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


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Untying the knots
Hale Tsehlana - 2011-04-26
Untying the knots I write to untie the knots that lump my throat turning into splitting headaches when I could simply say fuck off but I can’t because I am an African woman and my mouth must not be foul. I write to wipe the tears as pages of pain scroll from my thumbs smudging my mascara. I write myself into time. I write that they may know I became even stronger, when my heart was broken by culture, church, and civilization. I write to share with you the quiet revolution raging...

Before poetry was hip
Khanyisile Magubane - 2011-04-26
Before poetry was hip we were not gracing stages, we were going through stages scribbling on pages trying to understand these words that haunted our minds. Before poetry was hip, sometimes, sometimes we were too scared to tell people we were poets, we did not trust in these words. Before poetry was hip we were told to focus on science and accounting, because words don’t put food on the table. Oh, but they do give peace of mind! Before poetry was hip we were an underground people exchanging...

The owl and the swan
Ingrid de Kok - 2011-04-07
The owl and the swan For AK and JS A spotted eagle owl swooped on to his Cape Town roof like the vengeance of the Lord, sat there silently for hours the night before he left to see her, while in Berlin the next morning when she rose to prepare herself she heard a great apocalyptic sound and from her window saw a swan lever itself off the lake and into the sky. And he said to himself - this yellow-eyed owl on my house is an omen of menace, means failure,...

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition
Amy von Buddenbrock - 2011-04-06

Heidi Henning - 2011-04-05

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition: Mother Earth
Riaan le Roux - 2011-04-05

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition: Weep
Hanneke Strumpher - 2011-04-05

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition: Undistinguished distinction
Philip Nel - 2011-04-05

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition: Global warming
Kudzanayi Nzombe - 2011-03-30

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition: Cloud of fear
Karin Dick - 2011-03-30

Water folk
Carina Stander - 2011-03-29
Water folk Nkulunkulu, Your beautiful earth is dying off quietly. The grasses are silent, the game are trekking away, the snake forgets its skin in the veld. Drought hates children, eats them alive; the men are watching us women with goat-eyes as we cook up tree bark for soup or carry calabashes sighing for beastings. (The baby not making itself heard will fade away in the monkey fur on his mother’s back.) By day red ant arrives and mosquito at night. Over there at the waterhole...

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition
Richard Baker - 2011-03-29

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition: Almost
Brendan Ward - 2011-03-29

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition
Sharon Richner - 2011-03-29

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition
Sharon Richner - 2011-03-29

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition: Leaping
Lily Forrester - 2011-03-29

Fear bedfellow
Dane Matthews - 2011-03-23

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition
Johannette Loubser - 2011-03-23

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition
Gillian Armstrong - 2011-03-23

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition: hawking
Celesté Fritze - 2011-03-23

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition
Michelle Hennessey - 2011-03-23

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition
Margie Richter - 2011-03-23

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition: It's never too late
Bill Skinner - 2011-03-17

Leopard’s Leap 60-woorde-kompetisie: Bewaar ons erfenis
Trudie Jordaan - 2011-03-10

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition: I have a place in Africa
Marisa Nortje - 2011-03-10

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition: Diamonds
Michelle Gross - 2011-03-03

Kompetisie: Minotaur I
Esther van der Vyver - 2011-03-01

Kompetisie: Minotaur II
Esther van der Vyver - 2011-03-01

Lima (Translation)
Carina Stander - 2011-02-24
Lima Peru try to forget caution the city to tread lightly because I don’t want to see the child on the sidewalk face veiled behind garúa of foul air try to forget the shivering child smells alpaca ponchos and woollen caps by Mercado del Indios let the city go up in flames because I do not want to see her like this the child stands holding sad playing-balls in a city of madness where promptly at peak time she cart-wheels along the dotted line the coins like shiny tears...

Why you should never love a poet is because
Richard Higgs - 2011-01-26
Why you should never love a poet is because Why you should never love a poet is because It all sounds very romantic and mysterious and exciting, but A poet is self-serving, self-obsessed, self-absorbed; A poet is emotionally expedient, dwarfed and illiterate. A poet is a knot of self-loathing, a twisted heap of hate, A wreckage of lost loves; A poet will love you back with love that’s passionate, obsessive, for three hours, three days. Three months at the outside. That’s how Frivolous,...

M Labuschagne - 2010-11-03
Whore her eyes were reckless her breasts were careless she breathed the attention of my fingertips and guided me to the gasps of her sweet wounds : love me, love me not, love me forgot the money ...

