Portal for Writers and Poets in South Africa
What do Poets look like?
Please, do tell.
You who seem to know
everything so well.
What do Poets look like?
You, who can’t even convert
a few pictures into words.
And, how can you tell?
You, who don’t even know
how to express
your thoughts and feelings
On paper
Do they have tired eyed
from reading too much?
Or, are their fingers
covered with ink,
from writing until the early
hours of the morning?
Please, tell me.
What do Poets look like?
If you’d just keep quiet-
Our kids would learn to trust
you again,
You’d restore the peace under
our roof,
You’d save our marriage.
If you’d just keep quiet-
You’d solve most of your
problems instead of focussing
on everyone else’s,
You’d do much better at your
job and earn the respect you
think you deserve.
If you’d just keep quiet-
You would have so much more
time on your hands to achieve
all you want to achieve,
You’d control your tongue
and save us a whole lot of
hurt.
If you’d just keep quiet-
You’ make better decisions
and learn from those mistakes
you so often make,
The sun and moon would
smile at you every day of your
life.
If you’d just keep quiet-
You’d be better able to control
your destiny,
You’d break free from your
own bondage,
You’d be able to handle life’s
complexities.
If you’d just keep quiet, and
choose fewer words,
Your life would be a whole lot
easier than this,
You’d stay humble and be
exalted.
By desire,
The King sent forth
this proclamation,
That the Jews may return
to their homeland,
That the priests and the
Tribes of Judah may
rebuild the temple,
That the prophecies of the
prophet may be fulfilled,
by great desire.
on a sunny day
bright and warm
fun games we play
new circles form
our choir sings
the mornings we meet
angels without wings
bad breath, happy feet
I am not your servant.
I am a child of the Most High;
Praying for you day and night.
I am no prisoner.
Nor am I your slave;
What keeps me from being free?
You keep track of my flaws.
Then you betray my trust;
Have you lost your soul?
You complain about my presence.
Yet, you worry about my plans;
Refer to your own venomous tongue.
Don’t wanna go to that place;
Reminded of your rigid face.
Don’t wanna see you anymore;
So don’t come knocking on my door.
How long ago have you thought of me;
Clearly not where I thought I would be.
Can hardly stand on my own feet;
A result of your silent retreat.
I love Cape Town through and through;
Perfect place for me and you.
Smell her history in the air;
See her beauty everywhere.
Not too hard to get around;
Many treasures to be found.
Friendly people that you meet;
Always kind and quick to greet.
She’s almost three decades old;
Believes almost anything she’s told.
She pays no attention to what’s inside her;
But only reflects on what’s denied her.
She always fiddles with her shoes,
When she thinks she has something to lose.
She hates school, but loves education,
And hopes to one day reach her destination.
