1265/1267 3rd St, East Wenatchee, WA.| MLS# 717738 | Kelly Boyle, Premier One Properties, Real Estate Broker, NCW Listings
0.46 acres - MLS# 717738 A Pretty Author - Miekie: 2017
Turn your ear toward my plea
Hier op my eiland sit ek
alleen met net my woorde
en 'n hart wat by my oë uitlek.
Ek stuur my dink in alle oorde,
maar al wat hoor is net 'n dowe,
'n blinde sonder insig kyk ook,
want my siel is van sy stem berowe,
en ek stuur my noodsein op in rook.
Hoor my, hoor my, luister tog
skreeu ek op 'n gesiglose skare
wat vinger-scroll verby my bog
opsoek na 'n ander een se ware.
Hart van my, gaan lê nou stil
en maak jou toe in duistenis.
Op hierdie aarde is jy nul,
is elke dag beslommernis.
Wie wou jou ken, en van jou weet?
Wie kon jy met jou woord bekoor?
Elkeen wat was, het reeds vergeet,
en die wat is, wil niks meer hoor.
Eiland, Eiland, gooi my toe,
bedek my in 'n graf van pyn!
Eiland, Eiland, weet jy hoe
maak mens met 'n woorde-myn
wat steen vir steen oop moes breek
om rou emosies bloot te lê?
Kan ek die myn nou weer versteek
waar niemand dit ooit weer wil hê?
My eiland swyg, stil soos die graf
en ek stamp my voet in woede.
My voet sink in die diepte af,
substansieloos is hierdie roede.
My eiland was 'n vasteland
propvol gestamp van mense.
Een vir een reik hul die hand
deur my selfopgelegde grense.
Die dowes wat nooit dowes was,
maar blindes met 'n visie,
reik my die hand na hulle pas
en deel met my hul missie.
Dit was net ek wat weg wou keer
om van die skares te ontvlug,
maar teen liefde het ek geen verweer
en stadig wentel ek na woorde terug.
The word spoken to be you
I behold the beauty that is you;
a drop of rain caught on the leaf of a geranium.
I touch the velvet of your skin, the gentle hair
covering the strength of your male hood.
I breathe the scent of your body;
the awakening of dawn on a clear spring day.
I listen to the rhythm of your breathing
filling the room with the closeness of you.
Softly my tongue touches your name
as I whisper it to the still night air;
the sound of it a million waterfalls
crystallizing into eternity.
The word spoken to form the substance that is you,
the most precious sound ever to have left God's mouth.
O! kindjie klein aan my geleen,
bewys van God se ryke seën,
hoe het my woorde jou verskeur,
hoe kon ek toelaat wat gebeur?
O! kindjie klein, my hart se punt,
jy moes tog weet jy is bemind,
maar ek hoor hoe ek vloek en skel,
onsigbaar hale jou vertel.
O! kindjie klein, my ewebeeld,
hoe eindig my gesin verdeeld?
As my begeerte liefde was,
waarom is dit nie opgepas?
O! kindjie klein, ek het gefaal,
die klag teen my, deur God verhaal.
For believing in love
for trusting in hope
for having faith in good
I am now officially closed
let no-one enter
let no-one eat of the goodness of my fruit
let them hunger outside
let them tear at each other
let them devour one another
I am through playing this game
two hides for one seek
two rejects for one accept
Dis met die terugstap dat die ding haar tref;
terugstap is nie 'n opsie nie, dis onbekend.
Sy loop op haar eie spore wanneer sy dit besef
en wonder waarom voel haar wese onversend.
Hierdie dorpie het haar gepas soos 'n ou jas
wat mens jaar na jaar dra, aan jou lyf gevorm,
maar vandag voel hy te klein en druk haar vas
en sy loop met die besef, diè pas is nie haar norm.
Hoeveel gewig kan mens in die vreemde optel?
Hoe kleef 'n nuwe plek se dink en doen so taai,
dat jou eie spore nie eens meer jou verhaal vertel?
Hoe kan jou eie skoen se trap jou gister so verraai?
Die jas sit knap; haar dink is wyd, haar kop is oop
en die dorp se geur trek sy muf in haar longe in,
soos 'n vergeelde bekleedsel, van sy fleur gestroop.
Haar lewe het 'n ander plek, 'n ander tyd, en nuwe sin.
There are some authors who can simply sweep you away and transport you to different times, places and the company of familiar strangers. I had just finished reading another Daleen Mathhee book when I wrote this poem.
(To Dalene and all other great authors)
In the aftermath of our encounter
I find my existence to have shifted
to a world that you’ve created
when you offered me a lift along your way.
We were hampered by the awkwardness
of the newly introduced inside the opened door,
I, pass bearer to your destination, entering uncertainly
into a foreign land filled with strange faces
And then the tide carried me away enchanted,
engrossed and unable to disentangle myself
from this life parallel to my own, where I
shift status from immigrant to citizen
And with the last chapter completed, the book lies closed,
‘though I am yet not in the now, but live where you were then ...
You show me your dismay.
I try to get your interest
You rush off to your job
attempt a conversation
You let something interrupt.
I am the child you housed
I want us to be introduced
Your anger is aroused.
I have no doubts about your love
I do not doubt you care
I have no need for earthly things
It is my heart that's bare.
You do not know about my day
You do not even ask
You think the burden of your name
is your whole father-task.
I teach my child to whimper
I teach my child to cry
I teach my child to hate the words
with which I make him die.
I teach my child to hurt with words
I teach my child to disrespect
I teach my child to talk like me
in hateful dialect.