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Post by dennismlane on Jan 17, 2012 6:35:35 GMT
I have had different reactions to this poem of mine, some people see it as sad, others as hopeful. When I wrote it it was a bit of both...
Hope you all like it!
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Turn Of The Season
The streets billow with dust and debris. Trees, almost bare in the late winter chill, point accusing fingers to the sky, while a mangy dog scratches around the shell of a car, smelling for intruders.
From a cafe on the corner leaks the tinny echo of good times; Brenda Fassie – Weekend Special. Time on my hands, I stroll over to escape the high veld cold.
Inside it is warm, redolent of old oil and fresh bread. I sit at a metal table, the plastic cloth bright and cheerful in the gloom. My coffee comes, a pot of hot water accompanied by a bowl of faded brown granules. I'm not in Sandton now ...
Time passes slowly off the beaten track; experience soaks into the pores rather than sparking instantly on retina. I sip my cup of almost coffee and just breathe.
Savuka sing of a cruel, crazy, beautiful world – to the gentle percussion of drops on steel. I stand, pull up my collar, and go outside to watch the dust wash away.
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Post by limebirdwriters on Jan 25, 2012 9:48:40 GMT
Lovely I definitely see it as hopeful!
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Post by loupy on Feb 6, 2012 8:11:48 GMT
I really like it! I see it as hopeful too.
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Post by dennismlane on Feb 6, 2012 8:43:23 GMT
Glad you both liked it Thanks for the comments!
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Post by ottabelle on Feb 11, 2012 0:16:16 GMT
I sip my cup of almost coffee and just breathe
I love the poem, especially that line. I saw it as... hmm... not sad and yet not hope? What would that emotion be.. It feels like life to me.
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