Maanligdanser

Ek staan en staar soos 'n gevangene,

peinsend agter glas.

Ek dog ek sien jou staan,

buitekant die skerp lig van beskawing,

jou voete in 'n plas.

Die reën het sopas opgehou,

jy staar terug na my,

in die bleek lig van die maan,

lyk jou oë amper grou..

Nou staan jy nader,

anderkant die glas,

net effens uit my reik.

Ek sien jou ligweg dans

tussen bome op die gras.

Jy't jou lang wit somerrokkie aan,

die een wat jy gedra het, destyds,

toe ons nog saam gedraai het

en gewip het op die varsitydansbaan.

Jy wals nou deur die tuin,

jy sweef moeiteloos oor rose,

oor lelies en jasmyn..

Ek kan jou byna aanraak,

ek kan jou liggaam voel,

ek onthou nou nog jou asem,

teen my nek, so koel,

so amper of die dansspoed

jou nooit kon moeg laat voel.

Ek's seker dit is jy,

dit lyk kompleet soos jy..

Ek moet net bietjie nader staan,

ek weet sodra ek aan jou raak,

sal ek verseker weet,

ek's seker dat dit so sal wees;

ek weet ook dan's ek vry...

Mona Lisa

Ek wou nie maar ek moes..

vir jou 'n ietsie skryf.

Herinnerings word lank bewaar

in die senus van my lyf..

Ek voel 'n kriewel in my kop se kant,

Jou glimlag hou aan spook by my  

:)

emoticon wat stilweg Mona Lisa

op die epos in my hand..

Passage on a passage

I walk down the long white passage, crossing other long white passages. 
I know not if this is the right way, but it is the logical way. 
The way an architect would have designed it, or perhaps an engineer. 
Architects aren't always logical, come to think of it, it might have been a doctor, thinking he is an architect..
However, I keep on walking, it turns out to be the right way, if not the only way, for me to get to the central command centre. The place where the nurses sleep, it turned out to be, on the tables. It is their main job nowadays, me thinks. The black skin contrasting with the white uniform and white walls and white patients. There are some nurses that are awake, it seems. They are dressed in blue, somehow their skin does not seem so black. It must be the lack of contrast with the blue. Dark blue, mixed with lighter blue, a few specs of turquoise. Blue on black, it doesn't matter much. She recovers with a sigh from the open-eyed sleep; perhaps one is issued blue once the open eyed sleep has been mastered...
Mrs S.., ... Or perhaps she is known as Dr K......?
"Yes, come, I will show you.." The blue nurse, she was in her own office, so perhaps she is the matron of this wing, walks down another passage. As I leave the office I see my mother's name on the wall: Mrs S****** / ward 6...

"She is sleeping", the blue one says. 
There are six beds in the ward. Five were steel cots with railings to prevent the patients from falling out, 
one is a low wood frame bed. My mother's bed is the one on the left, behind the door. 
She is sleeping, a frail woman with spectacles, dressed in brown slacks and wearing blue slippers and a light blue cardigan.

I touch her gently, shake her lightly:
"Ma, hello ma.."
As she wakes up, she looks confused, then her face breaks into a smile:
"Good to see you.." She does not say my name, but she is glad to see me, I ask how she is, 
she replies with a standard saying: "Fat and healthy" ... Although she probably has never been fat in her life. 
I hold her hand, I do not really like emotions, or perhaps it is that I am not truly able to control my emotions..
"I brought chocolate." I open the slab of dark albany, the type she so used to love, and hand her a piece.
 "It is nice." She sucks and chews it, then gets up:"Where is the bathroom? I have to go!" 
I am caught on the wrong foot, "I don't know.." 

However, she goes past me, into the first door on the left, a wide door. I can see the walls are tiled and in the corner I see a bath and a toilet, so this must be it. I turn around to wait by the bed, she returns in about four minutes, we stand there, next to her bed. 
I have nothing to say, holding her, I cannot hide my tears. 
"I will come and visit again," I lie. "I still have a few things to do in town," (I do) 
"Goodbye." 

I kiss her and start walking down the long wide passage,
turning right at the office of the blue nurse, 
keep walking towards the light, 
on the other side of the barred steel security door. 
The door is locked and I have to put my hand through it to reach the intercom button on the outside wall. 
Pushing it, the door unlocks. As I go through the gate, closing it, I look back along the passage. 
I can see a figure standing at the cross of the passages, waving at me. 
I think she is smiling, 
she must be smiling, 
I am in the sun, 
she's in the shade, 
I can't see clearly. 
She is happy, so she said.

I am not, but that's just me.

Come with me..

