
4
meadows green with limestone caverns
rivers stocked with seamless flowers
valleys cut by deep dish pizza
fountains fill the blackened void
fragments of imagination
comfort words in bits and bytes
nightime memory analysis
of what I thought I could see
beyond flesh and bone and mortar
casino lights with smoking embers
easy picking on empty heart strings
wishful thinking on eagles’ wings
only to hear a pounding hollow echo
let it go let the whole thing go
I am Cerulean
the long distance voyager
Copyright © Gerrit Verstraete | Year Posted 2007
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Gerrit Verstraete Poem
5
morning soon with cobalt sunrise
scarlet banners in the sea
pockets of fog hang in the balance
weights and counterweights prepare
to launch another day of searching
shark infested mine fields await
truth contested answers sadly
alone on the road to jericho
few to hold my blistered hands
in the company of angels wishing
litanies of theosophical litigation play
the fine art of heaven’s delay
fire and brimstone lovers leap
no will to climb the canyon steep
I am Cerulean
the long distance voyager
6
ready for the fight
laden beast of burden light
guide me through the slippery night
from this no man island home
oasis of bipolar green
fed by desert venom stream
on highwires of opinion
leaving arts creative kin
drybed intelligence has been
known to catch the ferry late
artificial armour of resolve
soft underbelly convictions
dissolve
7
wasted wormwood weldwood years
accusing fingers of suspicion
lawless hands admission
grow-op shameless exhibition
cold the beaches brickyard stare
as forest giants dare
to cut the timber weeping
urban fight with rural weapons
packed in peace at last
redeem her noble past
overload a memory with compassion
for the children of her dreams
acres of wishful thinking
never end it seems
I leave to catch the seven twenty
up the river diesel steams
my soul the pen of a ready writer
on a moon of full beams
8
I search and rescue run
concrete shoes my nemesis
rhythms of a broken highway
through crowded forest streets
in an age of deliverance
cloudscapes beckon warily
longships on sky lakes
to escape the winding shores
sunrise sunsets pardon
crimes of passion thinking
touch alone my arrowsmith
robed in virgin white
restless fog and pale visions
light the valley of tears
Copyright © Gerrit Verstraete | Year Posted 2007
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Gerrit Verstraete Poem
Gerrit Verstraete released his first book of selected poems titled “Mid-Seventies Crisis,” in
1980 ( Admiral Press, Canada ). “But,” he says, “it’s never too late. It’s not that I stopped
writing, I just didn’t know what to do first, draw, paint, write poetry, work on my novels,
write columns, and of course raise a large family together with my wife Alice.” A number of
his poems have been published in various magazines and publications, but his new
book “Cerulean Odyssey – the long distance voyager,” is the first volume of an epic poem he
began writing in 2004. Cerulean ( meaning sky blue ) is a personification of the artist’s
personal journey through the web and weave of life, a journey of art and faith that focuses
on Cerulean’s search for “the city of God, not built with human hands.”
The content of his new book is a contemporary style using conceptual imagery in a narrative
poetic manner. Much of the writing was inspired by his island surroundings, both on Gabriola
and Vancouver Island. One reader in New Zealand said, “Wow! I've now had my daily dose
of inspiration. Your visual poetry is truly powerful and transcending...I love how it reaches
out on so many levels and does not exclude anyone in its scope.” To date the epic ( in four
completed volumes – so far ) comprises over 500 tableaux or sketches ( individual poems )
with 200 in volume one.
The book is available online through Wordclay Publishers. The 6 X 9 volume is paperback,
full colour cover, and 124 pages at $25 US ( plus S & H ). Simply log on to
www.wordclay.com, select the “bookstore” and type in the author’s name: Gerrit Verstraete.
Lots more information about the book is posted. Currently Gerrit is writing the fifth volume of
the epic. So, if you’ve ever wanted to own a Verstraete for less than fifty bucks ( many know
him for his fine art drawings and abstract paintings ), enjoy a copy of “Cerulean Odyssey.”
