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Pocket Guide: Clemson America's Best Inns Hotels A Pretty Author - Miekie: September 2017
that the flute-player hails from Hameln
Die Zor se noodlanding
Hy gaan sy stadige, onverstoorde gang
wetend dit maak almal om hom bang
en uit die vlugtende mense se gedrang,
tree hul versigtig nader, wat hom wil vang
Die net is gemaak van nano-tegnologie
wat aanpas en verander na gelang van wie
in die pad daarvan sou land en nie
bewus is van die karaktertrekke nie.
Hy beur steeds voort al trek dit styf
met elke beweging van sy logge lyf.
Hy wens hy kon die sirenes se gekyf
van sy sensitiewe gehoor verdryf.
Op Zorzibar is alle klank verbied,
omdat ‘n Zor stilte intens geniet,
maar hier op aarde soek hy verniet
na die rustige vrede wat stilte bied.
As hy kon kies, sou hy nooit hier land,
maar 'n onklaar tuig het hom gestrand
met 'n vaartuig wat dreig om te brand,
Hul vrees vir hom is slegs misverstand.
Hy beur steeds voort maar sy krag gee in.
Hy kan slegs hoop sy boodskap maak sin
vir die amptenaar wat op Zorzibar begin
in 'n nuwe pos, wat min ervaring gun.
Sy laaste gedagte voor hulle hom plattrek
is aan sy gesin wat hom toewuif met sy vertrek
om te soek na 'n kuur vir sy seun se gebrek.
Die gedagte aan hom, laat nog een laaste strek.
Die vreemde ding se dood laat die mense juig.
In hulle angs en paniek is hulle vas oortuig
dat hierdie wese uit die brandende vaartuig
het gekom om hulle lewens te bedreig.
Waar sal ons dan vrede vind?
Hoe sal ons kan vrede maak
wat jou aan die hart sal raak?
Vee jou onmin, vee dit weg!
Maak jou twis en rusie reg!
Vee die pad waarop ons stap,
maak dit veilig op te trap.
Bêre besem, bêre hoed.
Bêre al die bose goed
waarmee jy jouself ophou.
Kom dan terug en toon berou.
I baked a cake for a thoughtless lot,
who never pitched, yet ate all they got.
I decorated it with a happy song,
and within seconds the cake was gone,
eaten whole by my non-present family
who chewed and chewed mechanically.
They never looked up and wasn’t aware
of the blank expression of their stare,
as they fixed on the screens in front of them,
their fingers racing to a lonely rhythm.
I had so much to tell and share today,
but the cake was gone, and so were they.
om U met lofsang te versier.
Unravelling fact from fiction was an arduous task but
Om die droom prys te gee
Maak my emosies ongedaan,
sodat ek hom kan laat gaan,
sodat my hart eindelik bedaar
en my kop redelikheid bewaar.
Hoe laat staan 'n mens 'n droom
wat jare lank al prut en stoom,
op die realisertingstyd daarvan,
sonder om te dink dis nie die plan?
Tog is hierdie droom nie my deel,
dis 'n droom wat ek by 'n ander steel.
Ek kan slegs bid dat dit goed sal gaan
en dat hulle mekaar steeds beter verstaan.
Ek bid dat U hulle sal saamsnoer,
hulle liefdesvlam sal voed en voer,
sodat hul elke dag in liefde groei
en hulle saamwees, lente-botsels bloei
Ek staan eenkant langs en kyk
hoe my laaste liefde van my wyk.
Wat is die kans op nog 'n maat
wat so saggies in my hartstaal praat?
Steeds staan ek terug en gee maar bes
alewig een van 'n groter res,
nooit ooit enkel uitgesonder
deur een wat my alleen bewonder.
Waarom kry party dan soveel kanse
en bly ek agter eensaamheid verskanse,
terwyl hulle op en af gallop
kan kies en keur uit 'n liefdes-trop.
Ek wou net een hê, iemand spesiaal.
Is dit ek, of het my God gefaal?
Nee, nooit ooit my God, dit weet ek vas
en besaal myself met die skuldlas.
Ek buig my knie, my kop, my hoof
in immer afhanklike geloof
dat God wat altyd beter weet
ook hierin nie van my vergeet.
Crossing borders to go home
delivered unto myself
too strong the bonds of my flesh
Gebed vir vriendskap
O! Here, praat my my
sodat my lewe rigting kry
Hoe het U my hierheen gelei
as U nie wil dat ek hier bly?
O! Here, hoor my hart
die lewe laat my so verward
Ek pleit nou vir my eie part
spaar ons almal diepe smart
Vriend, vriendin en ek ook nog
ons lewens neem 'n vreemde tog
Dit wat ek soek is vergesog
dog is dit nie maar blote bog.
O! Here, spreek my lewe aan
sodat my hart en kop verstaan
dat wat U wil, is klaar gedaan
Ons is reeds in U wentelbaan.
