Tag Archives: poetry

Another old poem being typed up POTENTIAL Be still Hold the paintbrush withhold the last stroke Don’t chain beauty With finality’s yolk Don’t freeze in a frame What is lovely unseen Don’t rob this picture Of what may be Each sense can’t be captured Each truth can’t be told Light, water and dreams Are things you can’t hold If spirit …

This poem was written after going to a Lloyd Cole concert in Jo’burg. I first heard the music of Lloyd Cole in the 80’s when living in a commune called ‘Fools Court’.  Memories of that time are happy ones edged with sadness since we drifted apart.  I wish that I could find those old friends.  Sadly one member of our …

Most days slip by with little highs and little lows and then come the moments which we live for, moments of pure beauty.  I opened up my e-mail this afternoon and read an e-mail from a poet named Phomolo Flex Sekamotho, he sent me links to his artist profile and his digital compilation of poetry.  He asked if I would …

Today was a wonderful stimulating day at the POWA women’s writing workshop.  Creative energy is a joy to be part of.  Today we did various exercises which were fun and pushed us beyond mental boundaries.  What struck me most is how quickly people bond in a positive space.  Writing is often a solitary pursuit but it is also a medium …

The POWA (People Opposed to Woman Abuse) Writing Project started out as a once off Women’s writing competition in 2005 to celebrate POWA’s 25th anniversary.   From this beginning the competition evolved to become a multi faceted project drawing high quality submissions.  The project has been a springboard for many writers where they have grown as individuals and in their talent. …

Chocolate box scenes of verdant colour are embraced by all.  We enjoy a visual cacophony, the optical equivalent to a big band cranked to the max.  What about the soul searing notes of a lone bagpipe?  The simplicity of winter reveals the bare bones of life.  Dried stems clutch dormant seeds.  The seed may be greater than the bloom, potential …

He had fire in his fingertips An Eagle on his arm A little boy chained in his eyes The above few lines found saved under notes on my phone.  What or who was I thinking of? Were those lines meant to be pondered later to form a poem? Like memories of a dream in the afternoon those thoughts are all …

I wore your unwashed T shirt Wrapped in your feral scent Invoked you to claim my dreams Respite from parting’s lament In that dreamscape garden You held me once again Reality’s curtain torn Sweet joy, bittersweet pain At dawn I shed your garment Ready to be me The fetters of darkness loosed I answered the call to be free

Now is the winter of my content Youthful passions all but spent curled at the fireside, A satisfied beast Wild spirit tamed ambitions released Youths hunger sated parched thirst quenched But the treasured goal Was that reached? Un-enthralled by fantasies embers midlife vision blurs Focus wanders Essence has shifted from flame to smoke Words forgotten which once clearly spoke Youths …

The book ‘Small dreams of a Scorpion’  by Spike Milligan had an enormous impact on me and inspired me to write poetry, a passion which has stayed with me ever since paging through the book over and over as a teenager.  Recently my husband bought a copy for me which is treasured. Below is my attempted imitation Titled Spring Naked …