Wednesday, July 15, 2015

Cape winter
for Janine and Martin Barr

These short old haiku
in translation encompass
how adrift we are.

***

How the haiku’s words,
so few, and their late winter influence
break my heart!

***

Cape winter evening:
from the stoep the slow knock
of the dog scratching.

***

The house hustles:
I sit in the quiet winter
corner of my mind.

***

Back from the bonsai nursery:
pots, and bits of time and growth,
clutter the winter table-top.

***

The solstice passed: this morning
empty bonsai pots nudge each other
like shy bachelors.

***

The juniper plant waits for spring:
small, low   in a black plastic pot,
still sporting her price tag.

***

Collecting our poetry books
from the arranged restaurant
stanzas sizzling like those spring onions.

***

The printed poetry book
in hand, with pages new
and familiar.

***

Crisp and hopeful this
mid-winter morning:
whistle of the dove’s wings.

***

The winter solstice
but days gone by:
the dove flaps up with a twig.

***

Writing awhile
these Cape winter mornings:
nerve knitting.

***

Bustling in the house,
getting ready: Cape wedding
this midwinter afternoon!

***

All the boys here
catch up talk: outside,
listening from this writing spot.

***

Wedding in the wine-lands:
already these cold dry vines,
pruned back, know the spring.

 - Brian Walter

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

Vroegdood

Die dood
vir vele vriend én vyand
vou my in twee

my graf nog nie gegrawe
maar my kis
geverf

in donker kleure
en stof –

in dié lewe
is die lewe maar dood

en die dood
‘n angel

wat nooit
sterf. 

 - Alvené Appollis-du Plessis