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.
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.
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.
This category is called “Poemish” because I don’t think of what I write as poetry. I fear calling it that might be too arrogant.
However, this is one attempt of which I remain proud and fond – and I’m as unable as unwilling to change my feelings.
Far be it from me to insult the great Elizabeth Barrett Browning but I remain perplexed as to why, why, why companies ever chose to torture us with the mini USB. I should add it is, in fact, the micro USB that is the truest source of my frustration. At the time of writing “mini” just worked better.
Apparently “Funeral Blues” (Stop all the Clocks) by W.H. Auden was originally written as satire. Then came “Four Weddings and a Funeral” and the poem’s popularity soared.
Originally written some time after Jodie died May 16, 2014.