Afrikaaps
Die oggend is nat
hul lop op hul gat skool toe
die klokkie het kla gelui
is omdat hulle nie
tuissie gedoen nie
lag hulle uit
Afrikaans Translation
Dit het gereen
die kinders loop stadig skool toe
alhoewel die skool klok gelui het.
Hulle het nie hul huiswerk gedoen nie.
Ons lag vir hulle.
English Translation
It has rained
the morning is wet
school kids are slowly
trampling to school
though the school bell
has rung.
They have not completed
their homework.
We are laughing at them.
[Poet’s Note : The direct translation of the second line in the Afrikaaps version would be : “They are walking on their buttocks to skool.”
The direct translation of the last line in the Afrikaaps version would be :
“Laugh at them” or “make fun of them” or
“laugh until they leave.”
Notice how more colourful, jiving and idiomatic the Afrikaaps version is. Because of its origin in Cape Slavery lingo, Afrikaaps attempts to make light of daily life.This was a slave coping mechanism. ]
_______________
She is a professional revenge seeker
I would not call her a friend
more an acquaintance
Let’s call her Madeline
she will never know it is her
and she is savage in getting even
if anyone does the slightest thing to her
she is ready to take out a hatchet and lop off their head
her family is terrified of her
her neighbors cross the road when they see her coming
she has been known to chop mice into pieces and place them in your yard
if she thinks you have double crossed her in any way
here she comes now; I have to stop typing
I do not want her to suspect I am home.
plaiting my hair
tantamount to braiding three plastic slides
it is thick and unruly
with several minds of its own
determined to lash out in all directions
to prevent this catastrophe
when it gets long enough to ponytail
I put a rubber band around the ends
and use garden shears to lop off the length
sometimes breaking the shears
and talented rainbow fish is on the sax of course
This was pointed out by my cousin the lop-sided horse
Not that we could miss it, his tunes were melodically sound.
he was the best musician in this club underground.
I gaze intently at my half melted 'icy pole' in awe
Realise it has morphed.' And to become
That most transient thing a 'lop-cicle) just my one sided
View readers.!
The term lop-cicle is now a copyrighted term btw
Lol))) ps an urgent update.!! It has entered the final
Phase of its existence,, by becoming a plop-cicle.!
Do not be concerned.' I shall not go into any graphic
Details.!!
My closet is filled with beautiful clothes
Blouses in pinks, oranges, blues
Dresses in turquoises, golds, silvers
Fluffy fake fur coats in black, white and gray
I adore colors, patterns and textures.
Loving paisleys, zigzags, multi-patterned clothes
Not as fond of polka dots or stripes
Too symmetrical
I prefer clothing that looks like it was designed by
Klee, Miro and Dali
I am an artist; it is in my nature to be lop-sided.
Would you rather have your bangs cut too short
Or have someone come by and lop off your head?
For me it would be the latter, for I despise short bangs.
They make me self-conscious, and I wish I was dead.
My best friend and I have nothing in common at first sight
She is a well-put together band box of classy chic
Yet we are always in sync, agreeing as we listen to each other
My pajamas have not been in the wash for days, neither has my hair.
We can sit for hours in silence, neither of us talking
I breathe easier when we are together
Feeling relaxed and warm, saying nothing
Yet understanding we would fight giant spiders for each other
“I would lop off his head,” she says during a TV show.
Laughter bubbles up from my tummy bottom.
He wouldn’t bother me, I tell her. I never bathe.
We cannot stop laughing.
In the year 2099 a group of
college students and there
now freind " the Disgraced"
Professor Morse Twigg. Used
a time machine to travel to the
year 1899 to find the Lost
treasure of Muzo Chivar
which is cemented under
the south eastern side
of the in the fountain. The fountains
name was omitted but the facts
had the Professor to believe that
The actual place was the Fontana Di
Nettuno built in 1888 in italy.
They rehearsed being invisible for 3;00
to use the time to remove the treasure
before it was actually placed
beneath the fountains south eastern side.
"Conte de Fee's " spoken to
Mendes and Messenger would be the code.
And Figa tascabile meant return to ship!
Why is my body lop-sided?
