Powered by automobilic hind legs –
Now lifeless, she gives way
And crumbles on her side
As if in patient meditation
On what life is all about
In that resigned position.
TO JUNE LINDSAY
You are
The gourd that contained
The sour-sweet milk
That oiled the grinding stone
With soft academic granules
Which I drank
And derived eternal bliss
In the joys of methodology
Accuracy
And pedagogical precision.
IN PRAISE OF RAIN
Might is the roll of thunder
On the mountains yonder
Did you listen?
Mightier is the heart within locked
Like a cargo ship docked.
The lightning cuts across the dark skies
Blinding the unslumbering spies
Did you see?
The unspoken message is uttered loud
The ear it falls on – too proud.
Then down pours the torrent
The earth heaves in rhythmic sighs
Did you feel it?
The tears that welled up in my eyes
Surge forth, pursuing the current.
The foliage of the forest rejoices, enraptured
The berries nurture the palate of the eland
Did you taste them?
It makes part of the unfinished errand
When the sweetness, like ice, melts – captured.
No soul would ever scent this rain
It falls on the mountain, too in the plain
Did you smell it?
It was just a fire spark whose smoke justifies
The meal before dark.
NOBLE AMBITION
He climbed the smooth eucalyptus
Whose slithering slimy surface shone
Like the anointed back of a young bride
He threw his limbs about it in an
Oracular, ecstatic critic-proof spectacle –
Now he celebrates the feat
Riding aboard a sphagnum of shattered
Shapeless juvenile dreams.
HER FINAL PLEA
Listen to me
You the young generation
Heed my advice
Those who love life.
I once held
Mother-earth in adoration
Now I’m spent,
Cut by this knife.
A family and a job
Were my future ambition;
My graduation ceremony
Was grand.
How I wished
To serve this nation!
Cut by this knife,
I no more stand.
I looked for love,
I wanted to be loved
But love
In my mouth tasted sour
I tried religion
I wanted to be saved;
Cut by this knife
I wait for that hour.
Watch then how you behave
Perish not
In your bloom –
Do not go young
To the grave
For when I cross over
There’ll be no more room
For the young.
Say no to money
Read your books
Tomorrow
You’ll jump and rejoice
My sister
Do not mind your looks
Avoid this knife
Listen to my advice.