She left the house wearing nothing but her body art
She would show them
She would prove them wrong
She would not hide in fear, or quiver one more day.
She, who had once been broken
She, who had been discarded
She, who they would not consider equal
She left the house wearing nothing but her body art and she was free
She was free from rape and abuse
She was free from society’s whispers
She was free to make herself heard, albeit in pictures rather than words
She was free, for she no longer fitted into anyone else’s box
She had drawn her own lines, coloured her own pictures
and found her own voice.
She left the house wearing nothing but her body art.
Soveel dae en soveel dinge,
dog stadig kom ek tot my sinne,
besef dat ek en jy nie hoort;
jy hou jou dan nie by jou woord.
Oeps! Dit val in duisend skerwe
Na als, lê my hart nog onverwerwe
Die idee van jou was nice gewees,
maar my emosies is nog ongekneus.
Te veel toegee, te veel waag
het my gemak te veel verlaag.
Jou wegbly het my koud gelaat
Ek is vir jou te fyn bedraad.
Ek soek dus voort en dalk verniet,
maar in my soek is geen verdriet
Uiteindelik sal ek rus kan kry,
is hierdie waagstuk ook verby.
she spent the whole day chasing nothing
but a shadow and a dream
an illusion of things that promised what it could not be
when she finally awoke she realized that the day was gone
that the illusion had vanished
and that she had nothing to show
problem was that day was her whole life
and she was left empty and grey
with nothing but her years of futility
she wept for all the things that could have been
but never were
but most of all she wept for all the things that were
but were not known
and then the day was gone
Statig staan hy onverstoord,
dekades erken dat hy hier hoort
Met wortels diep in die grond geplant,
staan boom en aarde hand aan hand.
Boom van kennis en van lewe
voel jy hoe die aarde bewe?
Staan jou staan en gaan jou gang
onverskrik deur mense-drang.
Menere kom, menere gaan,
een deur die ander ongedaan.
Tog staan jy steeds onaangeraak
deur die dinge wat die aarde kraak.
Boom van lewe van ons tyd,
is jy oor ons dade spyt,
of staan jy daar sonder verwyt
oor die mense se magstryd?
Some time ago, I painted this naive art figure who has lassoed the sun. Afterward, a poem emerged from within me to give words to the painting. Yesterday, as I was travelling back from Botswana, the radio announcer shared the story that inspired Valiant Swart to write the song Sonvanger. Apparantly, Valiant was staying over at the home of people who had lost a child. He asked the grieving mother if there were anything he could do for her. Her reply was that it would be nice if he could return the sun to their lives. The song Sonvanger is the result if this conversation. It grabbed at my heart when I heard this, as unknown to me, someone else had also realized the light-giving and warming power of a child's love. I share the poem and the painting, against the backdrop of this story. I also include a link to the song by Valiant Swart: https://youtu.be/CBWkI7wGa4s
and its gurgles filled the hearts of the new parents with the same warmth
that the sun lavishly spilled onto the earth
Piet, Pieter, Pietste
Met 'n besoek aan vriende eenmaal, was hulle opgewonde om my aan iemand voor te stel. Die man se naam was Piet. Die vriend was Pieter. Met slegs twee mans in die geselskap, waarvan een in oorweging geneem moet word, was dit onvermydelik om vergelykings te tref. Ongelukkig het arme Piet nie 'n kans gestaan in hierdie opset nie. Maar uiteraard was Pieter ook nie 'n oorweging nie. Wat gemaak as mens so 'n situasie beleef? Jy skryf 'n lekker speelse gedig en laat jou verbeelding vrye teuels toe.
vir wie is ek die liefste?
Pieter, Pieter Pappegaai
het koggelend my hart verraai
Piet, Piet, Piet-my-vrou
roep my om met hom te trou
Piet, Piet, Pimpernel
laat staan maar jou askuuste
Piet, Pieter, Pappegaai
jou woorde stuur ons in ons maai
wat soek jy in 'n ander kou?
Die kakelaar het my vertel.
Ons ly nog geen verlieste
ons lewens neem 'n nuwe draai
staan voor my met diep berou
hou maar op om jou te kwel.
wie maak my nou die viesste?
die haan het gans te laat gekraai
Kan ek jou ooit weer vertrou?
Jy’t my gans te veel ontstel.
Who of us have not had to confront cancer yet? Whether the battle was a personal one, or that of loved one, we all had to cross paths with it. My friend was diagnosed with brain cancer and passed out of this life much too soon. The trauma of seeing the effects of the tumor as it spread to different parts of her brain, forced me to write this poem.
(To Jeanette and the multitudes like her who had to ward off the same adversary)
It arrived unannounced and settled in without knocking.
Like an unwelcome guest, who stays too long,
fails to contribute to the household,
and devours everything in sight, it remained.
I watched you dying slowly, in bits and pieces.
