Another day has died,
In its forever existence,
And I’m wondering,
Did I see something today?
Did I at least grasp a sense of life?
What have I learned?
This night seems to cloud my thoughts,
And my heart’s sinking,
Into your deep sea of love.
If only this pillow could talk to me,
And free me from the gaze of this brown ceiling!
How to turn off this so called rage
Masquerading as a ghost?
Will I ever know that your eyes
And silhouette were forever lost?
It's with a deep feeling of love that
we decorate our Christmas tree
and mount it in a place of honour
so it brings joy to all who
will come to rest their eyes upon it.
It's a tradition close to our heart
as we bestow charm and beauty on each branch.
Many ornaments have sentimental value
as they've been passed down with great care
through years and generations.
Sparkle and glitter light up the season
with added sprinklings and flicks of magic.
Everyone enjoys how it brings out the child in us
as we reminisce about Christmases past
and feel nostalgic for loved ones we dearly miss.
AP: 2nd place 2025
(For all the girls in Kwa-Zulu-Natal)
I am the Dahlia of Durban, a dramatic, dazzling
detonation of pure, palpable power and passion.
My layers are like the waves of the Indian Ocean:
deep, complex, powerful and utterly unstoppable.
I bring the heat of the Durban sun in my petals,
fiery, furious, fabulous display of sheer force.
I do not bloom; I explode into being, shattering
all previous notions of beauty with force.
I am a living, breathing, blazing masterpiece that makes
fireworks seem quite and grey.
To witness me is to surrender to the overwhelming,
outstanding, over- the- top majesty.
Memories stashed away in crates and chests
Sentimental keepsakes from my voyages and quests
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Sentimental Attachment
There is a mosquito in my room, it’s slow and
Fat, when it comes near, I’ll kill it even if all
Life is equal; the damn thing may carry Dengue
Fever and, anyways, it isn’t possible to have
A meaningful relationship with an insect and feel
Distraught when it drowns in your coffee.
My neighbor has a lamb in his shed, it’s baaing.
All day, misses its mother, the company of others.
Lambs, to jump in the air, on a field, and look.
Cute; now it is being fattened up for slaughter in
In about six months, I’m looking forward to
Be invited for dinner, I have made mint sauce.
Dogs would be difficult to eat, though. There is
Something cannibalistic about it, they have been
Close to us through history, emotionally, they are
A part of us, this is partly true, people in China
Eat dogs, only a few through, the rest are like us.
Give their pet silly names like… Fofino.
What’s hiding in the attic
Nothing but dusty boxes of sentimental relics
~ past I can’t let go
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 3rd place 2025
Ellington is sitting and tinkling the black and white keys
Coltrane standing and blowing like an autumn breeze
Mood__
Nostalgic, misty-eyed, and feelings of tenderness
Her sweet perfume lingers, her velvety voice echoes, and her sweet caress I cherish
Sentimental__
Relishing, missing, and longing for a distant but not forgotten yesterday
Today, I sit alone. Alone in a sentimental mood as my heart asks, "Why did she have to go away?"
There once was a little snail,
That wondered why It didn't have a proper tail,
She asked all those that passed her by
If there might be a rather simple reason why.
None proved to be that kind,
Which put her in an awful bind,
Until one fateful sunny day
She met a hare along the way.
My friend he said, looking awfully smug,
A tail Is something others often tug,
That's why I run faster than near most,
Never resting coast to coast.
You instead are blessed indeed,
As you I know can get good sleep.
With a house over your head,
You're never far from that great bed.
So even when you dont feel well,
Isn’t it better than my hell?
Stunning scenery in surrounding twilight
lists lissomly, touching corners of my mind,
bringing promises of the forthcoming night
with billowing breezes, of the serene kind.
In muffled silence, smitten by its splendor,
the Composer's tempo sets our feelings on fire.
Seductive sounds spool us with erupting ember.
Enticing eyes envelope us in burning desire.
Our visions of future euphoric foreverness
shine in the subtle colors tinging the skies.
Enveloping us with its muted tenderness,
binding us with its lilting lows, intense highs.
When we turn, the sun is gone, just like fine wine.
Its lingering glow highlights us in exquisite eternity.
Your slender, tender fingers entwine with mine.
We softly shift from sentiment into sweet reverie.
A spirited moon skipped and skid
across the silent snowy steppes
as a pale sun sidled and slid.
Her passionate sensuous steps
softly seduced the stars to shine
across the silent snowy steppes.
I beseeched the night to be mine,
singing a sentimental song,
softly seduced the stars to shine.
The Milky Way formed a sarong
surrounding me with deep desire,
singing a sentimental song.
I followed lustily in dire
need of fragrant vanilla grace,
surrounding me with deep desire.
The mystical night chided me,
a spirited moon skipped and skid.
Her radiance had blinded me
as a pale sun sidled and slid.
A sentimental moment
After seeing a movie about an adopted child by a wealthy family
it was pure fantasy well done and in tears of joy
For me, it was a vulnerable moment; I wondered why didn’t
became a father.
I sat dreaming that there was a knock on my door and a person
that looked familiar and said: I’m your child.
Aghast, I would take a step backwards, sit down, overwhelmed
that I, in my old days, should finally be a father.
Then, my sceptical mind kicks in; is this person here?
An extra mouth to fill; if it is a daughter, ok, she can help keep
the flat clean; a son, he will probably drink and crash my car.
Sigh, I better stop watching sentimental movies
Tender mercies mesmerize
Warm sea surf sensuols
rushing still life waves
on soft warm sentient sands,
enclosing us in total traction.
mirrored moments etched in time
never forgotten.
We meld as one in our
Heaven and Earth
Escape.
Although it was written and recorded in 1968,
I think that it was the late 80's when I first heard it.
First, arrested by it; later captured; then embraced.
For more than 30 years, I have loved that song.
It was the way that Sammie sang it; how he danced to it.
I felt Mr. Bojangles's heart and understood his pain.
"I drinks a bit", said he, but managed to 'jump so high'.
Growing up, I knew many a man like Mr. Bojangles.
I remember them, oh so well, and could name them one by one.
But none were closer to my family than Baines, Billy, and Buba.
They were abused and underserved. Their sad lives were never a song.
But when I hear that Bojangles song, I can taste the sweetness of their lives.
They were kind and gentle; worked hard from 6 to 6; too tired to 'jump so high'. Hurting none but themselves, they were skilled, talented, and drank more than a bit. The song takes me back to the 'Bojangles men' I once knew.
They laughed a little, smiled readily, helped others faithfully, drank heavily.
071822PSCtest, One In Five 2. Chosen phrase, #3. Joseph May, Sponsor
*Mr. Bojangles, written and produced by Jerry Jeff Walker
Mr. Bojangles, version by Sammie Davis Jr. 1P
When old and not able, feeling so cold.
Junk, no longer part of the human fold.
Whence did the gold value of you vanish?
And to what dark place shall you be banished?
Of course, this won’t happen to you,
Living in your dreamy, denial zoo!
7-5-2022
~5~
Never finished answering to the dead
Prompt from Have You Prayed? Li-Young Lee
Sit up straight
Get your elbows off the table
Good manners don't cost
Less haste, more speed
What’s the magic word?
Have you tidied your room?
What time do you call this?
Smile!
You whisper in my ear when I'm shopping
You remind me to try harder
You interrupt when I am thoughtless
You correct my grammar
You reprimand impoliteness
You even follow me on a night out
Like a sentimental trinket, I carry your voice
Haunted by memories that chastise
Forever remembering your lessons
Forever remembering you.
24 May 2022
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