HANOVER PARK

Daa’ loep Tiema, sy’s wee’ met die lyf

Windjie waai en mince haa’ kuif

Voete’s vaal van al ‘ie loep

Winkel toe om brood te koep.

Die kinnetjies speel buite by die blok

Pa het lankal uitgeklok

Hy’t ee’ste uitgegooi op die hoek

Lekke’ líewe, vríet net koek

Kan’tie sy naam was heel tyd in die boek

Te veel mense het hom ve’vloek

Nou is Tiema stok-siel allíen

Soek ‘n burk om míen te spíen.

Wan’ die líewe is swaa’

Al’dou is djy waa’

Die sukkel hou nie op nie

Soe o’s drink ma’ nog ‘n doppie

Gevríet net ma wee’ in die sand

En hulle sê is o’s land

Soe ‘it is mos o’right om kak te vríet

Drown die sorrows en ve’dríet

Totdat die ouens wee’ begin’e skiet

En nog ‘n laaitie moet al wee’ djiet

Mang toe as hy lucky is

Onder die grond en weg met die lus.

Die Droomdief

Developed with the pupils from the

Lettie de Klerk Primary School Arts Project

in Pienaarsig Nieu Bethesda.

Die Droomdief is a work-shopped children’s play that will be performed by the pupils of the Lettie de Klerk Primary School Arts Project which is a voluntary community outreach project coordinated and facilitated by Michael Wentworth. The story was developed over a period of four weeks with the participants in the Saturday drama component of the project. The cast is comprised of students between the ages of 9 and 11 who are currently in grades 4 to 6.

HIE’SA

Van hie’ bo

Lyk die hele spot befok

Me’nie liggies en skuitjies

Daa’ver.

Van hie’ bo

Klink die hele spot befok

Me’nie shoesh en toet-toet

Daa’ ver.

Van hie’ bo

Voel die hele spot befok

Me’nie space en kalmte

Daa’ ver.

Van hie’ bo

Is ‘it ma’ o’right.

THE VOW

Now we are not alone

What has been is no more

Today is the seed

Tomorrow but its fruit.

Now we embrace the all

We’ve each claimed to love

Little nuances previously ignored

Becomes a part of the whole.

In words I’ve failed to convey

Exactly what it is I feel

I’ve accepted you until death

With love steeped in years.

Now I say I love you

And I hope that you understand.

WARTS AND ALL

I come to you with my life

Energy oozing from my very pores

I am all in thought

A struggling manifestation of the will.

Far have you wandered and wide

Self preserving you searched

For an unreality that blinds

Lost to all that you have found.

We share fragile moments

When I am someplace else

And you with someone not present

We play the same sad games.

I am this that I so vehemently indulge

And you are no longer with me.

MONDAY THE TWENTY-FORTH

Tense moments conceived within

The miserable confines of ill-content

Desperately do I yearn for release

From this life that binds me.

And even the moving euphoria

Seems reduced in the face of such longing

The means seem pathetic

As I shed these silent tears.

Don’t just hold me

Take me away from all of the denial

Wounded hearts and diluted smiles

That shade such balmy days.

There has to be other paths

There has to be a new day!

1994

After all this time

All the crap I’ve been through

Means nothing in your eyes

But the further denial of myself.

IMPOSSIBLE

To have you now

Here with me for a talk

Is as ridiculous as it ever seemed.

I’ve journeyed vast plains

Only to find upon my return

That the experience is negligible.

I must regress a thousand thoughts

To share an empty laugh

With the friends I left behind.

I see them clearly

But they fail to perceive me

Beyond the confines of their unreason.

Within this crowded space

I am most alone

Touched only by the pathetic resignation.

BV's Blues

In the serrated midnight shadows

A man stares at the moon on the wall

A single star burns the neck of his guitar

Leaving a mark of what should have been.

Fingers that dance in the moonshine

A face drawn with pain

He carries the mark of his experience

Creativity pours through his veins.

An ancient eastern harmony

Plays on the anxious silence

Thoughtful tones conjure images of wonder

As his song splits the night.

All that has been has brought you here

All that will come keeps you around

One day the loss will turn to riches

And the passion will fill the memory.

Still you must finger those strings

In which your being vibrates

A self washed by yearning

For that which lies deep in your soul.

And now your plight is understood

Now we have met in this denial

Uttering sounds that colour our tomorrows

Making music the world will hear.

One day soon it will come to pass

When brooding desires will be fulfilled

As a result of a chance encounter

With Brian’ies blues.

Love & Beauty

The trouble is, they say, that the systems are at fault; the government is corrupt and disinterested, bloated with officials who are just serving their own self interest, enriching themselves and those closest – loyal – to them; that party politics should not be a part of local government; that the opposition caters to a middle-class elite and is weak.

I call that a victim mentality: and while adults choose to succumb to this way of thinking, our Nation’s children – the world’s children – become victims of greed and stupidity and cowardice!

How cold is the heart that doesn’t feel joy at the sound of a child’s unbridled laughter? How cold is the heart that is not moved to tears at the sound of a child’s anguished cry? How much love can you show to those closest to you when you have no love for a stranger: when your heart is filled with hatred and prejudice? How cold is your heart?

True beauty exists in a child’s smile; true love is when you can open your heart to a child you never met before, a child whom you will never see again: someone else’s child who for the briefest moment is as important as your own – is your own!

Until such time, you have neither loved nor experienced beauty!

RECOLLECTIONS OF LOVE

I recall the first time we met

It was a windy autumn, mid-week morning

Your eyes shining, your smile true

Your voice, your hair and the most beautiful peasant skirt

Because its fabric caressed your body.

I recall the first time we made love

Urgent and lustful; yet whispering and tender

A perfect kiss immersed in the deep well of our being

Our bodies entwined, our souls’ dance explored

A fateful union consummated, living complete.

I recall the first time we were apart

I was home with another that ended too late

And then it was you in the arms of the other

Yet we danced still, sad and hopeful, flirting

With thoughts and dreams of a different time.

I recall the first kiss again

Steeped in years of unexpressed desire and emotion

Allowed for just a moment to live enough

To be able to reignite the smouldering passion

Giving substance to these recollections of love.

NINE...

Hello…

I wonder if the cycle is complete

Whether the act has meaning

How much of the routine is real?

An extension of quiet indulgence

Without any obvious scenes

The motions of something bigger

Than just you and me.

Wretched longing what do I feel

More refreshing disillusion

In which to steep intent

Here where the moon shines in a glass.

The left foot is amid the living

And the right waltzes with death

As I straddle the void

While the system rapes me.