Skeletons Poem by Gert Strydom

Between yellow cranes groaning and bended
I saw people small as ants,
I saw people gather at skeletons of steel and concrete,

lost between ovens that cook glowing,
between hell-hot fires of iron and metal
I saw people struggle in the dusk

and this morning I came
past huge, long pipes that hiss like snakes
between yellow cranes groaning and bended.

Where white smoke are stoked through round chimneys
people were trapped and caged
between hell-hot fires of iron and metal

busy with their work as if dumb,
as if only machines with their humanity missing
I saw people gather at skeletons of steel and concrete,

through walls, doors and roofs that block off
lost in the circles that the city draws,
people were trapped and caged

with crying, screaming, gnashing machines everywhere
without any natural refreshment or relief
between yellow cranes groaning and bended

with tiredness, disconcert, alienation on every feature
they kept building
lost in the circles that the city draws.

Like beings coming from another planet,
ghosts just waiting for a coffin,
I saw people gather at skeletons of steel and concrete,

while some were clinging to black pipes
and children were laughing without concern
they kept building

on terrains with danger signs on the outside
without worrying, with there destiny determined.
Between yellow cranes groaning and bended
I saw people gather at skeletons of steel and concrete,

with their lives tinned, day and night
lost between ovens that cook glowing
and children were laughing without concern,
I saw people struggle in the dusk.

[Reference: Past skeletons of steel and concrete by Gert Strydom.]