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Best Poems Written by Henk Van Niekerk

Below are the all-time best Henk Van Niekerk poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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How Did We Come To This

When I was a child,
I thought like a child, played like a child,
free of worry and stress, innocently happy.

I dreamt of knights and dragons,
of spaceships and adventure,
my Chi clear and peaceful as the sea.

But now roads are diverging in the woods,
a dire beast drags itself toward Bethlehem.
Shall we continue our every day, dealing useless goods?
Or concern us with countless devils, try battle them?

For the end, my friend, is very, very nigh,
whether by alien extermination or asteroid strike,
or underreported, nefariously political, virally thrown die,
our world, old poets and authors saluted, will not end up as we like.

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When Darkness Falls

it strides forward,
more confident this time than ever
in the many wars that had gone before;

to mine own weary eyes,
it seemed to be a-galloping, prancing even,
to a rhythm that drummed out my final, crescendoing score!

for too long had I my center held,
too tired, too disillusioned had I become
of this thing called light we supposedly bring, carry, and cast,
for and upon a realm, a reality so-called deserved by some;

were we not all of us fooled,
time and again tortured with the motivation of a lie?
for if light be true, necessary, and right - and our only reward this endless, victory-less fight:
then I say, Darkness, march on - take wing even, and fly!

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Crucifixion

so we scavenge, so we scrabble
we sift through detritus of pathetic little histories,
we search, we yearn,
for more, for something worthwhile,
for something good, epithanitic...

but we fail, we succeed only doing
ourselves the harm we so richly deserve in the hereafter,
we stop, we stare,
transfixed, by rage,
by fire bathing our souls,
this hellish dousing, cleanse, rinse-repeat...

and should some poor soul hum this ditty,
then fulfilled my ambition be...
the thorn, the crucify-tree...

and we rant on, seeing no saving
from the powers, the shadow-cloaked habits of wisdom,
assuring, assuaging,
that good, that divine care,
will save our silly souls...

but time, hard experience
has long since taught us truths bathed in the now,
we laugh, we cry,
given over, in total,
to the reality of this life,
and the fire that cleanses, rinse-repeat...

and should another man sing this song,
then laughing, putrid my soul is free...
the thorn, the crucify-tree...

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Waiting

he sits, patiently impatient, calm,
outwardly no racing thoughts or heart on show,
but inward seething keeps the monster warm,
unleash-ready, eager for the rampage-consuming glow.

was this another divinely proverbial carrot held
before this simple man: the gods mirth-born donkey?
or was this ray of hope true and virtuous meld,
not more imagined laughter at expense of countless a plea?

verdict hanging out there, its balance frightful frail,
the now, and the near-now, determining of that fate,
and as winds of chance while away at a mayhap false dawn, weak and pale,
faith alone, Deo volente, keep at bay the monster's hate.

So, now it comes to this:
Eternal rage, or some grateful moments' bliss...

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Thanking All the Gods

Oft a desert stretches out before me,
empty of hope, sustenance, or new vista.
It tortures me: Illusions of being free,
its windy tendrils teasing skin as mine own Callista.

And as my salt-crusted eyes searches the heat-dancing nadir,
my thudding heart grows ever weaker.
Thoughts abound unbidden about the Father,
His will in this, my quest as truth-seeker.

I strive on, each stride a small victory,
each breath I draw a gift from the gods of old.
My stubborn strength and smile born from legends of Thor and Loki,
but my will, my purpose, residing solely in the new Christ's countenance of gold.

As I leave my fate as so many times before,
in His hands still, both shielding me since times of yore.

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A Light In the Black

When ready I was to surrender,
unconditional, and to Death, no less,
then caught my rising head a lighter shade than dark.

An impossible phenomenon,
amongst these always gathering, ever-permeating devils.
The throng of suffocating blackness parted - You who would die too: Hark!

For there in the eternal night, flickered actual light!
Where no light belonged, it nonetheless existed.
Softly at first, then brighter still,
until I cried out, as joyfully my eyelids blistered!

An angel, surely, I first thought it to be,
but no! A mere man but blessed and cursed like me!
Smiling, but fighting the devils, like did I, once,
until no light, or breath in my chest, was left coming free.