Mid February dreams amongst the winds of change
I am waiting for the season to relinquish its hold
like the frost on the rooftops, the snow at my door
sooner or later will be no more...
I am watching the pine tree swaying in the cold sun
dipping its branches, courtesies of a winter's day
A piano plays softly in the background
as I sit here contented as a well fed cat
Mid February dreams amongst the winds of change
From my rocking chair, lavender fields remembered
sun born kisses with eyelet flashes of white linen
suntanned arms raised before a blue, blue ocean
airborne on a surfing board secured as an eagle
like a beach boy I flew, and who ever knew
She came to me like an August dream and
slipped her tiny hand in mine, we became one
like the summer stars in the sky when they bly
from my rocking chair lavender fields, I remember
Winter enclosures well aged in composure I sit to admire
the view, amazed at how everything secretly, expires.
If gold coins and silver dollars
Could turn hollow and float
On the quivering skin of Torch Lake
July backstroke of jingle
Belly rings nipple rings
This would be it
Drowning Japanese Beetles
Tossed by handfuls to the surface water
From jewelry boxes kept by robbers
What better way to give it back?
Bringing justice to generations
Of those who’ve always wondered
What exactly happened to my keepsakes?
Sky
Lake
I am cut in half at my cold waist
Like a poor boy on a rural road
Who’s come across a tipped over Brinks truck
Coughing in the hot dust
Of swimming nickels and pennies
I look around
Then wade through my newfound riches
My beggar’s palms
Scoop up the reflections
Collect to the dock bits and pieces
Of the struggling metallic creatures
And wisps of cloud sun and wind
A stirring gaudy pile
Grows of second chances
To be picked over by my kids
Who say “Eweee. Yuck. and Beautiful.
Daddy
You are a pirate. Captain Bly!”
Ey
I don’t know why I do these little things
Saving these treasures
As coin by coin takes wing
Flies away
To my kids’ great wonder.
US poet Robert Bly
brought Neruda's verse to the public eye
His himself with poetry 'politique'
of Minnesota made him tick
I wonder how a poet thinks?
Bound by circumstance or random occurrences,
as they rise and fall like changes in weather,
lost in the turmoil of cloud cover and threatening wind storms?
If I were a poet perhaps I would know of it,
and better understand and recognize
the idiosyncrasies of time and space, word and phrase
when feelings and emotions. love and hate rise and fall.
I am neither Shakespeare, Browning, Frost nor Bly
not even Whitman, Plath, Bishop, Yates or Hughes
but surely their thought and imagery portrayed
could tantalize and tweak my interest into some form of expression.
A new generation rises, hopefully, I am one
who often lacks conformity to form and meter, which might be best
for each of us who must write the words most meanigful to us,
cannot help but ring true to who we are within ourselves.
R-ight
O-pus
B-rings
E-ssential
R-egards
T-o
B-irthday
L-ines
Y-early
Topic: Birthday of poet Robert Bly (December 23)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
M-ysterious
A-ttack's
R-espiratory
I-llness
A-voids
F-rontliners
A-s
T-he
I-mportant
M-ask
A-bly
L-ets
Y-ou
N-egate
N-asty
E-pidemic's
L-ink
B-y
A-bating
S-ilent
A-ssault
Topic: Birthday of Maria Fatima Lynnel Basa (April 24)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
S-ickness
A-bly
K-ills
I-ndividual
B-ody
J-ust
A-ttacking
M-ainly
A-nyone's
L-ungs
Topic: Birthday of Poet Sakib Jamal (April 02)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Academic eyes
Bullying lies
Feelings held hostage
Locked unopposed
Academic eyes
Mandatory ‘I’’s
Mirrored reflection
The Emperor’s clothes
Academic eyes
Robert Bly cries
The pond has been drained
Replaced with a swamp
Academic eyes
Truth rendered blind
The facts mired out
—fantasy romps
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2014)
Net soos Noag, David & Abraham
word dissiepels van die ware lam.
Net soos Johannes, Lukas of Filamon
leer die word en vertrou net op Hom.
Leef soos Titus, Markus & Daniël
wys vir almal dat God maak ‘n verskil,
of
wees dan net soos getroue Job,
die beste dienaar van onse God.