24 notes
Anton Krueger - 2010-10-19
nine notes on lisbon six notes on barcelona six notes on madrid nine notes on lisbon1 1. folks folks from the smaller countries – lithuania, portugal, mayotte – have this slightly deferential slowness so attractive: they know they’re no world power ... 2. love letters fernando pessoa courted her with ten years of words, but finally, indignant, she tells him he’s a personne ... (in portuguese pessoa is a person, but in french it’s nobody ...) he...

Angifi Dladla - 2010-10-13
Entities Last night I hovered over the mortals. One was soft snores, the other a pharaoh in stiffness. I wasted no time. Up through the ceiling I defied gravity. For weeks I had prepared for this upflight! Somewhere in another realm two creatures stood in my way. Call them creatures, those monsterlets. Each carried plate-like lips: king-size round trays stuck to each, cumbersome to those bodies. Like frilled lizards the creatures stormed at me. Lips burst open, displaying a furnace with flaming...

When the Priest Preaches
Angifi Dladla - 2010-10-13
When the Priest Preaches When the priest preaches hell, he always revives that holiday our school visited the abattoir. Little boys in short pants, little girls in long dresses – all with pens and notebooks. Teachers at the sides, senior teachers at the back; headmaster leading to the place of slaughter. Between the stench of blood and praises of knives, cries of animals unsettle our virgin heartbeats. In corridors of steel, men goad, shove forward dementedly – live carcasses...

notes on jade mccutcheon’s lecture
Anton Krueger - 2010-10-07
notes on jade mccutcheon’s lecturejade mccutcheon seems frail, as though she’s growing more ephemeral, as if she’s letting her self go ... jade mccutcheon says selves can’t be separated the idea of my self and your self is false, because there is only one self ... she says peter brook wants connections between audience & actors – a single vibration, the performance of self beyond the material: we are all the same here in this room. jade mccutcheon says...

schreckliche schnheit
Anton Krueger - 2010-10-07

red-winged starlings
Toast Coetzer - 2010-09-28

M Labuschagne - 2010-04-06

M Labuschagne - 2010-04-06

Amor Fati
M Labuschagne - 2010-04-06

M Labuschagne - 2010-04-06

why i don’t read your writing
Grace Kim - 2010-03-02
so manyof your wordstrail melike a squiggle of ducklingsfollowing the Mother Goose and here they appear, one by one as I replace the book I skimmed with fishnet eyes– hoping to catch some guppies of inspiration before continuing home to the siren white sheet on my desk obedient to the No Animals sign, they’ve queued outside the bookstore in a fowl attempt at an ordered row one, two, three, four one preening its baby feathers another tucking its head into a doze and two bills...

The new book smell of old world stories
Grace Kim - 2010-03-02
there’s a smell of promise that freshly printed books hold, a seduction laced through the pages like perfume hidden in the shadow of a delicate collarbone, promising : no one has loved me yet but you may i crave this wandering through bookstores to find a latest release, or a glamour magazine that crackles with stiffness as it opens, releasing the fragrance of words still untainted by profane fingers (sometimes, i sniff along the spine like a labrador inspecting a not-yet-friend)...

Give them rubber!
Lucas Ledwaba - 2010-03-02
The big man came to my township the other day He arrived in an impressive convoy of sleek shiny machines Swashbuckling big men with big guns around him In the broiling sun he waved and smiled at the people Took a sip from his bottled water as his entourage Passed a snaking queue at the communal tap Houses! Jobs! Water! That’s all we ask for, the people pleaded Zoom in on the ballot paper he told them There you will see my face next to the flag of the movement And with your cross I...

the improbable poem hangs its head in defeat
Karlien van der Schyff - 2010-02-10

translating the untranslatable
Karlien van der Schyff - 2010-02-10

Christ re-entering Cape Town
Gérard Rudolf - 2010-02-10
He was taller than I imagined. ● He looked fit and lean, holding Winnie’s hand, waving at the crowd with the other. ● New suit. Crisp shirt. Tie. ● A hot day. ● Sunday. Blistering. ● A no-man’s land wedged between past and future. ● He looked like everybody’s grandfather, didn’t he? ● We watched on TV as his motorcade snaked towards the city. ● People lined the highway all the way from Paarl into town. ● They cheered and laughed...

Abigail George - 2009-12-18

Untitled (a poem by a nine-year-old)
Simon Verster Du Toit-Kombuis - 2009-12-04

When Dionysus Cries
Phemela Mmotlane - 2009-12-03
I am the sight of the god, That no man has heard or seen, But yet sigh to have known and loved When I charm with my affection deep. I am the love of the god that not only lasts for eternity, But makes the moment a beast’s feast! Mother of all holidays! Let those who begin life with misery end it with wingding; For life is not yet a string of hollow days, If that is what men wish it were. Let those who dance my rite Also dance with satyrs and chant with maenads; Let them also soar to...

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