A Pretty Author - Miekie: June 2017
And from this dryness life sprung.
Wat’s 'n woorde-wewer se waarde
in die massa media-maniakke se kake?
Wat is die wewer se impak op die aarde
en sy invloed op die dag se sake?
Woorde-wewer weef vir my
'n huis van goud om in te bly,
'n voertuig wat emissie-loos rondry
en 'n katel-knaap om te kan vry.
Woorde is slegs waardelose klanke
tot 'n genadelose spreker dit rondslinger
na eergesante in amptelike banke
wat hand omhoog dit weg wil vinger.
'n land waarin ek veilig bly,
'n werk sou ek ook graag wou kry,
en medies dalk, verniet en vry.
Woorde-wewer weef sy inkantasies nuut
en staan weg om die resultate te bewonder.
Tower-woorde waarmee hy hoop bied,
maar lyk die wêreld enigsens gesonder?
Woorde-wewer kry jou ry
as woorde al is wat ons kry.
Jou woorde wek slegs stryery,
ons sou jou liewer wou vermy.
'n Klompie jare gelede het ek 'n gedig oor my ma geskryf. 'n Paar jaar later het ek besluit om hierdie gedig ook in Engels te vertaal. Ek plaas beide weergawes.
Opgetooi in mooi frases en versigtig gekose woorde,
kan ek van jou ook ‘n cliché in ‘n Hallmark kaartjie maak,
maar pretensie sal aan jou onreg doen, want dit is jy nooit.
Die dink in my kop wil hom vasmaak aan soetsappighede
en ek moet my met mening wegskeur van geykte frases wat
net jou skadu kan verklap, terwyl ek opsoek is na jou omvang.
Uiteindelik besluit ek woorde is arm aan jou,
want ek soek in al die tale, maar kry jou nie raakgepraat.
Sprake van jou vind ek in elke taal, jou aroma in elke land,
jou asem op elke kind se gesig, jou siel in elke era se poësie,
jou gees in die oë en die hande en die harte van die wat omgee,
maar steeds kry ek jou nie vasgevat, want jy’s te groot vir my.
Dus wend ek my tot jou skare bewonderaars
en ons gooi ons arms uit, vleg ons vingers in mekaar
en staan sirkel om jou, tevrede met net ‘n bietjie, want jy’s genoeg.
(translated from the Afrikaans om MA te wees)
Dressed up in catch phrases and carefully chosen words,
I could turn you into a cliché in a Hallmark card as well,
but pretence would do you an injustice, for you are not like that.
My thoughts want to hook themselves onto sweet little nothings
and I have to will myself away from stereotypical phrases which would,
whilst I am searching for your scope, merely reflect your silhouette.
At last I conclude that words fall short of you,
because a search through the world’s tongues fail to capture you.
You are mentioned in every language, your aroma wafting through every country,
your breath on the faces of the world’s children, your soul in the poetry of the ages,
your spirit in the eyes, the hands and the hearts of the caregivers,
but still my words fail to grab hold of you, because you are too big for me.
And so I turn myself to the multitudes who adore you
and we stretch our arms out wide and linking hands we encircle you,
satisfied each with our own portion, because to us you are enough.
Thus I linger in life.
Turned into myself
I seek my own-ness, self-ness, me-ness ...
and find a stranger.
Who is this person fleeing human familiarity?
What drives a human heart to shun society
and turn into a spiral within itself?
To come back and back again to the own existence?
The answer lies in solitude.
There alone can find the soul its answer for banning.
Rejected, incompetent, unaccepted.
Faced with the facts as taught by human nature
the soul shies away and seeks its own.
Measuring up it finds pride in itself ...
and faces life, calamity, rejection.
Ek was baie bevoorreg om twee diep gelowige oupas te hê wat albei wonderlike voorbeeld-lewens gelei het. Tog het my oupa aan vaderskant 'n baie diep indruk op my gemaak net voor sy sterwe, sodat ek soms na hom gekyk het en gewonder hoeveel van sy menswees is nog oor, want dit het kompleet gevoel of jy in die teenwoordigheid van God sit. Ek het probeer om hierdie indrukke in 'n gedig vas te vang, maar kon dit net nie effektief regkry nie. Uiteindelik het ek twee gedigte hieroor geskryf. Ek plaas beide.
