My goeie vriend, Johan, verwys altyd so eufemisties na sy gedigte as “rympies”. Nou-ja, ek lag maar altyd, want sy verse is soveel meer as net blote “rympies”. Dit is skrywes wat my so dikwels ver wegvoer en laat verlang… Hierdie is nog ‘n voorbeeld van ‘n gedig oorlopens toe vol van atmosfeer:
Berlin (east) Winter
(2nd hand bookshop in Karl Marx Allee)
alone like many times before
I was
that day was
waiting
near the wall
in Karl-Marx Allee
near
the scab that crawled
through that berlin day
those blistery blue and grey
berlin days that were
dark with death and loneliness
except for you
your body crazed like old porcelain in the cold
your eyes that kept the life in me warm when all around was old
and dead
and cold like last nights fire
you whom I’ll miss for ever
(c) Johan Horn
