Die ure , dae, weke loop naatloos inmekaar.. Al word dit steeds woedend warm, is die somer , soel aande ongetwyfeld klaar.. Later lig word, vroeg skemer, die eerste alarm van nog ‘n najaar, nog ...
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Author: Ina Orton
I started writing poetry about 25 years ago, but like most people suffer from Fof , fear of failure.
I am 65 years old and live in Bloemfontein, South Africa. Worked in Public Libraries for 34 years and am retired now. I am divorced and have a daughter and a son ,1 grandaugter.
My jeug ,grootste deel van my lewe is ongemerk, ongetwyfeld daarmee heen… Ouderdom, met skewe, sukkelstap , is ‘gegewe.. Onsigbaar vir ander, help nie om te ween, ru, gevoellloos uit die p...
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Die sonde soek my op hoe ek ookal beur en veg… Dit wil maar net nie stop! Al probeer ek, kruip krimpend weg.. Soos ‘n skilpad skuil in sy harde dop het ek my ook doelbewus onttrek van alle...
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My lewe is nou ‘n lang grys gang vol skadu’s met blertse hier en daar.. Soms oorweldig die gevoel my, ‘n dringende drang om blindelings te vlug, maar hoe en na waar? Daar is, ek wis ...
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I was not going to contact you again for I know I will never have you substantial by my side, always to remain… Not be a furtive fantasy I cannot persue.. There is, a shadow, someone you love, s...
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My first memory of Indians [From India] , is when I was only six years old . There was a pretty street on the edge of the main business centre, CBD, behind the town hall, a beautiful, white building p...
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And so we survived the winter once more.. Spring is showing her erratic face again as she appears sunny,smiling just to hide, or is overwhelmed by winter’s wind: warning refrain.. Weary we wait ...
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I stared at the woman in front of me in utter amazement. Her name was Sarah , but she was black, Like so many of the non-whites born in SA before ’94, she was given a “white” name as...
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Why poetry? I did not choose the genre (poetry), it chose me. It is a clche, but it is what it is! I find poetry an easy way to express what I see , feel and think on so many levels. I don’t hav...
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Faint fingers of daylight dance furtively across my creamy, closed curtains.. Birds are starting their dawn chorus joyfully! Soon the torture of the traffic will start for certain.. Most people in the...
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