i refuse

i refuse to write pale-skin poetry

i refuse to write pretend poetry

i refuse to write pity poetry

i refuse to write pastime poetry

titelloos

                vir Kim

ek hardloop uit kos

idees en 

geld uit

ek moet iets eet vanaand

my hand tas na

die blikkie gerookte mossels 

die eet 

daarvan 

is 'n siellose daad

hoe graag wil ek net aansit by 

een van jou borde kos 

vanaand

kos uit jou tuin

voorberei met jou hande

voorgesit met jou liefde

Her Dedication Made Quite a Sensation

I once knew a girl who chose the year Twenty-Twenty-One
to play piano concerts and have some musical fun
- it was a time in the world when morale was falling apart -
but in her music this bright-eyed Bridget took heart

She gave it her all, she gave it her best
she stayed focused on the path of her quest
And to give her practice and technique more certainty
she enrolled for lessons at the Rhodes University!

My mouth stood agape
as her repertoire took shape
She had many pieces up her sleeve
from a Bach gigue to a Chopin waltz – can you believe?!

Now see, her dedication
made quite a sensation
Playing concerts are like pulling off a stunt without a stunt-double
- there’s really no danger or trouble, only knees and nerves that go awobble

Before I faint from this overwhelming feeling of Awe and Wow
I call the Pianist of the Moment to take a bow
Bridget Darling, Bridget Dear
You have gracefully conquered the year

The bottom line is to remember this –
When with music you conspire
in your heart will always burn a vivacious fire!

where is your breath now?

think of it:
every human action or thought

happens on either the inbreath 

or the outbreath

only these two

but oh what a variety of qualities they can be:

long short shallow deep 

joyous stressed focused unfocused

dazzled frazzled curious shy 

despairing lyrical scared sacred 

confused or lucid 

how is your breath now?

Luister

die son sak silwer oor die oseaan by Grotto strand in Hermanus

daar is twee klein walvisse wat na-aan 

die eerste golwe hulle lywe uitsteek

die hele middag is hulle daar

ek loop na die water

ek is die enigste mens op die strand

ek het nie my bikini by my

ek trek my rok oor my kop

kaal loop ek reguit die golwe in

soos dit hoort

(hoe wonderlik dat 'n walvis nie hoef te verduidelik

dat hy nie klere hoef aan te trek nie)

met arms uitgestrek

my rug en kop fier en regop

voel asof ek na die binnekamer van my voorouers loop

ek kan nie my gewone onderwatergille gee nie

ek wil nie die walvisse wegskrik nie

met my kop onder die water kreun en grom ek saggies

 - ek glo vas hulle hoor my en dat hulle terug gesels

dit is net ek wat nie die ore het nie - 

ek kreun vir hulle die gedig van my dansende bene

ek skop vurig met my voete

stuur ek helder seine van my lewenslus

en my rede vir leef die diepsee in

skielik raak ek stil

ek probeer my seine terugsluk

ek is 'n mens wat deel is van die kak aanjaag en injaag die see in

ek is jammer Walvis vir die Mense wie ons is

kom ons bly stil en luister...

Mamela uLwandle 

Luister na die Oseaan

Mamela Umnenga 

Luister na die Walvis

unfurling of the heart

we might not understand all poetry

but we recognise a sublimity

a humanity

a muscular metaphorality

that unfurls our hearts

into resplendently rhyming astrality

die dreuning

die anglegrinders by die construction site dreun

die juno kaksuigtrok dreun

die generator by die bure dreun

die kreepy krauly dreun

die yskas dreun

die see se getye dreun

ek gaan lê in die bad 

sit my kop onder die water

net my mond wat uitsteek

en ek inkanteer een lang dik ohm 

om al die dreuning in die wêreld te vermom