Copyright © Gerrit Verstraete | Year Posted 2009
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Gerrit Verstraete Poem
13
bayside rumours of war
and flowers blossoming thirst
for sacrificial blood
cut my weeping heart out
ensure another flawless sunrise
confusion moments of despair
deceived beyond deception
their laboured cry heard no more
my voice remains
slower traffic keep right
my fist a burning piston
line upon line
precept upon precept
14
skies clear the flotsam rainclouds
suns shine on golden rivers
flooded roadways stagger forward
too much gain
after so much pain
justice limits speed at eighty
curtains of spray chase my tires
can anyone hear my song
of desolate seclusion
sanctuary studio walls witness
a lament for what went wrong
do not beat the eardrum primal
close the door to tears
tombs of unknown children
guardians of more broken dreams
15
the wind has fallen asleep
fanny bay comox valley green
redemption mountains
like a steel collar
on my brain
wood fires sweet aroma
put the burden down
to hold the hand of forgiveness
on a diamond ready gown
her with many crowns
gifts from heaven’s giver
father of the fatherless to all
who hear my voice mail call
come home to love’s oasis
in the valley of dry bones
turn around my dearest friend
do not look back
next week another leg of journey
on wounded knee I bow
16
you make my heart sing
truck stop chorus on a weary road
birds that pray for laughter
chatter well into the night
your peace child offers gently
to hold my horn of plenty
sometimes empty rivers well spring flow
and lay my head to rest
on your love eternal breast
drink deep the sounds of grace
I hold your candle burning
in the night time of my fears
to dream a while before the morning
to resume my long distance kingdom voyage
of these anointed chosen years
Copyright © Gerrit Verstraete | Year Posted 2007
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Gerrit Verstraete Poem
17
the narrow path took a sudden turn
I pushed the main sail west
where tiny tugs push giant timbers
portside down shivering rivers
to the end of broken islands
and ravens who fall asleep
no more stealing noon day’s sun
havoc on the steel grey highway
I asked where to my friend
listen to the voice I pondered
every thought I overheard
across a midnight madness ocean
do not pay till two thousand five
among the smouldering fires
of rusted vacant castles
beached below a popular tide
of sentimental sediment
a land far away but not forgotten
18
red and white blue brickyard
mason masterpiece in gold
spires bold and towers clapping
to a moon swept melody above
tiny dots in tiny places
windmill arms are waving
watery graves say hello
to friend and stranger wandering
cloudy motives squandering
on orange day parades
the ripped off royal banner
every man’s soiled linen cover
red light sin of the fathers
mothers cry for daughters lost
my home and land of natives
took my childhood away
19
stand up I push some reason
speak the voice of knowledge soon
wisdom cries in pain
for the ears of man are suffering
silence drives his soul insane
paint the gesture gently
or scratch the surface mean
secret streams of unknown lovers
writing dusty letters in the sands
of time worn airborne trials
hastily drawn across a window
to hide the gossip eyes that stare
for want of intelligent care
pollute the shallow pools of laughter
the trough lies naked bare
I am only passing through I beckon
reckon hands might hold my voice
interrupt the bar code worship
tempting endless feast of fools
20
second hand books in second hand stores
recycled commentary on ages past
dead to weary travelers
who need to know what lies ahead
on the sweating stars in their bed
leave the portholes open
winds of doctrine blowing through
cleanse the green paved pastures
prepare a table in the wilderness
spirit river flowing mercy
feet that dance in tidal pools
harvest endless nights of joy
listen carefully to the evening minstrel
a song to carry me through
before I turn back again
to push the main sail east
Copyright © Gerrit Verstraete | Year Posted 2007
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Gerrit Verstraete Poem
Cerulean Odyssey, Vol.5, No.12
hollow grams of weightless chatter
boxes full of empty shells
the only seed worth saving
generations of a scarlet thread
I catch myself flying much too high
bleak the landscape of the forgotten
in another city full of silent bones
stacked and ready for the tourists
miles and miles preposterous parade
six million was the last and counting
not like the valley of dry bones I’ve seen before
shivering on a deserted beach
footprints in the sand of a nowhere man
caught in traffic never moving