As jy is soos die kind van God,
dan hoop ek jy besef –
jy’t ‘n baie groot job
Vertel die mense van onse
PA.
Wees ‘n voorbeeld en hou op
om te kla.
Sing ‘n lied van Salemo
en help die volk om dan te glo.
Vertel hulle almal van Matteus
En openbaar aan hulle God se heilige gees.
Jy weet Paulus het vir God om die aarde geloop, sonder ‘n staf of selfs ‘n stukkie brood.
Só moenie nou word soos die Romeine,
want jy berhoort aan God – Ja jy is syne.
Kry die doop & breek die brood,
bly in Hom & vrees nooit die dood.
Die koningkryk van die Hemel het gekom,
so maak seker dat als wat jy doen is net vir Hom.
Wees opreg soos ‘n duif,
Dan sal jy vir ewig bly in ons Vader se huis.
Jy staan voor my
Die mooiste glimlag
Die reinheid van jou hart
Die skoonheid van jou siel
Die wind waai liggies
Jou hare is in my gesig
En jou wang is teen myne
Mag hierdie oomblik nooit weg gaan nie
Mag jy altyd hier bly
Mag ek jou altyd binne my arms veilig hou
Jou oë staar met liefde
Jou hart praat my taal
Jou lyf is teen myne
Alles het begin met 'n droom
Toe ek jou daar sien staan in die donker
Jy het alleen geloop
Toe was ek daar vir jou
Ek is verlief
My hart is gesteel
Ek is nie wat ek was nie
Jy het my verander met jou glimlag
The game was tight
The score was tied
It was the bottom of the ninth inning with two outs
The bases was loaded.
Up to bat was mad cat Alex Bly
The count was 3 & 2
The pitcher was shaking in her shoes.
As Mad cat was swinging the bat waiting for the pitch,
The pitch The crowed went wild as the ball was headed to center field.
High in the air it was, to first she ran
To second it looked good.
Third was was there for the taken.
oh good home it could be.
Then the ball came flying bye
The crowed went quite
The umpire yelled.
No home run today out by a inch
Then she woke up, And said The game is later Today.
"o-poss-a-moon," she.
o-poss-i-bly, will he ask?
impossible dreams
Kim Rodrigues (c) 2017
GEWETE.
Hoe jy nie in die lug bly hang nie
jou koue greep , harde hale
en tussen die droe takke le jy vir my en glimlag
en daar skiet die hemel oop
oplaas `n warm wind
wat streel streel jou koue asem weg blaas
en hoor nou net die kore van `n oggend lied
bring die lente stuk stuk terug
met eens die verlede lank klaar verby
en sit ek weer in die oggend strale
ek hou jou briesie op `n afstand weg
lag lag fluit die lente blare
skoon is die lug met aand sterre skitter
diep asems en tande kners
stok styf span die rug want
skielik hoor ek jou nog sag sag vir my vluister.
Geskeide Kleuter
Pappa, my pappa – Het jy my mamma lief?
Hoekom bly jy hierso nou?
Vertel my asseblief?
Hoekom het my mamma nou
‘n ander man gekry? Is hy iets van my?
Sal hy haar nou vashou?
Ek wil nie meer by mamma bly –
dis lekker hier by jou
Het jy iemand anders? Dalk ‘n ander vrou?
Watter huis is dan my plek?
Waar pas ek die prentjie in?
Is ek jou kind, is ek? Is ek?
Ek wil jou hê -
Hoe gaan ons mamma sê?
Son
Die son by my het reeds gesak
Die duisternis was dik en koud
‘n Kaartjie maak my bene swak
Vir daardie nuwe oponthoud
Maar die kaartjie het alreeds verval
Toe het dit effens lig geword
Die nag was eintlik baie kort
Vir my het ek geweet, jy sal.
Nou’t die son weer opgekom
Haar lewe is die lig wat blom
Ja die son, sak nooit nie weer
As ek maar kon, sou ek dit keer
Mag ek lewe met die Son
Ja, daarso wou ek ewig bly
Al het ek reën oppad gekry
Ek het bly hoop vir net die Son
Ja – Son, ja!
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