It seems to achieve the simplicity I desperately crave is an impossibly complicated task.
Simon of Cyrene was told to carry Jesus’ cross
he’d set out on his own but violence forced a different coin toss
the heavy burden of fate
had caused him to wait
how often a good deed leads to an enormous loss.
Wherefore art thou at my quest,
when all I honestly intended was rest?
April 19, 2017, at 3:00
About someone, I’ve just met: a limerick.
Nothing wrong with a haiku for a friend getting married in the morning.
I’ve always loved haikus, limericks and all short poetry. This one I wrote in Grade 8 (at 14 years). It was an assignment from a teacher, who is now a colleague and reads this blog. The few drops of rain we’ve had reminded me of this poem.
The first version of this poem, was written when I was fifteen. Regrettably, it still applies.
Some will be offended, but the time has come to speak harsh words about the murders of those who produce our food.
Words cannot describe the infinity of loss.
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.