Notice when I put on my socks
Never a problem with my left foot
With my right foot my muscles lock
Why are some right handed
While others more adept with their left?
Ever try writing left handed
A scrawl barely readable at best
Why does the hair on a female's face
Take so much longer to grow?
Imagine if the exact opposite were true
Not very appealing I know
Why do men stand up to pee
While ladies sit happily on the throne?
Wouldn't work the other way round
A mess we couldn't condone
Why do we always put on our pants
With the same leg first every time?
You'd think there'd be a sensible reason
Right now not one comes to mind
Why do we tilt our head the same way
Every time we kiss our lover
Coz if we varied the side each time
Noses would get squished you'd discover
If only we knew all the answers
There'd be no more struggling through life
We'd all be up there floating on cloud nine
Living happily without strife
past knoxville and idaho city there are a pair of adorable nitwits.
townspeople refer to them as kooky oddballs, a couple of twits.
their name is easy to learn. she is backward ditz; he is fritz.
brown eyes are lop-sided, their glances can be the pits.
watch out! cautions their neighbor, they will bore you to bits.
they showed up one day unexpectedly during a neighboring blitz.
I heard they were parisians, but another told me they are brits.
fritz can do a weird almost-hand-stand, and ditz does the splits.
twits do not put on airs; neither abides by the ritz or any glitz.
they eat bland foods like porridge, oatmeal, and plain grits.
calico cats come to them all the time, presenting them with kits.
their fighting is so common, their eyes are swollen to slits.
fritz likes to knit, so their house is full of junk that he knits.
afghans, scarves, hats, potholders, and unusable oven mitts.
ditz does not wash her hair, so it is full of lice, bugs and nits.
also have zits, and they have performed some really weird skits.
all gym op Ill chumps free caw’s paces.
ball brim bop dill thumps see jaw’s maces.
call crim cop grill pumps knee saw’s cases.
nonsensical word play is the aces!
doll dim drop shrill humps plea yaw’s places.
fall flim flop frill rumps tree slaw’s glaces.
hall him hop jill lumps dee flaw’s races.
sing song rhythm leaves graces.
enthrall limb lop bill dumps knee straw's laces
mall mim mop cill grumps lee vaw's faces
paul prim pop hill stumps wee heehaw's praces
melody keeps me jumping glaces
saul stem stop zill mumps jee gnaw’s braces
tall grim plop thrill plumps zee draw’s vasesp
wall whim whop pill frumps kee shaw’s daces
loving this poem and her traces.
And as I grow old, don’t think I am not reminded!
Nor told with joy, “hey, your brain is so “lop-sided?”
How I howl,at their uninformed pride and scorn!
As I see each of them, get older each morn!
I think of the old ones,dead in the streets of Ukrania.
As hungry dogs eat their feet with dog-mania.
Are younger humans any different than they?
Destroying the old, by words they say?
3/8/202
There're rolling pins in heaven
oh, there must surely be
For Grandma was a baker
she often baked for me
Double Chocolate layer cake
Orange and Buttercream
Meringue atop a Lemon pie
to decorate a dream
Her Fruitcake for a holiday
would summon family taste
Especially Aunt Ethel’s
who worried for her waist
And speaking of Aunt Ethel
who’s also up above
Her Cherry Pies and Cup Cakes
left nothing not to love
It was a competition
a “Cake off”, “Bake off” match
If one came out lop-sided
must not have been from “scratch”
There’re rolling pins in heaven
they’re baking up a storm
I think, when I hear thunder
“Just keep my Muffins warm”
A Gruesome tale unlike the norm, that takes upon a creatures form. No tail of lizard no Eye of Newt. All the ingredients are in your suit. No wistful yarns of witches so sweet, in this bloody tale they lop off your feet. Crunching and noshing them to their delight. think this is the end? You know you'r not right.. Everyone knows how those stories end. But the end of this tale will not be your friend. In fact, you've heard this tale while playing with your toys. Never realizing the connection between missing girls and boys. your parents told them on a stormy night, to put you to bed in a state of fright. But i promise that wasn't scary, they pose you no harm. For the dreadful end to this story..is the witch is your mom!
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