Skimming Stones | Sula's Blog | Sula1968 A South African poet, potter and mother

Recently the cover of Time magazine got a whole lot of peoples knickers in a twist.  Why does the image of a mother feeding her child fuel such revulsion,  judgment and fury? I hate to burst any ones bubble but titties are mammary glands. If you read the scientific bumph we fall under the class of mammals, feeding their young is …

There are no early baby photos of me, I guess my Mum did not want to remember what I looked like when I was born and knowing her she would not want me to see them.  I would like to have seen one, it would make for more extreme before and after pics than when I won a makeover at …

Recently I got around to watching ‘Pride and Prejudice’.  What struck me more than the famous Darcy gaze was the romance of the lifestyle.  It left me longing for the days before cell phones & computers.  Make not mistake, I love using them but they have created a social void.  Facebook can never compete with visiting a friend for a …

One big problem with life is that the bad guys don’t carry sabres or dress in black gowns.  There may be heavy breathing but it’s not a dead giveaway that evil lurks behind a mask.  In reality the bad guy’s mask may well be a mop of blonde hair, blue eyes and a cute smile.  Of course the lines between good and …

Yesterday I felt heavy hearted after reading ‘Captain Corelli’s Mandolin’.  The words “What if?” and “Why?” echoing in my mind.  So many years, so much life wasted.  Today my mind has circled around the characters and situations and I now realise that the root of my mental discomfort were the words “After the War”.  These words opened most conversations between …

I’m posting this mainly to do a test blog. Keen to try it out, it seems that I registered 3 years ago and forgot that I had. I wrote this poem a few months after I met my husband. On 5th March we will have been married for 6 years. I am grateful That I didn’t have to wait another …

Filled with a sense of expectation I wrote the following poem the day before the November convention.  The winds of change rustle the bushveld. Pregnant clouds herald a storm. Parched earth thirsts for fresh life. African sun prepares for new dawn Acacia woos the weary To rest in her spring clothed shade The dove sings in soft tones that peace …