Music? If not,stop it!


An odd lot we all are

All sorts in shapes and sizes

Male and female both

All with different aspirations

Which we know or don't know about

One wonders how other people

See or wonder about

You or me

Us as a group

Is it when we do things nor nothing

Want to be loved

Needed perhaps

Recognised somehow

Is it wanting space

Not in touch with other people?

Oneself perhaps?

More questions than you and I can answer

Nice to be in touch

Is't what's all about?

December 1991


How mad it makes you

Not hitting the little ball

Well or not at all

Strange game to hit a little ball with a wood which is made from steel

And a ball with a mind of its own

Strangely attracted to trees, water and going out of bounds

With un unerring instinct homing in on anything in its path

Maybe a root, stone or bump

Thus sending itself on a course totally adverse to that planned by you and me

Its destination and point of the game ?

To place it in a little hole in the centre of a green bit of grass

Would it not make sense to take this little ball

Gently stroll along and put it in its little hole

Thus avoiding stressing you and the little ball and profitting from the gentle stroll?

June 1999


Quiet expectation


Your coming home

A mental picture

An abstract view

You in the process of moving

ever nearer home

Memories from yesterday

This morning, today

Your voice

The richness of being together

Our way of relating

Being aware of each other

The wholeness of us

Sharing our love

January 1992


Relentless the waves of heat beat down

Bathing me with a blanket of hot sticky sweat

Rivulets form and gather speed running down

Tiredness and lethargy take over as the force in life

A trip in the car, even a visit to the Hyperdome is attractive

Cooling down and slowing down that seems to be our aim

Had a sleep, nap, reluctantly regaining my awareness, of life around

All in all a tiresome day one could say

A storm is brewing they say, but when?

A cooling down would be nice, but not too cold

Being cold is worse that being overheated

It all will pass, aways does

November 1997


A rare commodity nowadays


In tune




Vibrant colors

All integrated into one

All around

The green lawns when wet

The smell of rain

The fish gliding around in their tank

All for no reason

For every one to enjoy

December 1991


Not often have I sat

Absorbing the sounds

Nuances of tones

Allowing those to vibrate within

Recollections from the past

Long time ago

Those cords then struck

Vibrating again

Still new as then


Such a basic thing

Is alive and well

A very fine thing

Is not music King

December 1991


The woes and tribulations of the computer,

The file is lost, dived into its central core, the hard disk, for ever more.

Losing things,

Sometimes not obeying me, or not about certain things.

All that seems in the distant past,

No longer the problem of the shifting line or paragraph

Unwilling to get back into line,

Defying manipulation of it's keys.

Yet problems still lurking under ground, as,

Why should some files open and others not,

How do I discover what is in all the program files ,

Those which either don't open at all,

Or display those funny symbols I cannot understand.

Mr DOS is even more difficult to get to obey to my commands.

Printing from there is an hazardous thing,

Never mind, in the main this computor is a good thing

Useful at that.

October 1997

Hennie van Dyk