Poetry, the Romance of Life
Most of the poems on this page are written by me. I have, however, thrown in a couple of others that I love and are written by various other poets.
The Kite
Marc Viljoen
Gliding white, in a tempest you wait.
Suspended flight, in your patient state.
Black shoulders boldly hold the wind and
Sharp eyes pierce the ground, searching.
The prey you have in sight.
A hunter you are
The kite.
Home
Marc Viljoen
Four walls, a ceiling and a floor.
A bathroom, a kitchen and keys to the door.
They say home is where you hang your hat,
Or where the hair sticks to all but the cat.
I say it's where you rest your head,
Dream your dreams
And make your bed.
Home is where you share good times
With friends you've made along the line.
The Surfer's Prayer
Marc Viljoen
Floating on a sea of troubles,
I'm calm.
I see the sun set slowly in the sky
While the waves gently push me.
Too deep to feel the bottom.
Too cold to feel my feet.
What lies beneath,
I cannot tell.
What flies above,
I know too well.
Who knows what dangers I will meet
While drifting on the swell.
I thank the Lord for thickened skin.
I thank Him for a second wind.
I thank Him for the strength to match
And every wave I catch.
Progress
Marc Viljoen
No man can truly change
If men do not forgive and forget.
Change for the better is often
Over-shadowed by mistakes we are born to make.
To ignore another's self-betterment
Is to disregard one's own.
It's Cold Tonight
Marc Viljoen
It's cold tonight and so is the weather.
My thoughts are like a bird's feather,
Flying high over the sand, above the clouds, beyond the land.
Farther than the span of wings.
Higher than the songbird sings.
So my love the sunshine brings,
Till I no longer stand.
Long Weekend
Marc Viljoen
It's winter this weekend and I miss the sun.
He shines his bright smile down,
Making everything warm.
I'm happy when the sun shines.
I'm sad when it doesn't.
It won't be much longer.
Soon this weekend of winter will be over
And the sun will shine again.
I have planted some chillies,
They will need some sun.
They like the sun too.
Come back, sun.
I long to feel the
Warmth of your face
Radiate onto mine.
I want to walk,
Knowing that you are with me,
Shining like the sun.
Because that's what you are.
I Have, Because I Am
Marc Viljoen
I have walked for twelve days straight
With a sprained ankle.
At the time, I carried 18 kg on my back and
I was struck by heat exhaustion and diarrhea.
I have clung to the side of a mountain,
Hoping that a small clump of grass,
Which kept me from falling 400m to my death,
Did not break and thus spell out my demise.
I have crept along a 800m-high precipice,
Wondering if I should carry on to the top and
Risk falling at any moment.
What a wonderful view I saw from the top though.
I have jumped across a crevice, and in doing so,
Saw how close I was from meeting my fate.
I have seen others do likewise
And felt their relief as well.
I have crawled in the dirt many times,
Hoping that I could escape what had befallen me.
I have stood on mountain-tops and
Looked out as far as I could in every direction.
I have looked over three mountain ranges to see the horizon,
But saw only a vague haze.
I have watched clouds gather and
Fall like a thunderous cough onto a dry earth.
I have seen birds build nests.
I have seen plants grow
Between small cracks in the rock.
I have watched ants wake up and
Start a new day of hard work,
On a sunday.
I have heard ants chewing on wheat stalks.
I have seen a spider weave a web with
Skill and intent unrivalled by any human.
I have heard the birds waking at dawn.
I have watched the moon fall into the sea.
Twice.
I have looked up at the stars.
The very same stars that
Explorers before me have used to navigate the seas.
I have navigated through
A mountain shrouded in mist.
I have seen human traits in animals.
I have seen animals in some humans.
I have seen someone hate another.
I have seen another love someone else.
I have nurtured.
I have destroyed.
I have built towers taller than houses.
I have been given a lot.
I have had a lot taken from me.
I have been the center of attention.
I have been shunned.
I have cracked under pressure.
I have prevailed under worse.
I have been tired.
I have spoken to strangers.
I have been robbed.
I have had my self-worth broken down to nothing
And then built up again to be stronger.
I have done the same for others.
I have watched as my mind slowly drifts away,
Only to grab hold of it at the last minute.
