One safe place

The beautiful song by Marc Cohn

From the movie "Brokeback mountain"

How many roads you’ve traveled
How many dreams you’ve chased
Across sand and sky and gravel
Looking for one safe place


Will you make a smoother landing
When you break your fall from grace
Into the arms of understanding
Looking for one safe place

Oh, life is trial by fire
And love’s the sweetest taste
And I pray it lifts us higher
To one safe place

How many roads we’ve traveled
How many dreams we’ve chased
Across sand and sky and gravel
Looking for one safe place

Artisjok - one of the most beautiful erotic poems in Afrikaans . . .

Image: Nan Goldin "The Hug"

Artisjok

Laatnag vleg ’n skielike ritseling

My stadig los

Uit swaar arms van my geliefde,

Donker suster van my dood.

Dou sak heeltemal te vroeg vanjaar

Op my grasperk en plante neer.

Takke en blare ril nog waarskuwend

As ek deur die wind na my groentetuin beur.

My flitslig skok die grootste plant

Wat haar lang, silwergrys blare vou,

Ritselend toe, dig

Om die geheime, pers, glinsterende vrug.

Raak my aan, asseblief,

Raak my nie nou al aan nie.

Uit hierdie bitter grond gebore

Tussen windhande wat my wil klief.

Ek vou die stingels versigtig weg,

Pluk ‘n paar blare en proe,

Huiwerig om my tong,

Donkergroen, suursoet parfuum van die nag.

Net een maal het ek jou so sien lê

Ná ‘n laatnagmaal van artisjok.

Jou hande was lig oor jou borste gevou,

Jou bene terughoudend gekruis.

Laag vir laag het ek jou afgeskil

Met ‘n versigtige, moedelose tong,

Tot by die diep, geheime, bitter vrug

Wat weer terugtrek tussen jou dye.

Deur strelende hande van jou geliefde,

Jou lokkende suster van die slaap

Kon ek hoor: raak my aan, asseblief,

Raak my nooit meer aan nie;

te lig om ’n groen hart finaal te klief.

© H.J. Pieterse (uit: Die burg van hertog Bloubaard, Tafelberg, 2000)

Your moon fills my sky

Your moon fills my sky.
Pale light filters
A soft wash
Over memories muted colors.
A night jar whispers
Its gentle call to the past
As the silk of your skin
Beneath my fingers
Lights fire.

Peter Hollard

The Clown

He rants at the moon
and he rants at the sky
at each of the planets
as they spin by.
He remembers the spring
and the autumn too
the hot days of summer
all the winters he knew.
He howls with the wind
and he cries in the rain
recovers in sunlight
and forgets his own pain.
He's dressed as the clown
with his broad painted smile
and the grease paint tears
that roll from his eyes.

Peter Hollard

The Jackson Song - Patti Smith

Dedicated to my eldest son who became a Dad yesterday . . . for you, when you were born . . .

Little blue dreamer go to sleep
Let's close our eyes and call the deep
slumbering land that just begins
When day is done and little dreamers spin

First take my hand now let it go
Little blue boy you're on your own
Little blue wings as those feet fly
Little blue shoes that walk across the sky

May your path be your own
But I'm with you
And each day you'll grow
He'll be there too
And someday when you go
We'll follow you
As you go, as you go

Little blue star that offers light
Little blue bird that offers flight
Little blue path where those feet fall
Little blue dreamer won't you dream it all

May your path be your own
But I'm with you
And each day you'll grow
He'll be there too
And someday when you go
We'll follow you
As you go, as you go

And in your travels you will see
Warrior wings remember Daddy
And if a mama bird you see
Folding her wings will you remember me
As you go, as you go
As you go, as you go

The song by Patti Smith

Thanx to a special friend who sent me this song . .. . .

Snow sentry - a snowman poem

Dedicated to my artist, hermit friend who painted this picture of his children ( when they were still small) building a snowman in the snow during one of the rare occasions when it snowed in the Eastern Free State in South-Africa. The old car wreck in the back ground is symbolic . . . . .


Painting by Lourens Oosthuizen

See the snowman
all in white -
standing still
and silent-like
as soft snow
settles light
on this cool
long frosty night.

Crystal flakes spin
round and fall,
covering him
beyond recall.

Still he'll stand
sentry tall,
keeping night-watch
over all.

Kate Monroe

Every Grain Of Sand - Bob Dylan

Dedicated to a special friend . .who is hanging in the balance of this reality of his . . . . . .

In the time of my confession, in the hour of my deepest need
When the pool of tears beneath my feet flood every newborn seed
There's a dyin' voice within me reaching out somewhere,
Toiling in the danger and in the morals of despair.

Don't have the inclination to look back on any mistake,
Like Cain, I now behold this chain of events that I must break.
In the fury of the moment I can see the Master's hand
In every leaf that trembles, in every grain of sand.

Oh, the flowers of indulgence and the weeds of yesteryear,
Like criminals, they have choked the breath of conscience and good cheer.
The sun beat down upon the steps of time to light the way
To ease the pain of idleness and the memory of decay.

I gaze into the doorway of temptation's angry flame
And every time I pass that way I always hear my name.
Then onward in my journey I come to understand
That every hair is numbered like every grain of sand.

I have gone from rags to riches in the sorrow of the night
In the violence of a summer's dream, in the chill of a wintry light,
In the bitter dance of loneliness fading into space,
In the broken mirror of innocence on each forgotten face.

I hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the sea
Sometimes I turn, there's someone there, other times it's only me.
I am hanging in the balance of the reality of man
Like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand.