The World’s shortest Poems.

By William Van Zyl (published September 2021) Listen to the podcast of this article online as a blog post: https://www.podbean.com/ew/pb-5iaj8-10f7cbb Have you ever wondered what is the shortest poem ever written? After a search, here is a result. The shortest poem in the English language, by the late great Muhammad Ali, is simply “Me, We”.… Continue reading The World’s shortest Poems.

My Poem is locked up in a sweet Mandarin; my Identity is sprinkled with spicy Cinnamon.

Listen to the article and poem: https://www.podbean.com/ew/pb-5wky8-10fc1f0 By William Van Zyl (Aug 2021) After writing this personal poem – ‘I come from …’ you will not believe how good I felt afterwards! Also, my creativity soared. The expression of my feelings and thoughts – at the same time delving into the great memories from the… Continue reading My Poem is locked up in a sweet Mandarin; my Identity is sprinkled with spicy Cinnamon.

Hickory, Dickory, Fig Tree – I ask of you – can you hear me?

By William Van Zyl (July 2021) Listen to the podcast of this article (listen while you read): https://www.podbean.com/ew/pb-gvr28-116868b Hickory, Dickory, Tree – Dockerty, Hockerty, Dock. A mouse Hickory Dickory Tree. The mouse went up the tree.The tree said no: “Not allowed.” The bark made it itch The mouse immediately went downHickory Dickory TreeTick tock, tick… Continue reading Hickory, Dickory, Fig Tree – I ask of you – can you hear me?

Beddeken-tossels Red Baba se Lewe: Die Kambro-kind.

Gebasseer op n ware verhaal.

Mev Venter lê bewusteloos op haar bed; n sagte suiggeluid breek die stilte in die slaapkamer.

Mev Venter toon geen respons.
Daar is die suig geluid weer.
Mev Venter lê roerloos dwars oor haar bed.
Op die grond beweeg n klein bondeltjie.
Twee klein armpies swaai en gryp in die lug.
Die klein vasgedraaide klein mensie kan nie meer huil nie.
Dit is dag twee.

Dan ontwaak Mev Venter uit haar diep slaap.
“Waar is my baba?”
Haar liefdevolle hand soek oor haar bed. Hy is weg.
Sy raak angstig.
Dan, kyk sy na die vloer.
“Daar is hy, daar is hy! Hy het iets in sy mond. O nee!”
Fransie maak sy oë oop as hy sy ma se stem hoor.
Sy mond beweeg in a suig beweging.
Dan swaai sy arms asof hy nie asem kan kry nie.
“Wat is in jou mond?” roep Fransie se ma uit as sy opspring en hom opraap.
Sy is deur die slaap. N diep slaap…