I have pushed my mind and body to the limit several times.
I have done evil things, of these i am not proud.
I have people I care for.
I have people who care for me.
I have made friends.
I have been alone.
I have laughed.
I have cried.
I have lived
I have,
Because I am.
Little Cricket
Marc Viljoen
Little cricket, you make the most beautiful sound.
Your music drifts across the night air,
filling everything with a sense of calm.
You are peaceful in your song,
and every note touches the heart of all who hear it.
Why do you hide beneath that rock?
There is so much you can do.
I would love to clear that rock away
and let the whole world hear your song.
I wish I could hear it all the time,
but you must also sleep sometimes.
That song will sound sweeter
when I hear it again.
The Moment
Marc Viljoen
That warm feeling you get
In your chest when
Everything is just right.
Content with the knowledge that
You would not trade that moment
For all the money in the world.
Flames
Marc Viljoen
Flames crackling,
Snapping in the hearth.
Hissing wood,
When wet,
Drips gum.
Red coals.
White ash.
I'm Warm inside.
Fertile Earth
Marc Viljoen
Fertile earth,
Bursting with life,
Wherein thrives so many things.
Plants,
Animals,
Things I have never seen.
All living in balance.
Where do I fit in?
I appreciate,
Depreciate.
Waterfalls
Marc Viljoen
Water falls crashing,
Splashing on rocks
That catch the
Timultuous flow in a pool.
Hanging around,
It swirls slowly to
The other side and then...
Water falls crashing,
Splashing...
Balance
Marc Viljoen
Life is all about balance,
But not staticly balanced,
It must sway from side to side.
You see it in the change from day to night,
The changing seasons,
The shifting tides,
The phases of the moon and mating cycles.
Yin and yang, baby.
This Universe Rocks!!!!
101 Candles
Marc Viljoen
One hunded and one candles,
a citronella lamp,
a pair of old sandles and
nocturnal sounds at camp.
The candle flame flickers and
the gas stove sighs and hisses.
The clocks have stopped.
The TV's dead.
The power's out.
Much more is said.
Amar
Marc Viljoen
Amar é viver.
Vida é agradecer.
All-nighter
Marc Viljoen
The birds are singing and the trains are running.
Busy people start moving to work.
Sitting in traffic or
Drinking their coffee,
They slowly ease into Friday.
Whilst out of the night
The sound of two keyboards
tap tap till the wee hours of dawn...
Ever-glowing Red Flame
Marc Viljoen
Ever-glowing red flame,
Burning on a perfect pyre.
Ever-glowing radiance,
So calm. So full of life.
Oh, how much the nature gives of itself to sustain you.
You radiant flame.
You will burn ever brighter,
You were born to.
And I will be there to feel the warmth
that radiates from your heart.
Time
Marc Viljoen
Walking past several times
With no good reason.
Finishing a job that
Should have been done.
We've seen the
Change of four seasons.
How many years?
That's one.
Conflict
Marc Viljoen
Conflict
Occurs in every situation.
Deal with it swiftly.
Clouds
Marc Viljoen
Clouds drift whispily across
The azzure fermament.
Littered with clumpy,
Grey cotton balls.
Here,
There.
Wind blows.
Rain falls.
Clear.
I'm all wet.
Sunlight
Marc Viljoen
Sunlight flikkers from leaves,
Reflecting shining greens that
Dance in the undergrowth.
Just enough light,
Not too much.
Rain
Marc Viljoen
Rain drips,
tapping on plastic,
snapping elastic,
rain drops.
Water flows,
carrying things,
tarrying rings,
water goes.
Warm in bed,
hearing the weather,
fearing whatever,
enough said.
Rambling (Adj)
The Pocket Oxford Dictionary
rambling adj.
1. wandering.
2. disconnected, incoherent.
3. irregularly arranged.
4. (of a plant) straggling, climbing.
Missing Espresso Machine
Marc Viljoen
Has anyone seen my espresso machine?
It seems to have grown legs and gone missing.
Although this is an extremely neat trick on the
Espresso machine's part, it leaves me without a means of
Getting my caffiene rush.
I just hope that he hasn't taken to the streets.
He's Italian, and doesn't speak English.
You might have noticed that he keeps to himself.