Take not the hand
Away from me
That writes my verse,
That sets me free.
Cloud not my senses
Nor steal my mind,
Take not my eyes
Don’t leave me blind.
Name the price,
I’ll pay the sum,
Just leave me whole
For years to come,
So I can write
My poetry,
Rejoicing in
A mind set free.
Have the bees been playing tricks on me…?
I went to see my apple tree
And what did I find there?
Not my favourite Granny Smith,
But instead a prickly pear.
Now I’ve never heard of this before,
A most unusual situation.
Must be the result of a freak of nature,
An error in cross pollination.
So I rang the Cross Pollination Institute,
To ask them about my pear,
But they were out cross pollinating,
So I got no answers there.
It must be the bees who had got confused,
So I know where I must go,
A bee keeper lived at the end of the lane,
The last cottage in the row.
But the bee keeper couldn’t help me,
Yesterday he’d been badly stung,
And off he’d been whisked to hospital
After the ambulance had been rung.
It was certainly proving quite difficult
To find out about my prickly pear,
I know! I could try the library;
I should find the answer there.
Down the hill and across the bridge,
The library was by the church with a spire
But when I got there, oh what a shock,
The library building was engulfed in fire!
Fire engines parked along the street,
There were firemen and hoses galore;
I was feeling really frustrated now,
Under my breath, I nearly swore.
Then I remembered the interweb,
Google it, come on, I should have known!
But would you believe it, my router was down,
A connection appears to have blown.
So on went the kettle, I needed a cuppa,
To help me try and recuperate;
Finding out about my prickly pear
For the time being, would have to wait.
Then one last idea came into my head,
I could use mobile communication.
A photo taken and shared on line,
I could ask for some information.
So off I went to photograph it,
No way was I going to be beaten,
But when I arrived back at my apple tree,
By the birds, the pear had been eaten!
Under the jacaranda trees
In the soft dappled shade,
On a newly cut lawn,
With a lunch freshly made;
Sipping a cold drink,
Eyes gently closing,
The peace and the quiet,
Awesome and imposing.
Neon purple flowers
Occasionally falling
As the afternoon breeze
Now comes a-calling.
Butterflies float by,
Their painted wings flapping,
The dog missing their dance
As she lies quietly napping.
A drongo sits drinking
At the water fountain;
Watched over and guarded
By our beautiful mountain.
Our cottage might be small,
But it’s big on the giving,
It’s all we’ll ever need
For the life we’re now living.
The slaughter of rhinos in South Africa carries on unabated.
When poachers or traffickers are caught they should get the same treatment,
but no doubt somebody will bang on about their human rights……
The world is obsessed with human rights,
But don’t rhinos have their rights too?
And shouldn’t some people lose their human rights,
By the things that they choose to do?
So tell me have you killed a rhino today,
Have you added to the score?
Have you hacked off its horn with a machete blade,
And are now hiding from the law?
Have you left a rhino to bleed in the dust,
Lying helpless and all alone,
Ensuring it has the most painful of deaths,
Just so its horn you are able to own?
Have you made plenty plenty dollars today,
By killing this magnificent beast?
Have you sold its horn to black marketers,
And on blood money been able to feast?
What will you do when you’ve killed the last one?
Exterminated by your human greed;
So for your human rights why should we give a damn?
I know all the justice you need.
If you’ve been responsible in anyway
For a rhino being brutally slaughtered,
Then in a less “civilised” world we would find you a tree,
Where you could be hung, then drawn, then quartered.
Then you would know just what it was like
To suffer great pain as you die.
So I’ll ask again if you’ve killed a rhino today,
If you have, can you please tell me why?
I am so lucky that I can now smell the jasmine.
It’s the start of my day,
With my dog at my side,
As I walk through the garden
There’s a smile I can’t hide
As I’m wrapped in the smell,
As I pass through my gate,
Of the jasmine’s perfume,
That lies there in wait
To attract me and the bees,
So we can both take our pleasure,
The bees hard at work,
Me, hard at leisure.
The scent heavy in the air,
As night becomes day,
Before the morning breeze
Carries the fragrance away.
And as I pause by the gate,
Close by where the jasmine rest,
Indulging myself
In what nature does best,
I think of earlier times,
Of how my days used to begin,
And why I had no time then
To smell the jasmine.
Berg wind conditions – let’s hope it brings rain!
A fierce berg wind is blowing,
Driving across The Karoo,
The parched, punished ground
Being savaged anew,
As the last drops of moisture
From the withered plants wrung
While the trees forced to bow,
Their heat weary heads hung.
It may be a sign of a weather change,
Brought on a by the wind that blows hot;
Maybe it might bring some much needed rain
My head says probably not;
But my heart still hopes that I am wrong
And the wind will bring relief;
Until then the berg wind continues to howl,
The moisture stealing thief.
And still no sign of the rain that we desperately need…..
Maybe tomorrow the rain will come,
Maybe tomorrow we’ll hear the drops drum
On the tin roofs, so tortured by heat
And so desperate to feel those rain drops beat.
Maybe tomorrow we will feel on our face
Those long cooling drops falling from space,
Soaking the ground as well as our clothes,
Maybe tomorrow, but who really knows.
Maybe tomorrow the farmers can smile,
As the rain comes after such a long while;
Stock they can’t feed, crops wilt and die.
They say rain tomorrow, but is it a lie?
Maybe tomorrow, the forecasters say,
But with our emotions they must never play,
For once they just need to get their facts straight,
As for the rain we all anxiously wait.
Maybe tomorrow we’ll wake up to feel
The cooler weather as the dark clouds steal
Across the blue sky, promising us that rain,
Maybe tomorrow, but are we hoping in vain?
The weather’s heavy today,
Think I’ll stay indoors;
Don’t get on with heavy weather
So I’ll put my day on pause.
Grey and oppressive,
Thick humid air,
Hopefully bringing rain,
But I don’t know from where.
A warm night in prospect
If we don’t get a breeze,
A stoep sitting night
Downing a few long iced teas
And hoping that tomorrow
Freshness returns once more,
Until then this heavy weather
Is such a pain to endure.
A knight in shining armour, how many women dream of finding theirs? But he can come with baggage, in this case it’s his shining armour!
I was reading the stories of the days of King Arthur,
And the woman he loved dearly, the beautiful Martha;
Of his acts of gallantry, a chivalrous armour clad knight,
But of how in the bed chamber things were not going right.
You see it took him so long to remove his armour plating,
That Martha fell asleep, while she was waiting.
So a plan he devised, to keep Martha sweet,
He wouldn’t need armour if he chose to retreat.
If the enemy couldn’t catch him he’d not have to fight,
And he’d be ready for Martha, Oh! what a good knight!
But his planned battle tactics upset the Lord Howard,
Who accused our good king of being a coward.
And he challenged King Arthur to a duel with the lance;
Now with no battle armour, Arthur stood little chance,
So he got out his armour, dusted it down,
Put on breast plate and helmet, after removing his crown,
Arthur met with Lord Howard in a field after dawn,
(To keep this from Martha all were solemnly sworn).
The duel did not last long, only two charges they said,
Before the Lord Howard, in the long grass lay dead.
Removing breast plate and helmet he went back to his Martha;
And no one ever again dared to challenge King Arthur.
The moral of the story; “When your knight you do find,
Make sure he leaves his shining armour behind!”
Sunsets are just so magical….
Clouds at sunset
In a settled sky,
No longer drifting,
Just happy to lie
And melt into the sunset
With subtle changes of hue;
A landscape of delights,
A mesmerising view.
