a runaway child
in a blue field —
moon at day
Zindzile VII
I dreamt I was a child again
And I was walking on to you
So I can relive the chapters of life
Which I lived without you
I left the swing chair
Still going back and forth under the swing tree
My toys lying idle in the ground
Walking on to a happy being
The jacaranda shed its purple hood
Carpeting the path on my way to you
.
I passed by Celtic meadows
The horses have been left there– free
To roam in the wild untamed
As reprieve and recompense
For riding and dying in all history’s senseless wars
They understand this journey—
.
My dear Zindzile, my love, my all
I’ll sit you down and tell you
Everything I remember since my birth
I’ll show you all the birthmarks
In the most private parts of my life
Haiku #60
sugar ants
scooped with crystals to tea
sweet-hot death
Haiku #59
skylark down
bereft of song and height lies quietly
among lowly weeds
Zindzile VI
A song comes on like a long lost friend
My mind is once again a dance floor
of wooden polished planks
creaking under the weight of waltzing thoughts
Am reminded of our first slow dance
how shy you were and a little embarrassed
for now and then stepping on my feet
I had never been a dancer either
but the music came on
and you had a lovely dress on
there was nothing else to do
Am reminded of that flowery summer dress
few inches shy of your knees
that you love because it flatters your waistline
Am reminded of the scent of your neck
and blots of tears on my shoulder
My Zindzile—the selfsame song came on again today
And my feet itched for a dance
My arms reached out in the empty air—for your waist
All the while all alone – listening
I muttered under my breath
What a waste, what a waste
What a waste of a good song!
Early Days Of Madness
The sorrows that are—with or without our will
The terrors that set men lightly fleeing
It could only be this
Or something worse
A man was running along the street – and fast
There was sweat dripping off his brow
And terror in his unblinking eyes
Yet no one was after him
Or knew why or where
But I saw him get smaller
And disappear way beyond in selfsame speed
Seemed like he’ll never stop running
Like a man in early days of madness
He’ll run on a long while I thought
For the demons he was fleeing
I saw them in his eyes
Haiku #58
foggy morning?
nay, honey hunter’s smoke
attention soldier bees!
Marrakesh
One fine afternoon I sat outside
with such a capacity for joy
and like a little child I believed
I was controlling the movement of the clouds
with my brow.
Then from out of nowhere
a flash of blinding light
hit my eyes for a second
and I asked —
Is this the beckoning of the beloved?
Or a reflection of some silverware
Hanging outside a shop in Marrakesh
Empty Vase
everyone admits flowers are fated to pine
yet it’s never less sad with this knowledge
each time
There’s an emptiness that succeeds—
the quenching of our mortal desires
Zindzile V
Many a day and night I hoped – a lover forlorn
And my incessant passions dwelt for long
On the wind creations of fairy airs
As vivid as the brave imagination dares
And there I dwelt among silent groves
Whispering steaming words to a cold world
My hand clasps missing the fleeting doves
My fiery touch melting female figures of wax mold
Eventually did I burst out of this lonely dream
And finally did I find my beautiful — my isle girl
O I want to sing and dance and whirl
Having tasted love I want to shout and scream
My Zindzile– it is more delightful to wait on a lover real
Than fading images without the lover’s feel
