Hierdie is die LitNet-argief (2006–2012)
Besoek die aktiewe LitNet-platform by www.litnet.co.za

This is the LitNet archive (2006–2012)
Visit the active LitNet platform at www.litnet.co.za


 
Nuwe skryfwerk | New writing > Poësie | Poetry > English

English


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Forgetting ...
Remi Raji - 2006-07-25
As sure as the deceptive day you're the only cell in my stem the stomata of unending songs, ... Because I crave your lips, and you're not here I want to forget you, haunted by the paradox in the air you're the only thing whose epilepsy I have loved and I have known betrayals not like yours ... Your contradictions have become the theorem of what it is to love and laugh in the faith of gutters and I'm also a paradox, the oxy- moron, may be a metaphor, the painted proverb I’m the fool among...

Surely I love you
Na Ncube - 2006-07-21
as surely as the morning mist as surely as the sweetest dew I love you in your youth as surely as the rising sun as surely as powerful winds I love you in your strength as surely as a bee to honey as strongly as a moth to a flame wayward, foolhardy, I love you as surely as the scorching day as surely as the heat of summer I love you in your passion as surely as the turning tide as surely as the now calm sea l love you in your maturity as surely as dark stormy clouds show clearly the beauty...

The Tenant
Na Ncube - 2006-07-21


Damaged at birth
Na Ncube - 2006-07-21


Reaching out
Na Ncube - 2006-07-21
I wondered what he thought as he sat there on the dirt hands reaching out in that worldwide gesture of beggars a few coins rattled in his tin not enough for a loaf of bread he sat there, unmoving quite like a statue and his eyes looked glazed nothing could be read from them not pain not hunger not even resignation and I wondered again as everyone passed without so much as a glance what precisely went through his mind as he sat there hands outstretched I dropped a coin into those hands and still neither...

Black man
Na Ncube - 2006-07-21


In Luther's chair
Ian Kruger - 2006-07-21
He finds himself in a room in a chair Between his fingers is a cigarette poised over a jar lid on the armrest He is exhausted, tumescent with the cigarette’s bruising rush He cannot remember how he got here His history and that aching need to be something – all is in anxious remission Outside, beyond the terylene strung across the window, is another world, soaked and darkening Glimmering streams mark out the roads by which the myriads make their obdurate ways home And the city,...

Off beat
Joanne Hart - 2006-07-21


My Father's teeth
Caroline Esterhuizen - 2006-07-21
My father had beautiful teeth - quite a magnificent set really which complemented his gorgeous features. Then when he was 28 years old he gave a lift to a hitchhiker. Under the Tollgate Bridge, that man beat my father's face and head so badly to purple-engorged pulp that he lost all of those lovely teeth. Now nearing 40, I am wondering why some obscure dentist chose to remove a pair of my molars in my juvenile years – for anticipated cosmetic reasons ... I might have had a beautiful set of...

Shack fire
Rosemund J Handler - 2006-07-14


Art
Rosemund J Handler - 2006-07-14



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