Author: lvnpoetry

One man with a hundred sheep,
Gave a yawn and fell asleep.
He then woke up one dawn,
To find one sheep has gone.

He left the 99 in the field and sun,
And went off to look for the missing one.
He found it after a very long trek,
And carried it home around his neck.

When he returned to his own ground,
He invited his friends and neighbours around.
So they all came to share his rejoice
And they laughed and sang in a loud voice.

Likewise when a sinner changes his bad ways,
The heavenly beings will jubilate for days!
Celebrations bigger than for those 99 percent
Living rightly and which need not to repent.

Written by Louis van Niekerk on 11 May 2010
LUKE 15:4-7

On a voyage across the Aegean Sea,
Julius Caesar was kidnapped in 75 BC.
Cilician pirates held him prisoner there
In the Dodecanese islet of Pharmacusa’s lair.

He maintained a good attitude of superiority and cheer,
Throughout his captivity, he had no fear.
The pirates demanded twenty talents of gold,
Or so they thought Caesar would be sold.

Caesar insisted he was at least fifty talents worth,
So the pirates raised the ransom, what nerve?
The ransom was payed indeed,
And Julius Caesar was freed.

Caesar then raised a mighty fleet,
The pirates knew they were dead meat.
Caesar caught captain and crew on deck.
Later they were all hung by the neck.

Written by Louis van Niekerk on 12 August 2009
This is a form of epic poetry. Epic poetry is a genre of poetry, and a major form of narrative literature. It recounts, in a continuous narrative, the life and works of a heroic or mythological person or group of persons.

A word of thousands of Zulus on their way,
Made the boere’s wives ready to pray,
The question: to meet them or to wait?
That was Cilliers and Andries’ debate.

464 Boere waited quietly and shiver,
Next to a donga and the Ncome river.
That evening around the laager the mist lay,
But ghostly lamps kept the zulus at bay.

As dawn finally broke on a Sunday,
All of Zululand sat there that day.
10 000 Zulu warriors ready for blood,
Running to fight through the river’s mud!

Andries Pretorius was the boer leader,
The Zulus attacked without a breather.
Assagai and the long throwing spear,
Had the single shot boer Muskets in fear.

Dambuza and Ndlela’s thousands of zulu men,
Made Pretorius feel they’re in the lion’s den.
Zulus shot running through the river’s mud,
Made the river’s water turn to human blood.

The boere prayed and asked the Lord in fear,
To deliver them from the zulu spear.
Vowed to build a church and always remember
To Sabbath the date of 16 December.

Two hours later and 4 waves of spears,
Pretorius’ men let go of their fears.
Chased after the zulus as they scattered.
Truly that day the warriors got battered.

Dead bodies in the field that day was rife,
But 464 of God’s children was alive.
Although three was injured and lying in bed.
More than 3000 Zulus was counted as dead.

Written by Louis van Niekerk on 05 October 2009

The Battle of Blood River took place on 16 December 1838 in South Africa

When the sun rises over the plains.
The brightness brings out the red ground.
The long shadows of the Acacias
Stretch far between the termite mounds.
The bleeding sun over the blue hills,
Wakes the songbirds’ beautiful sounds.
The early morning fresh browsing breeze,
Brings the smell of wild vegetation around.
The rays of sunrise floods the savanna,
And the darkness of night gets drowned.
All of the animal kingdom appreciates,
That a new day has been found.

Written by Louis van Niekerk on 16 May 2010

Summer here is very hot,
So you better get a pool.
And drink everything you’ve got,
Just to keep you cool.

Written by Louis van Niekerk on 12 August 1998

It’s cold and I look up to the moon.
I think to myself whilst standing in the gloom;
Winter is such a dark tomb
It is like a grey, dull room.

But it will be spring pretty soon
And with a sudden colourful boom
All the orchards will be in bloom
And the bumble bees will ‘zoom-zoom’

All you smell is nature’s flowery perfume,
That just broke out of the cocoon.
Nestlings get nurtured every afternoon
And all is protected by the sun’s warm womb.

Until summer starts in June…

Written by Louis van Niekerk on 26 March 2010

Simba was my best cat.
Everyday he laid on my mat.
He was brownish-gold,
We didn’t want him sold.
He was so small…
Not very tall.

Simba grew old and fat,
Everyday still on my mat.
I liked him old and young.
I liked his rough tongue.

Simba was a good cat.
Although he brought rats onto my mat.
He liked to play,
But now he has gone away.

I miss him a lot,
I’m glad we had him,
Rather than not.

Written by Louis van Niekerk on 03 August 2009

Saint Basil Cathedral was built
And there was no building greater.
But was it built out of guilt,
To win over the Creator?

The towers like flames rising to the sky,
With dazzling details in the design,
The heavenly city feels nigh,
Within its walls you feel divine.

How long will these walls survive?
How long will God be praised?
Since fifteen-fifty-five
The folk would have been amazed!

The trinity church, now a show case,
Were people come to see the bricks.
This place is now a disgrace,
Because of the forgotten crucifix!

Saint Basil Cathedral was raised,
A place for God’s satisfaction
And where the Trinity was praised,
But now just the local attraction.

Written by Louis van Niekerk on the 12 July 2011

Roses are red,
The thorns are brown.
If the king is dead.
Steal his crown!

Written by Louis van Niekerk on 04 November 1999