Die man op die platform 1
Op 1 Desember sou hy 94 gewees het,
maar hy het weggeloop op 9 Oktober ‘93.
Dit was nie ‘n verassing nie;
sy plek was lankal reeds bespreek
en by sy naam was hy weggeroep.
In daardie laaste jaar of meer
kon ek met moeite onderskei
tussen die Roeper en die geroepene –
hulle het so eenders begin lyk.
Hy het nog ‘n wyle hier gebly vir haar,
maar toe sy gaan, het hy vaarwel geroep
op die dag net voor sy sou verjaar.
In ons laaste praat het hy reeds
sy Skepper se gesig aanskou
en Johannes 14 vir my geleer.
Vanaf sy platform tussen hier en daar
het hy God gebring deur sy eksemplaar.
Die man op die platform 2
My Oupa was my Jesus-eksemplaar.
Hy’t geleef op ‘n platform tussen hier en daar.
Hy het nog ‘n wyle hier op aarde gebly vir haar,
maar toe sy gaan, het hy gevolg kort voor sy sou verjaar.
In die laaste jare kon mens met moeite onderskei
waar die grense tussen Roeper en geroepene lei.
In geselskap groot of klein kon hy in God verdwyn
om in stil afhanklikheid God se beeld te skyn.
Johannes veertien het hy dag na dag herhaal,
terwyl kloekend hul luister na die oumens kwaal,
maar toe sy gaan het hy nie gewonder wat sy weet
hy het sy Vader reeds gesien en sou dit nie vergeet
So het hy my verseker in ons laaste keer se praat
by herinnering aan sy lewenslange huweliksmaat.
As the giant enters the room,
sleepiness speeds away
and hides itself in the folds of night's dark hem.
Safely just beyond reach it watches and waits
for morning to unfold itself in pastel hues.
And stays away ... lurking in the shadows.
Satisfied with the effect of its entrance
the giant teases its prey with thoughts and images,
refusing to turn them into dreams.
The mind, awake to every sensory message,
watches the rhythmic tribal dance of the hours
as they turn themselves one into another.
Following the pattern that eternity has laid out before them,
they go round and round in endless circles.
And as the sleeper tosses and turns
it becomes part of their aimless ritual.
Sinking its teeth deep into the flesh of the human,
cramps begin to form in the muscles.
Not yet satisfied with its victory,
it spits its venom into the wide open eyes
causing serious burning sensations.
The giants head suddenly pulls up.
It sniffs the air, sensing Daylight's approach.
Saturated, it rises from the table,
knowing well that its good friend will soon finish what is left of the meal.
Abraham het nie geweet Wie hy ontmoet het
toe God hom in Haran beveel het om te trek nie.
Jakob het nie geweet met Wie hy gestoei het
toe hy in Pniël agtergebly het vir die nag nie.
Moses kon nie die God in die bos onderskei
van die gode wat hy in Egipte leer ken het nie.
In Silo het Samuel gereken dit is Eli se stem,
in Jerusalem wou Tomas die gate in Sy hande voel
oppad na Damaskus wou Saul weet Wie Hy is,
en op die pad na Emmaus het hulle Hom nie herken.
Toe God jou geroep het om in beweging te kom
het jy gewonder Wie se stem jy hoor?
I never considered myself lucky with men
In fact I thought I was a freak
Hiding shyly away in my long hems
the guys must have thought me a geek.
I saw the girls switch on their flirting charms
You were handsome, confident and well-groomed
and I noticed the ripple of strength in your arms.
You walked past them all, headed straight toward me.
Feigning disinterest, I pretended to look away
You sat down and I was afraid you would see
me blushing like a girl gone astray.
Then you spoke, your voice soothing
I immediately felt right at ease
You told me that you had come looting
and will I follow you home if I please.
Vriendskap is soos water;
dun stroompies wat beskroom
byeen kom om dan later
bruisend bymekaar te stroom.
En soos dit vloei oor sand,
klip en hobbelrige aarde
trap dit vore in die land
en leer dit elk van eie waarde.