First you started walking with a limp,
having lost most function in the right side of your body.
I felt sorry for you, but if I had known then that eventually
you would not be able to sit up straight in a wheelchair,
I would have celebrated your mobility.
It became difficult to visit, because of my guilt;
my guilt over your having to get up to open the door,
my guilt over my health and enjoyment of life,
my sense of inadequacy when it came to making you more comfortable.
You stopped walking,
you stopped emailing,
you stopped phoning,
you stopped talking,
you stopped eating,
I watched you dying,
It broke my heart when I encouraged you to go …
my courage failed where yours prevailed.
You went from hospital,
to home care,
to frail care,
You stopped being.
Grootoog grootmense swyg
Grootoog grootmens staan jy daar
met jou geheim wat jy bewaar,
vas oortuig dat jy die kind beskut
deur nie woord te geen aan dit.
Stilswyend trek jul kake styf,
skreeu die kennis uit jul lyf
van die saak wat jul bang maak,
maar die kinders glad nie traak
Stilswye word 'n monster-ding
wat die kind se lewe indring,
sonder naam en ongenoem,
in stilswye nie verbloem
Grootmens, dom mens, luister dan!
Gee die ding 'n naam en van
Gee hom vorm, ken hom uit
Vertel die kind hoe lyk sy byt.
Kinders vrees die onbekende,
waarheid-omgord dus nou jou lende
sodat jy hul bekend kan stel
aan jou selfopgelegde stilte hel
Kinders kan nog glo en hoop
al is jy reeds daarvan gestroop
Hulle sien nog kans vir môre
in hul onskuld onbedorwe.
Met jou vrees geplek, genaam,
sal ons almal saam kan staan
Nie langer in stilte geïsoleer,
kan ons saam die vrees afweer.
The broken girls of the bookroom
When I was teaching, I used to manage the school library. It was here that I discovered the quiet children, both boys and girls. These kids come to hide in the library during breaks, finding the silence and seclusion here a safe haven. I discovered these kids were often fleeing bullies - either at home, or at school. I would attempt to win their trust and start to use them as monitors in the library. Many of them became hugely successful in later life. This poem is an acknowledgement of what they suffered, an attempt to let them know that I heard them, even if they never attached words to their stories.
Defenceless they stood against the HAPPENING
which threatened to envelop them
and followed them even into this tomb
where they came in search of shelter,
they the Broken Girls of the Book room.
Here they came to escape the HAPPENING
which became so big and monstrous
that they never could risk the outside
in fear its smell might be discovered on them,
The HAPPENING never did quite come,
nor did the HAPPENING ever quite leave.
It simply stayed there in the background,
never present, never absent,
unspoken, yet acknowledged
with them, the Broken Girls of the Book room.
My besluite kom gewoonlik snel
Waarom nie in hierdie spel?
Wat laat my elke keer terugkeer,
om die vrae weer te trotseer?
Waarom al die twyfel en die vrae,
wat is die dinge wat my pla?
Dis jou geloof wat my so kwel.
Kan jy my nie van God vertel?
Is Hy die spilpunt van jou lewenskolk?
Ek wens ek kon jou geloof vertolk.
Dis die saak wat my laat herbedink
want die antwoord kan jou doppie klink.
Voordat ons kuier, sal jy saam met my bid?
Sonder gebed loop ons nie in gelid.
Dan skei ons paadjies nog voor dit begin
Hieroor het ek lankal onwrikbaar besin.
Soveel as wat ek van die idee van jou hou,
so min sien ek kans om met jou te trou,
as jou hart nie ten eerste aan die Vader behoort.
Dit beteken eenvoudig ons is nie eenderse soort.
Man van die grond
Jou gee verby jou eie ek,
is wat my nader aan jou trek
Om verby jou eie dink te leef
is iets waarna ek self ook streef.
Jy het jou waarde-plek bepaal
en tog het jy 'n ander skaal
wanneer jy mense-nood raaksien
en stop om hul in pyn te dien.
Stewig staan jy vasgeanker
jou voete aan die grond geranker
onbeweegbaar in jou kennis
van wie jy is en waar jy tuis is.
I have believed Your words for as long as I can remember
There was not a day on which I did not trust You to know me
Even when I was still small I would my day to You surrender
You promised me a husband
You promised me in due time
You excited me with prophecy
Lord, what is the deterrent?
I took You up on Your word
I did not query You once
Lord, I’ll wait.
To a distant father
To a distant father I shout I scream I hammer on the walls of your heart Let me in I'm cold I'm lonely Touch me Want ...
Die donkie-wals Ek neem jou hand om met jou te dans en ons dans op die ritme van wanbalans Ek ruk my om op die maat van 'n wals ...
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, namel...
Roekelose woorde Brutaal uitmekaar geskeur deur 'n meedoënlose woordesleur staan jy eenkant uitgelewer aan 'n ligsinnige raadge...