Best Minder Poems
'k kyk neer rivier
wat kronk'lend paaie baan
in dalle vloer
afgemat en steeds geboè
poele plas en blitsend 'kaats
drenkend dans palmiete gras
soos manne kras in kroee
dalk net dromend was
my refleksie in jou oè
Iris geruit as wimpers sluit
was binne-in my hart getoor
en bloedriviere in ons are bruis
vuurspuwend ons in lawa doop
die magma braak in kers se was
dog rooiend en bloedend soos ons passie was
eiland swart en eenkant ek
omring atol n trane oseaan
wat reent verkoeld tektonies bars
in woorde was so onbedoeld
was dit gans so ongehoord
Helaas!! KEER DIT VOOR!
..en eggo steeds nog minder so
The Jackal's line of demarcation ye souls' furlough for interim...
Today, cockcrows perturb in a gala thrice for thee quiescent stay,
God's Park of Ephemera, sashays the daggled the minder harks,
a chest not in to rest, of dais edicts, cudgels so contagious;
haughty wheels peddle rashly between two havocked hearts,
foisting wintry fobs of progeny pleating to let pigeons exeunt,
if bedlam trotting by pothers ye, the cob, yet calmly sings,
"Fare-thee-well, Oh snowflake in dwindle, hallow me next spring,
via crepuscules, cleaved like vacant aulas crescendo conveyance,
wholly abutting city lights, this chimney calling cannot sight!"
Jolly pedestrians twinge at our capitol! Touring a mindful chance,
Ample of verve, knowing mortuary amblers must get their fight!
"Fountains, thawing ye? Janitor, what does the blind really see?"
tryst squelch time, squirm squander squalors n' ante antiquated feet,
Jocund or beh£s belief! Ye! Behind bellicose belletrists by beggars!
When baubles full-fledged, hast consummated thee to hobnob no more,
jongleur sloshed anchors on mimes bare laid laic stoolie, loupe aims,
Headmost, request lasting breaths above broadcasting fortune n' fame,
Then fated fires the Sniper jostles from home to goad n' prod,
Ye kindred stanchion and I, skimmed, the sunset even with me...
Five foot nothing,
Round as a rubber ball and just as bouncy
Known to all and sundry as Nanny “Ding Dong” Bell
Thought the Ding Dong hilarious, recognized a term of affection.
Midwife, child minder, mother confessor
Stalwart in church, cleaner on weekdays, organ player on Sundays
Lender of single shillings when meters ran out
Rescuer of stray dogs, cats, and hungry children
Excellent cook and loving grandmother
A friend to all with no distinctions.
When she died a light was extinguished in our village.
September 29th 2011
Karnnifa Leaf And Beyond
Karnnifa Leaf lies wrongler to the westermorn of Liquida Barga
Cool brushing blues, calmingly decending corner wedgefords
In delinquinada rolling ragers fire lavala redlings, there a ring begun so hot
Jellying through mystification morphus above the blue
Just-toola eastly of roada low and up from there-abundancies creelowing
Wayla is the daughter quested with amblins and shards vestitures
Found them cutterlin and bleedingly profounder on irony ware there
Wilds on the Barga tramplina, wildest sojournaling and purelificing
When nilda drack and drungeon came upon the groupulence
So many then, Lurchin, far beyonda Karnifa Leaf, lefting red and again
No pestilencers remained wonderlate or crackling crack in waste
Not now or laterlinga dayly dayly on morphus morn
Came Wayla spleedling slashalactic and meandermindering
She takes then the monstrella girla down giagantling higher wire crier spree
Returnabout to Karnnifa Leaf proudoler, prodlinging, no timer grinders we
Popularizationer came awaying with Wayla, and yes!
Rained heavywonder browling soundabouts
And Liquida Barga settlering comfortingly to the lighter sighterscene
Quietler minder, nilda drack, smilling to a crawler, happerstance and crowning
Quarkly firing into skylinger endlings of the Leaf, solar bound
Above Liquida Barga, there Wayla lovingly suspends it
To that end begins
Ek wou nie wees als wat ek kon
wees,
Ek wou nie meer 0800 gedoen het
as ander,
Maar ek moes, om 'n beter
toekoms te he.
Troep maak seker die
vlag op jou linker skouer waai
altyd vorentoe,
Trope grawe daai gat,
Troep skeer jou hare,
Troep, is jy lief vir jou land.
Dit is maklik om n mens te laat
doen wat onmenslik is
As jy hom eers laat vergeet dat hy
mens is.
Afgryse is minder afgryslik
As dit deel is van jou werk
beskrywing.
