(with apologies to fanie olivier) <br /> <br />At five to eleven there is thunder slamming down outside, <br />the winter chill is already cutting through his body. <br /> <br />Now in the folds of the bed he draws the blanket tightly <br />and look somewhat clinical at how it is flashing outside. <br /> <br />From above everything is washed neatly clean, <br />there is darkness covering the blue, <br />while like last night, he does not trust the peace, <br />being alone in his double bed. <br /> <br />He remembers how it had been <br />at the farm near to Pongola, <br />now with stripped grass, overgrazed, used far too much, <br />with shabby pineapples and he is fed-up, <br />has had too much of broken houses and poles, <br />of the joblessness with which the government <br />is trampling over white people. <br />The rain flows while he smells new life, <br />his county is being run into the ground. <br /> <br /> <br />[Reference: “retoer” “return trip” by fanie olivier.]<br /><br />Gert Strydom<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-expelled-farmer-parody/
