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. ]
_______________
In Kyoto's gardens, cherry blossoms fall ??
Like delicate snowflakes, ethereal, beyond all
Sakura's pink, a fleeting sigh, pure delight ??
Beauty born, lost in morning's golden, radiant light
From Tuscany's hills, cypress trees ascend ??
To Santorini's sea, waves whisper, secrets send
Golden light, a moment's ecstasy, heart's refrain ??
Wind whispers truths, echoes of timeless, sweet strain
In Marrakez's medina, gold threads weave fine ??
Weaving stories, whispers, mystic, scented vine
Muezzin's call slows heartbeats, soul's true, inner pace ???
Impermanence reveals life's hidden, precious space
In Rio's samba, hearts beat fast, joyful fire ??
Carnival's moment, fleeting, pure desire
Fleur de rêve blooms, fades, yet leaves a trace ??
In goodbye, new dawn gleams, with promise, love's warm, gentle face
Moments linger, like autumn's last, golden kiss ??
Echoes of what was, whispers of what is
In impermanence, beauty's subtle, secret might ??
A fleeting dream, a memory, a whispered, heartfelt night.
A few notes set a rhythm
The foxtrot beckons
Across the crowded room they smile
Nat's melodic tone frames the dance
Towards each other they move
And then they are one
Bodies locked in a dance embrace
The romantic shades of four-four time
Float across the meadows of their hearts
Effortlessly they glide across the floor
Feather step, reverse turn, natural weave
Flowing movements are but second nature
Others gaze on in wonder
As every elegant step unfolds
One beautiful, musical love story
Music fades, but their light shines brightly
They look, they laugh, they kiss
Then arm-in-arm they dance into the future
Living life to their stardust melody
insignificant
man smaller than insect so
in kind bothersome
~
like a nat falling
to and fro unwavering
bothersome in kind
~
always around buzzing just
in my space in the way on
the way by the way
~
compelling annoyed
so in tune touching my peace
still bothersome so
~
insignificant
man smaller than insect so
in kind bothersome
~
still a nat falling
to and fro unwavering
bothersome in kind
8/30/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2023
The sky is well-lighted with bright stars
The streets are littered with shiny cars
The motorists are playing Xmas carols
The children are excited ‘cause Mr. Claus
Papa Noel is coming in person tonight
To bring toys to boys who did not fight
This year and gifts to girls and gals
Who have been good all year long
Let's sing along, let's sing this song
Peace to the World, Love to the Universe
Like Nat King Cole; there is no need to rehearse.
Copyright © December,2016 Logerie Hébert, All Rights Reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Meeting women online, werecat Nat
with the lovers of felines would chat.
When a cat he became,
he required a sweet dame
who – on seeing him – would not yell SCAT.
May 19, 2022
For Anthony Biaanco's Shapeshifters And Shapeshifting Poetry Contest
Those burnt black wrathful eyes staring,
Truly a sharp pencil
Truly as dark as my soul
Truly marking a scroll
Those burnt black wrathful eyes staring,
Seeing in lies I produced
Seeing in hateful help I created
Seeing in an angry time, dated
Those burnt black wrathful eyes staring,
Looking at screens of absurd god power
Looking at parts of parts of parts of me.
Looking at what will be.
The man they called 'King'
On Chicago's South Side
With a voice smooth as silk
Pearly teeth smiling wide
Hit after hit, from 'Mona Lisa'
To 'Unforgettable'
Not a number one hit among them
~ Whites wary of his ghetto pull
All you have to do is listen to his music
Most importantly, listen...
To that haunting, booming velvet voice of his
His signature song is "Unforgettable"
The man himself, is that, and much more
One of the greatest interpreters of song
That America, and the world over, has ever produced
More than just a great singer
He was a truly gifted pianist as well
The first African-American to host a national TV show
One of the very few African-American entertainers
To be embraced by White America in a very segregated America
That glory came with a price
He had to constantly deal with racism
In practically all facets of his life
And he did it all with class and quiet dignity
Despite being a trailblazer
Despite being one of the most successful musicians
Of his era, he remained a humble man
Until his untimely death on February 15th, 1965
At the young age of 45 from lung cancer
Long gone, much too soon, but he continues to live on
Through his music. The late, great Nat King Cole
If I could, I would bring him back, in a heartbeat
Who Would You Bring Back in A Heartbeat Poetry
Sponsored by: Caren Krutsinger (Winner: 2nd Place)
Date written and posted: 10/05/2018
Personal
Nat King Cole
Inspired
Tears streaming, come to life, from these brown eyes,
eyes that have been as dry as a popcorn fart,
out in the middle of some desert
and as dead as road kill on the Q. E.,
at the height of rush hour traffic.
A heart, dead, for longer than I care to remember.
Death, dyeing are but empty words,
words that describe a process
we will never get to know.
For that brief, all inclusive, elusive, moment,
passing, like yesterday into history, into today,
today into tomorrow, tomorrow into the future.
Words that create an invisible line, a division
that we cannot see, feel, fathom, yet believe exists
as it stops, before change, and then moves on
– as I watch life, before me, pass - in all its glory,
grows, changes, gains, loses, triumphs, destroys, creates.
Reflecting upon my own life, I have to wonder ?,
how empty, meaningless, has it been, and if,
I have given nothing, will leave nothing, and if,
nothing will remain, nothing will be remembered.
B. J. “A ” 2
February 18th 2003
(in Memory of the late, legendary singer, Nat King Cole)
Once a great balladere, was
Nat King Cole
Singing like captivating US,
was his main goal
A tendency, he had to swallow
Us up, whole
Having a Big voice full of Power
and Soul
How it often kept Us in Spirits,
"on a roll"
Why, he could make come from
under- a mole
It's No wonder, He, many hearts,
had stole
an ugly old woman named Nat
wore pants on her head for a hat
with her skirt upside down
she pranced through the town
while we asked of each other "What's THAT?"
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