Toe ek my eerste dooie kind
gesien het,
Het ek my self oorreed dat dit is
waarvoor ek opgelei was.
Toe ek my tiende dooie kind
gesien het,
Het my brein hulle in 'n
kompartement begin stoor.
Toe ek my eerste dooie soldaat
gesien het,
Het ek myself gesê dit sal nooit
ek
wees.
'n Familie man lyk net soos 'n
terroris.
Jihad beteken heilige oorlog,
Maar ek het die verkeerde god
aanbid in daai land.
Hulle oorlog was 'n oorlog teen
my.
Ek het geantwoord met my
geweer,
Nooit vrae gevra nie.
Ek het huis toe gekom met al my
vingers en tone,
Maar 'n gedeelte van my het
agter
gebly.
In die aand maak my brein daai
doods kompartement oop.
Ek was 'n soldaat,
Maar verkoolde lyke maak vir 'n
kak alarm in die oggend,
Lucifer se braai het 'n neiging om
aan jou neus te kleef,
Insomnia doen min om my
senuwees te kalmeer.
Meeste mense droom hul lewe
lank om 'n held te wees,
Ek herleef dit elke nag in my
nagmerries.
A bitter and twisted tale to follow,
everyday the same as tommorw,
same old madness that will follow,
empty dreams and a heart that's hollow.
Ill begin each day the usual way,
look in the mirror and see decay,
a hopeless soul is what they say,
still dressed in the clothes of yesterday.
I sit on my bed with no real plans,
except for liquid, to steady my hands,
frantically search my bedsit floor,
till i find what i'm looking for.
A half empty can of a real strong beer,
lost under the bed for maybe a year,
sit back on the bed with ergency and speed,
can to my lips for the liquid i need.
with every swallow the shakes dissapear,
twenty four hours till again the'll appear,
with ergency for more i head for the door,
checking my pockets to reveal my last score.
Now out on the street i encounter a stranger,
paranoid feelings as if my life were in danger,
stare at the floor to avoid eye contact,
and focus my attention on my beer contract.
as i walk i scan the floor for butts,
so i dont waste money on buying roll ups,
long ones a bonus but short ones a start,
for when i get home ill pull them apart.
arrive at the shop and drool at his stock,
calculating what i can get for my twenty spot,
eight cans of tennents and two bottles of cider,
then proceed to pay the shop minder.
the usual pleasentrys as i pay,
and as i leave he bids a good day,
with the job half done i head back to my slum,
not quite a walk and not quite a run.
arrive back home and slam the door,
just as the sweats begin to pour,
sit back on my bed place beers on the floor,
the liquid profits of my score,
drink the day back into the night,
slowly more getting as high as a kite,
drowning self sorrow and drowning self pain,
to keep myself from going insaine.
now a waste of a life i have to agree,
but i cannot deny that life was me.
the stars were out that night
twinkling their song of love
in your eyes were the brightest
a grace that came from above
two young lovers hands held
a kiss ,when night meets the day
an explosion of light that makes the dawn
words that should be said are on delay
lost in life a theater of what ifs
a caravan of crossroad i pick
lies are not freedom wrapped in gifts
then re-wrapped for the next
wayward boy lonely and bruised
suffering in his own doom
thrown down and used then
washed to make new,
the stains of yesterday are the reminder
given to Christ to launder
wash clean this sinner new
like a baby to the minder
now i have come again
on the tattooed horse stitched,patched
looking for the diamond that was in the rough
a prospectors dream, one that is cut
i have found a lost love
or she has found me
typing words on the mouth of keys
never get to see the beauty of these
one could say it is meant to be
or wonder how it would be sexually
God put a pause on all these thoughts
if its true it can be his will
the stars were out that night
twinkling their song of love
in your eyes were the brightest
a grace that came from above
Skiet mis
In plaas van woorde uit my pen
Vloei trane uit my hart se oog
Sodra ek sien ek het gewen
Besef ek hoe haar blom uitdroog
In minder as net sewe dae
verloor haar hart sy steun. En weer
probeer oortuig dat wat ek vra:
“Vergeet eenvoudig van die seer”
Verwagtend na die nuwe droom
Voor tyd sy skade weer oopvlek
Vloei woorde na my put se stroom
Waar trane uit ‘n boog vertrek
Tref mis alweer – onsekerheid.
Jy skild en pantserlaag jou hart!
Met ystepyl gelowigheid,
oortuigend, mik ek sonder smart
Do you say grace at your meal?
giving thanks to God for your food
recognizing that the Lord provided it
being God who does everything good
God the great creator in the beginning
having made all with His hands
showing all we have is from Him
all the world created in all the lands
Have a think about how food came
everything has a beginning from a seed
that seed grows and grows and grows
all originated by God, all His creed
It's funny how when given a gift
we quite easily can say thank you
but when given no end of gifts
speechless we become, words are few
So let's give our grace always to God
for all we have comes from our provider
be grateful and thankful from our heart
prayerfully looking to your divine minder!
