COUNTING THE COST

Last night I wept
while watching the news
that told of
arson
child abuse
corruption
global warming
murder
robbery
rape.

Last night I wept
for humanity lost.


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CATALYST

gazing
upon
her face
innocent
in slumber.

recalling
that face
soft with love;
aglow with joy;
livid with anger;
aged with sorrow;
aflame with passion;
contorted with hatred.

realizing
that he
was the catalyst
for all those emotions

a tear
slipped,
unheeded,
from his eye.


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AFRICAN DINNER

bloody-bearded, sleek tawny cat
pads gracefully across the veld;
languidly menacing,
magnificent head with heavy mane
swaying guardedly to and fro;
topaz eyes
aglow with fire and ice as,
lazy and sated,
it collapses beneath the shady doringboom
while mate and cubs move in,
noisily ravenous,
to gnaw and tear the mangled flesh
of the glaze-eyed prey


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CATWALK

Strut
your stuff
flamboyant
preening show bird.
Myriad eyes watch,
unblinking, while you flaunt
beauty with prideful passion.
Iridescent cloak flying high
as you proclaim: “Look! I am peacock!”

Strut your stuff flamboyant preening show bird.


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QUITTER

Inhale.
Exhale. Inhale.
It’s not in my nature
to quit, but I have given up
smoking!


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DADDY’S GIRL

(written for C, aged 14, who was allegedly being sexually abused by her adoptive father in the USA)

Daughter,
stripped stark naked.
First used, then self-abused.
Incest is killing my loving
Daddy.


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COMRADES

Run
comrades.
In spirit
of friendship, run.
Heavy feet; rasping
breaths; do-doef, do-doef, do-
doef of your courageous hearts.
Your only ambition this day:
To finish the ultradistance race.

Run comrades. In spirit of friendship, run.


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APHRODISIAC

The silence of midnight was shattered
as a helicopter swooped low
over the roof of the house.
Driving out at daybreak,
he found her. He wept.
She had been raped
of her horn.
She was
dead.

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ALL I ASK...

True friendship is rare.
A black pearl.
Sought by many,
found by few.

Illusory friendship is fragile.
A gossamer web.
Born in an instant,
dies as fast

Send me one true friend.
That is all I ask.
Those who seek it
can have illusion.


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POPPIES

Prisoner of war, was it with shame
that on that cross they carved your name?
The name of one who died in chains
not where the death of battle reigns.

Did they reflect upon your story,
lacking fame, devoid of glory?
Ever stopping to reason why
your life escaped you with a sigh?

Your dignity, a fragile flower,
crushed by those who had the power.
Icy winter winds that froze
flesh and blood beneath worn clothes.

Meagre rations, thin as rakes,
getting weaker, got the shakes.
Eating bread from shit-filled tanks,
yet to God you still gave thanks.

Escape became your only goal,
to rescue body, rescue soul.
Halleluja! Goal achieved --
Enemy bullet; soul reprieved.

Prisoner of war, was it with shame
that on that cross they carved your name?
The name of one who died in chains,
not where the death of battle reigns?

NO! You are praised with those who died
where canons roared and grown men cried.
Red the flowers that honour you,
a prisoner, but a hero too.


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COLD COMFORT

Hopeless
little bodies
huddle under cardboard
seeking warmth they will never find.
Street kids.


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CHATTERBOX

talk, talk,
talk, talk, talk, talk …
what does one have to do -
short of murder - to get you to
shut up?


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RHYTHM

When the rhythm is just right
do not falter at all
allow your bodies to take flight
to rise, then soar, then fall
‘midst -
gasping
groaning
grinding
panting
pleading
praying,

begging God for more.


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WHERE HAVE YOU GONE?

Your face is quiet as you stare, steadily, at the ceiling.
Where have you gone?
Where are you now?

Silently I beg you:
Smile at me again.
Warm my heart with your love.
Embrace me as you always did.
Reach out and touch my hand.
Let your fingers trail secret messages
across my soft palm.
Touch your lips to my mouth.
No?
Then I will touch mine to yours.

Your lips are cool, and still, beneath my gentle kiss.
I pull back and look upon your face again,
see my tears rolling down your pale cheek
as you still stare, steadily, at the ceiling.

Gently I reach out and shutter your eyes
as another of my tears rolls, unhindered,
down your cheek.

You disappeared while I was sleeping.
An empty shell is all that remains.
Where have you gone?



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DESTITUTE

somewhere
beyond my door
homeless people wander,
their weary footsteps taking them
nowhere

ZIMBABWE'S RUIN

Africa’s bread basket is barren.
Despoiled by politics and war,
Zimbabwe bleeds profusely
as the geriatric,
Mugabe, retains
stolen power.
Cooked voting
not quite
food.


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FACE OF GOD

Worship
Him as you choose
never forgetting that
it's love, not hate, that will reveal
God's face.


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ERASED

laugh lines
upon your face
told of a joyful life
‘til you negated it with a
scalpel


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THE BLEEDING MOON

The moon rises gently, on invisible wings,
spreading golden beauty across the sky.
I’m struck by my insignificance in life
knowing that, unlike the moon, I can die.

With the ceaseless repetition of the universe
the day ends and the moon rises yet again.
Whilst I, made of fragile flesh and blood,
will one day cease to be - not merely wane.

Oh wish that I could be eternal like the moon
and shed a warm and loving glow on one and all.
Oh wish that I could help this broken world
and save it from its last and final fall.

Some nights the moon rises, warm as fresh blood,
symbolic of the fearful hearts of all mothers
whose children are destined, from the moment of birth
to die in some war — slain by their brothers.

When man finally succeeds in his self-destruction;
when he eliminates all life from shore to shore;
when he destroys the world in a nuclear inferno
then the bleeding moon will rise no more.

We need not fear for our childrens’ children-
for them there will be no pain nor death nor war-
for man is so intent on achieving oblivion
that soon the bleeding moon will rise no more.


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