Tag Archives: death

111 Days Walking

On New Year’s Day 2019, I lost a dear friend to reckless driving. 

Few months back, he’d mapped it out and said that it would take only 111 days to walk to where I am. This poem is inspired by that conversation.

Here you go Niekje.

You said you’ll be
Right over, it‘s only 111
Days walking;
I said I’mma put the
Kettle to boil and make you
Some koffie

Why didn’t you come
Right over, it‘s only 111
Days walking;
If you did you’d (still) be here
With me, and none of this
Would‘ve happened.

You liar.

You said I got plenty
Of time, cuz it‘ll be 111
Days walking;
But that quiet New Year’s
Morning has taken you further
From me away

And you’re never gonna
Come anymore, not with 111
Days walking;
I know you didn’t want to go
This way, and I know you were
Fighting for your life
But that driver was too reckless
You had too short a ride

I’mma put the
Kettle to boil and make you
Some koffie, and you
Can have some after
111 days walking.

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Daily Prompt: Bury

But to immortalise her
Love, it first had to die, then
Frozen in its passionate glory
Buried within the depths of
Her heart, full in beauty
Like it would never
Live again.

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Daily Prompt: Commit

Just as she lived
To love him
So she died.

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Distance

Translated from a beautiful Buddhist saying I read.

The distance between
Life and death is but a breath
Between ignorance and wisdom
But a thought.

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Armour Of Death

My muse it calls and I shall heed,
A prose it sings, to write and bleed.

You told me to bring
Me back, but can’t you see
You’re connected to me;
I can’t return when you’re
Not back, my heart is dead
Though it might resurrect;
For now it lies, protected
Beneath the armour of death
Perhaps one day it’ll live
May it come sooner yet.

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Part 1: Death

A fellow poet drew out some raw emotions long ago, so here they are.

He pushed those words
Through her heart, good
Intentions laced with
Gentleness; it fell to the
Ground as he walked
Away, in spasms and
Shock, unable to die.

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Sojourn

I’ve always imagined writing contrasting perspectives within a prose would be daunting; my muse inspires a first attempt of darker messages with redeeming resolutions. Initial scribbles became an effective bridge, changing the prose reluctantly to lyrical form:

I wake between the realms of death and life
Not knowing if I’m dead or still alive
The pain that sears, it numbs my soul
Leaves me breathless, down out and cold

No longer can I hear your voice
Lost in my quest for love divine
Will you forsake me in darkness vile
Or save me from this fate of mine

I walk the valley of the shadow of death
Fear and desolation in every breath
My eyes no longer see the truth they behold
For love has passed when hatred stole

No longer can I hear your voice
Lost in my quest for love divine
Will you forsake me in darkness vile
Or save me from this fate of mine

I’m not right stumbling, I can’t see anymore
Yet I’m not wrong, for your light shall restore

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