Lieg
Herhaaldelik en gereeld soos net in 7de laan
Was geheimnisse en liegstories die haat wat uit jou gaan.
Ek natuurlik, onderskei, kon binne in my voel
Oortuigend jou nie glo nie, soos water van my rug afspoel.
Vermydelik soos ‘n kindjie wat die rusies net wou keer
Het ek my hart se oe gesluit vir dit wat sou gebeur.
Indien die leun ontbloot sou word – ek jou sou konfronteer
Beskerm jy jou weergawe, al maak dit ander seer.
Die grootste waarheid was dat jy nie meer kon lieg.
Wat ek in jou belê het, het jy vertrap, bespuug!
Toe ek besluit ek kon nie meer, en ek myself onttrek
Ontmasker jy jou broeisel - tesame met jou gek!
In minder as ‘n week of twee het jy my plek gevul
Met meer as een of twee, dis duidelik jy’t gekul.
As jy so vinnig aanbeweeg en my nie eers wou sê;
Wil ek net een ding van jou weet: - Het jy my ooit al lief gehê?
Another revolution 'round the sun:
the plans are laid, the resolutions penned.
This is the year at last to be the one:
lose weight, exercise more, curtail the spend.
Then life, it seems, jumps up, gets in the way:
the unexpected call from a dear friend.
Your planner list can wait another day,
for it was just a minder in the end.
The days then turn to weeks before you know,
and now you’re so far off the beaten path,
the goal you set not very long ago:
completely hopeless, when you do the math.
It catches you off guard, and you’ve begun
another revolution 'round the sun.
—————
for the Orphan Sonnet Poetry Contest
sponsored by Emile Pinet
written on 05/01/2022
There was a lady of name Kathleen,
Who was never quite sure where she had been.
So they found her a minder
Who was a lot kinder
And always kept her happy and clean.
I’m a servant of the universe
My rank is junior minder.
I care for the solar system
As its oiler and winder.
Everything is done
To a very strict rota,
Checking every cog
And cleaning every motor.
The star has its thermostat
Rigidly checked and set
Its fuel delivery schedule
Very rigorously met.
Each planet has its key
Kept on its own ring
So I can check and fix
Each internal spring:
Wind it too tight,
The planet runs fast.
Not tight enough
The wind won’t last.
I once got it wrong
In my apprentice stage,
Wiped out the dinosaurs
And caused an ice age.
You can imagine all the ribbing
At the staff centennial dinner
Apprentice of the moment?
Never was the winner.
I have my own staff now
The systems work just fine.
Guess it should last right
‘Til the end of time.
Lord, when I worry about the bills,
Knowing I don't have money-making skills,
Please be my complete provider,
As well as my ever present minder.
When my life knocks me down,
And all I can do is frown,
Please come and comfort me,
For I will always depend on thee.
When I'm confused about what to do.
When no one has answers except you,
Please make everything crystal clear,
Wiping out any doubt or fear.
I stood in awe as she alighted like a bird upon some branch,
Belisha beacon to the abyss bound clochard.
Bonfire for uncanny scion adrift,
ignited by her
incandescent eyes.
Chanteuse of Arcadia on song and sound.
Halo at the crossroads, spreading out her wings to scupper animus
and bile.
Mystic lodger earthen yet ethereal,
hoisting every limb aloft from Bern to Betelgeuse.
Limelight vernal
queen blessed by open columns, healer on the arc where tangents dwell.
Silver tiptop finger nails a castanet with magic samba grooves.
In ritual or routine this lifeline Flora,
bright zoetic statue,
magnetising symbol for the bod without a bean.
Silken hands that rock the infant cradle,
quelling fractious babies, saboteurs of sandman’s mythic dust.
Moonlight moths that
flit across the glossy pages sculpted in her cheeks.
Backstreet lantern white knight,
echo in a mirror of chatoyant eyes.
Cast iron shadow coat tail,
destiny’s de lux edition bound but never gagged.
Damsel on assignment,
ever present vigil, soothing troubled psyches as they wallow in the waters of Lethe.
Nightingale who weaves an ample flourish,
band aid profile minder of a
cobblestone waif,
otherworldly migrant,
window on polluted quarters
harbouring those abject fallen figures,
bane of ghostly ushers when they prowl.
Heroine’s ascension ,
angel flying over heaven’s ladder,
waiting for that moment when her heart has found a home.