Some days are harder than others. Or that’s how it is for me.
Truly, I wish I were one of those remarkably consistent people. Especially since I work with young people, consistency would have been not just handy, but logical and just. Alas, I don’t possess it.
Continue reading One of those days →
The first version of this poem was written when I was fifteen. Regrettably, it still applies.
Continue reading Traan →
This has nothing to do with politics or blasphemy. The time has come to speak harsh words about the murders of those who produce our food.
Continue reading Our Farmers →
Words cannot describe the infinity of loss.
Continue reading Uurglas →
Sometimes reality is dubious to me.
Hennie Aucamp has a beautiful poem called ‘n Buurman Digteby (a close neighbour). The poem describes the presence of a ghost, presumably the awareness of death by whom we are all followed throughout life.
At times I’ve wondered if that ghost always stays in its place.
Continue reading Real World Relative →
"We couldn't all be cowboys, so some of us are clowns" Counting Crows