Faith with himself

The frown
of concentration
on the car guard's brow

as he directs 
the metal herd
into and out of tight spaces –

his total focus
(whether or not there's a coin in his hand)
tells his mettle:

a man who builds,
holds faith with himself,
by working.

– Silke Heiss, 11th December 2019

Water lily

The lily on the water
is a castle –
crystal towers,
amethyst ablaze
with light.

– Silke Heiss, 16th December 2019

Lilies

They'd always bloomed black.
None came up the year you died.
None have budded since.

But – three summers down the line –
a fresh flower surprises
the year's last dawn –
in pink.

– Silke Heiss, 31st December 2019

vulpine

i want to write 
a vulpine poem
              that sneaks  
     into 
the darkest                     crevice 
      without 
being spotted
                        sniffs
                        at 
all the corners of
              delectable flesh
keeping silent and                         sneaky 
as much as its wild bristly hair will allow

i want to write 
a vulpine poem
that        treads           so            soft
that the only              trace that 
will be discerned
is its                   feral aroma 
clinging 
   to 
the 
   shadows

 - Lara Kirsten

In thrall

A terrace of tied-up umbrellas –
like girded nuns they billow
hoods and breasts and habits,
turning wildly:
underneath high palms, 
who lean back:

leaves, like scraggly hair a-flowing,
storeys of starlings blowing
to and away from
ragged stems –

as froth explodes from rocks
by the shore, and air
is filled
with gulls, who hazard all –

stubborn, white-black bodies
in thrall, before the rain starts pelting down.

– Silke Heiss, 19th January 2020

seëvier

ek sit in 'n vliegtuig

en net hier agter my sit 'n jong vrou

en gesels oor die trefkrag van die rymende koeplet

hierlangs my begin 'n swart man te klets oor 

die metafoor waaraan hy timmer en skaaf 

en waarmee hy eendag die wêreld gaan oorneem

voor my sit 'n gryskopman en bespiegel oor

die medisinale gebruike van sonette

en wat die beste manier is om dit in te kry - 

snuif, inspuit, sluk of rook?

oorkant die paadjie sit 'n Indiër man 

en wonder hardop (met sy oë toe) hoe sy ragas 

gaan klink in kombinasie met die resiteer van 'n handvol haiku

die lugwaardin loop verby met haar trollie

en bied aan 'n keuse tussen komplimentêre limerieke en odes

deur die luidsprekers breek die vlieënier se stem 

en in vrye vers besing hy die wondere van vlieg

slaap ek dalk? ek knyp myself aan die dy
want ek kan dit nie glo -
wat 'n digterlike vlug!

die volgende oomblik staan ek vrymoedig op

vokaliseer hardop my mees onlangse gedig
waai koebaai 
en spring uit die naaste nood-uitgang
 - sonder valskerm -

as die poësie so seëvier
dan sal ek verseker vanself ook kan vlieg

 - Lara Kirsten

It taught us vapour

Thick mist on the pass
taught us –

you can't see the road,
but it is there –

you can't see far, so
take it slow, around

the many bends. Truth, too,
is not straightforward,

is soft and secretive,
concealing what will be,

as vapour does,
on earth.

- Silke Heiss, 23rd January 2020