If I could take you with me, 
I would...
To the edge of my imagination, 
to the secrets of my soul, 
to my deepest fears, 
the peaks of my ecstasy...

There we can sit, 
staring out over the plains of eternity, 
the abyss of thought, 
the blinding light of knowledge..
Our legs dangling over the edge.

We can float away 
on the breath of dreams, 
slowly drift towards 
the multicoloured sunset of ideas.

Memories

I.. 
made some memories for me. 
Memories that's good 
and fancyful and free. 
And it's all about you and me. 

Memories do not have to be true, 
you see, 
it just have to be believable 
and beautiful and fanciful... 
and containing you, 
to satisfy me. 

You... 
Have to ensure that: 
You make enough 
memories in your youth 
to last you a lifetime, 
because you might need them... 

When you lie there, 
dreaming, wanting, 
pining for someone old, 
for someone new, 
someone borrowed, 
someone blue... 

Thinking of how it could have been, 
how it all would have been, 
how it should have been, 
had you made the other choice, 
had you listened to your inner voice.. 
Not the people around you, 
the ones that say they adore you, 
the ones that's trying 
to live your life for you.. 

Making memories with you, 
singing songs for you, 
writing poems about you.. 

I hope you have enough. 
Enough to last a lifetime, 
enough to keep you warm, 
enough to help you through 
the dark when the winter comes 
and the nightfall leaves you all alone.. 

For I, 
I've made enough, 
I hope. 

Enough to keep me warm, 
enough to keep me still.. 
enough to fill 
my heart and soul 
with things to think, 
with things to do, 
with things to say, 
for more than just a day. 

Something for 
the hot summer nights, 
the cold days, 
the lonely times, 
the dreary years... 
The neverending fights.. 

Yes, for all of these, 
I am all right. 

I.. 
made some memories for me. 
Memories that's good 
and fancyful and free. 
And it's all about you and me.

Lust in thought

I once gave to you my heart.. 

I thought. 

But in the end it was but another part... 

You thought.

You once gave your love to me, 

I thought 

your heart and soul, 

I was sure 

your attention and time, 

I recognised 

but in the end... 
it must have been 

just your body, 

the empty vessel for your soul,

It wasn't your soul, 

for that was already taken, 

broken, abducted, 

by someone just like me... 

Someone thinking that: 
Love could be 
both fanciful and free, 
love could be a thing of beauty, 
a golden chain, unchained, 
a silver locket, unlocked, 
a platinum ring, unbroken, 
a lifelong friendship, uninterrupted. 
How wrong can someone be? 

There we were, 
sitting in a tree. 
Both fanciful and free. 
We thought, 

but did not think... 

That love could be 
something meant 
for the likes of you and me...

Klasie kani-slapie

Klaasvakie vat my weg! 
Vat my weg na die Limbo land. 
Vat my hand en lei my deur 
die grys vallei.. 
Lei my na die skaduland, 
anderkant die spieëltjie-deur. 

Vat my deur die waterpoel 
van diep en donker denke, 
die rustige poel 
van helende louwarm wegraak 
in die grys van Limboland. 

Vat my deur die deur 
van half-onthou 
en half-ontdek. 
Vat my na die anderkant,
na daardie onmisbare, 
ondefinieërbare plek.. 

Die plek om 'n bietjie te droom, 
daar waar ek 'n ding of twee 
in my gedagtes kan formuleer... 

Daar in die limbo-land 
tussen slaap en wakker. 

Waar drome met woorde dans, 
die denke los rondloop, 
in die bondel vry 
en die vrugbare aarde 
met nuwe idees bestuif. 

Vrye gedagtes, 
ongebonde deur reëls 
van die fisiese bestaan, 
reële feite en vooroordele. 

Miskien, 
net miskien, 
kom daar 
'n sinvolle poging na vore, 
word 'n vrugbare idee gebore
uit die skemerdans van gedagtes 
met die geleentheid van geleerdheid. 

Die kombinasie van behoefte 
en geleentheid kan miskien 
in 'n virtueele kombinasie ontaard... 

Laat my in die diep droompoel induik, 
die korale van my brein deursoek, 
die gekleurde vissies 
van my verbeelding ontdek... 

Dalk is daar nog iets oor, 
iets wat nie net 
hormoongedrewe is nie, 
want keer op keer, 
moet ek myself keer 
om nie weer 
net in die groef te verval 
van die dwelm van verlang, 
van die drank van behoefte 
en drange te verdrink nie... 

Om nie die gedagte-ekstase 
van warm vel op te roep, 
in te snuif 
en in my herinneringe te versmoor nie.... 

Klaas Vakie vat my weg!