the hand of fear upon his head
no one’s there to ask the burning question
why me in this early morning fog
shifting shadows in an acid bath
four wheel drives stand idle grumbling
get me off this rock before my time
Copyright © Gerrit Verstraete | Year Posted 2010
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Gerrit Verstraete Poem
9
sometimes I see her near
sometimes I feel her clear
deep inside my heart ache
rest a while
my smouldering embers
on her moss green shoulders
the city dwelling surely
not that far away
I hear a distant drum beat rushing
bloodlines flowing rapids grand
in veins of buttermilk rejection breast
I began my epic journey
orange crate my early bed
shelter from pagan bombs
glass walls my domain
dot com a public address
do not forsake me lord
10
unfamiliar signposts ridicule
discipline lists to do
sandy rivers without bottom
water falls in endless pain
healed by some times laughter
her medicine forgiving
creation as she groans
longing for my footsteps
forward backward forward
three ahead
two behind
one more step for mankind
11
humble alpine meadows
cold snowpack coming
warning of long sleepless nights
if I tarry aimless hope
afraid of morning
be bold be strong
and be transparent
cry the voices in my head
pack my back with cream filled donuts
six pack coffee carry out
slow the rushing memories
affections cold and grey
rain begins a timeless chorus
galleries of disappointment
greet me at the door
12
I have a voice
crying in the broken wilderness
charred remains of ancient cultures
crowd the twisted highway
without reservations
smoke drifts down lazy
words seldom heard anymore
call the forest to attention
north bound slow
south bound speeding
through the cemetery of peace
among shattered tombstones
yesteryear now rests in pieces
buried in the ruins of children
their voice maternal whisper
ears to hear more fears
my cry a pounding rhythm
Copyright © Gerrit Verstraete | Year Posted 2007
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Gerrit Verstraete Poem
hang the superstitious bastard
among the lord of flies deception
cannot land on a burning fire
shallow graves that hold no flattery
losing yet another night of bounty sleep
entertaining restless demons
flights of stairs to an empty upper room
ne stadda dab a toraba cho
within the fortress safe lies lasting hunger
the only place for times of righteousness
outside the rain drums drops of inconvenience
interpretations of a motionless sound
count a royal blood of ransom
ti de mana te dosto carriacho
watch the enemy of words inside
the echoes of a lingering accusation
brave the heart by fear association
I gave a comfort cradle to an infant
a message from the throne of love
keeping time with faith experience
che na shatora ba chamyana
a deafening harmony of stale opinions
the lot is empty no more bargains to be had
friends a well of living water
scatter all the citizens of hell
everyone a chilling mausoleum
in the cemetery of the dead
waiting for the light to blister green
Copyright © Gerrit Verstraete | Year Posted 2008
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Gerrit Verstraete Poem
breathing deep a draught of morning
close the door on night time pain
a sun that rises with more healing
than a week of trading blue chip gain
hold me tighter as you did before
soak my ears in welcome laughter
let me see you virgin youth again
che sta che di de itty me ya
vengeance is a way of grieving
loss of limbs to wage a war too real
ideals the merchants of illusion
I seem to hang around inertia much
not a lot of travel for Cerulean
many are the stops of introspection
resurrection every day of hope
I slide from safety’s chilling harbour
miria is ti ammana te yara
don’t give in to melancholy babies
reach for dreams of springtime wins
I am persuaded by the steady rhythm
of a diesel engine song
soon I’ll have my coffee and a muffin
drawing faces to escape the rain
innia dandara bacha mines ta ro
streaming scheming steaming
let them go to places without water
quench your thirst from Rachel’s river
break the arrows of a passionate regret
better days of understanding lie ahead
Copyright © Gerrit Verstraete | Year Posted 2008
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Gerrit Verstraete Poem
sweet Jesus
consummation
jungles damp
everyone is crying
trying heat
skin that shivers cold
you alone
redemption’s price
the cost of everything
some say no
and stumble
yes
a canopy of grace
face of death
a shadow
that cannot bite
sweet Jesus
light
right
flight
the terror in the night
revelation
white
the touch
of bleached cotton
Copyright © Gerrit Verstraete | Year Posted 2009
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