Dit snel oor obstruksies
en dryf rustig oor dieptes
en wanneer weë vir rukkies
skei deur dood of siektes
vind dit weer opnuut mekaar
sonder soom of onderskeid
en vloei ineen om te verklaar
dié is ‘n plek van veiligheid.
With trust in your words I allowed you to kiss me.
You told me that you've changed.
I believed in the way that you said it could be,
but you have left me here ashamed.
I knew about the drugs and booze
I knew how you got drunk in town.
I trusted your ability to choose
and change your life around.
Your folks' marriage was a disaster
You were the ball that they played
We were gonna spend the ever after
You were just looking to get laid.
You penetrated my existence with your need
With me the willing succumbor to your heed.
I was gonnna make a home and you were gonna stay
Instead you got a fancy car and sped away.
I allowed you in where none had tread
never considering your presence there a threat.
Where once there was trust is now a big gape.
What you've done with my friendship is what I call RAPE.
Ek plaas vandag sommer twee baie kort gediggies wat ek geskryf het toe ek uiters onvergenoeg was in die werk wat ek gedoen het.
Soms is mens net klaar met ‘n ding
Jy weet hy hoort nie meer by jou
Om daar te bly is om lewe te verwring
Dis tyd om daarvan weg te hou
‘n Werk is 'n ding wat ‘n mens mee klaarkry
Jy doen hom tot jy hom opgedoen het
En as jy klaar is moet jy van hom wegry
Voor jy jou teen geluk begin verset
Om te weet dis klaar, is om te soek na nuut
Dis verby wanneer dit verby is, en wanneer dit verby is
Moet jy nie vashou aan gister se onthou en sukses nie
Jy moet die moed skep om nuwe kinkels te ontrafel
En nuwe probleme te trotseer en nuwe geluk te vind
Wees weer jy van nuuts af aan en sing ‘n nuwe lied.
recognising yourself your own plank.
He laughs as he scatters his seed of discord
attempting to sway those of courage.
deceiving the wise
He's the ruin of many a marriage.
"Don't you know you deserve to be happy on earth?"
Make the best of your time here below.
Fellow, believe me
I would not deceive ye
get rid of your worry and woe."
"You need not a wife who bickers and beckons.
Get rid of her quickly
before you get sickly
or yoked with a small baby boy."
"The grass my dear fellow, is green on the far side
I tell you for sure, this I know.
for the husband that knows when to go."
To be swayed by his reason is a matter of treason.
Tread slowly amidst it, by golly!
for nearing the end
you will need to defend
your decisions regarding this folly.
This poem, written many years ago when I was still studying to become a teacher, addresses an issue that is very close to my heart, namely child abuse. I could not then, and still can't, understand or accept that empowered adults will not come to the aid of helpless children when they need it.
Today's poem is a very short one that I wrote many years ago, though it is probably still my all-time favourite as I consider this my life motto.
I shall depart once more on a journey of ecstasy.
I shall travel light for I shall indeed need naught but who I am.
I shall give freely, I shall hold closely and I shall laugh every step of the way,
for I am a woman, wanting and willing to give with my love as I may.
Vandag se blog is 'n lied wat ek jare terug geskryf het. Ek het dit ook getoonset op daardie stadium, maar het nog nooit dit opgeneem nie.
Wanneer die nag sy miskombers
soos melksproei oor ons vou
sal jy onthou – ek’s lief vir jou?
sal jy onthou …
Wanneer die aarde saans gaan slaap
En ons dwaal deur donker ure
Deur ons drome opgeraap
Weggevoer oor hoë mure
Kan ons onthou ...
Maar in die dag se kille grou
En die fel glans van ons gramskap
Word die mure weer gebou
En ons val terug in vyandskap
Wil nie onthou ...
Maar as die nag sy miskombers
In soet herinnerings gehul
By die terugkyk oor ‘n leeftyd
Word die gapings opgevul
En neem ons van ons griewe afskeid
En ons onthou ...
This poem was written as a rap song back in the days when I was in the res at varsity. I was a member of the spiritual care committee of the house and was given the story of Noah to prepare as a Bible Study. As I was also a member of a drama group on campus, I asked a couple of my drama buddies to perform the rap with me, instead of the more mundane reading of the story, followed by questions and answers. I don't think the target audience was quite ready for this, but we all had a great time.