Long Dinge Poems

Suddenly over the sudden years
I have felt an encumbrance; I sense an albatross -
the weight of sundry uncharted days.
Times I chronicle today as if I were a wax cylinder
or a broken spool in a cassette...

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A permanent fixture on the news 
over here on the BBC

Is the Refugee Crisis so much so
it may just as well be given it's own
individual segment 

And the general running theme throughout
is how we aren't...

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Die Lewens gang 

So dwaal ek rond in die lewens gang 
vol van verlange en oral teen di mure 
hang potrete van herineringe. 

Die tyd het geloop sy eie loop 
geloop. Hy het ons mee...

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Swans row the sky
just feet above the copper water.
Gulls twist their necks to watch 
a lone sailor on the prow
of a sludge-decked dredger.

On the slate thatched gambrels
of a lesser known roofs
spotters search for night bombers,
the...

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Ek was gevra om ietsie oor Pa te sê
Maar waar begin ek nou
Wanneer daar eintlik net een ding is wat ek nou wil doen
Om steeds my arms om Pa te vou

Maar nou is Pa weg
Na...

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Her story ends in a storage unit;
she wrote it quickly in-between bottles of Liebfraumilch
- her life so far,
an autobiography hard to imagine
could have been told in any other way.
The editing took many toll-taking years
decades that...

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my anonymity is stalking the streets 
like a preoccupation. mornings, slowly I creep
into august daylight, filling beat boroughs.
passing the time: digging fake burrows: 
motel rabbitrooms don't come with sheets: 
boxes gloomy in the dinge; dead-end...

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Ek het jou lief
Ek het jou lief , nie net vir wat jy is nie ,
 maar vir wat ek word waneer ek by jou is .
ek het jou lief nie net vir die hoogtes...

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Wisdom murmurs amid paucity of things—
seekers contemplative in cross-legged trance.  
Pondering vaguities pensive meditation brings—
to apprehend with nonchalance of glance. 

While to acolytes, such subtleties impinge— 
denied are those of stifled grasp. 
For in...

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Amidst the hues of grassy green
wildflowers peer in scanty folds
between the thistle, of blue-gray,

they drink not of the morning's dew
for it lingers less in drier air,
yet grow within the barren brae.

Scant fuchsia and amethyst shades
adorn...

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Written: March 18, 2025 for contest Sponsored by: Rick Parise

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A tall tree stands quietly, imparting its tales,
dew drops...

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Seeing my dignity FADE into obscurity, 
Am I who i am supposed to be?
Is this all of me?
Watching the CLOCK. Noticing hours
Slowly slowly drip drip

I sit in my corner writing in my journal.
I sit in...

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Fashionable spring swirls her leaves, in a fancy cloak 
Waltzing winter rapidly over the hill, beyond the rise.
April sneers as grass hoppers flick from blade to blade

Have they returned to life?
From their snow coffins?

Luxury and...

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