1 Basking in the sun of voter approval
2 Thank you Kundera, try again, Saint-Saëns
3 The wisdom of whiskey, as well as whisky
4 The right steps to take
5 Entertaining the barbarians
6 There used to be a gentleman
7 The startled solipsist
8 The apotheosis of the pumpkin
9 Gister is ‘n mite
23 July 2012 -0.2
Basking in the sun of voter approval
The lizard’s expletives
were not very clear
due to the nature
of his tongue.
He always split his infinitives
to fearlessly speak
where no lizard has spoken before.
The lizard wasn’t really lazy,
just a touch lascivious,
which is actually necessary
if you want a new generation
He was a good speaker
at political conventions,
and due to the nature of his tongue,
he could effortlessly
convince opposing parties
that he passionately supported
each of their causes.
When found guilty
of corruption and nepotism,
the lizard dropped his tail
for the media to feast on,
and found himself another rock in the sun
where he continued promising
and other careless insects
to his supporters.
The lizard seemed fast asleep
but never stopped preparing
speeches for every occasion:
one to prove he was right
and the other that he wasn’t wrong.
5 June 2011 Sat 0.7
Thank you Kundera, try again, Saint-Saëns
The elephant glides forward,
his feet never leaving the ground
his feet never touching the ground,
he is there among the mopanies,
he is not there
there is no sound …
here is the elephant
right in front of us!
don’t play the DVD
on which Saint-Saëns
hopelessly fails to imitate
the gait of an elephant;
such a pity he didn’t stick to swans
and that he was so unenlightened
about the incredible lightness
The wisdom of whiskey, as well as whisky
Tonight I feel a tad circumambulatory
only a tiny, tiddly bit, fortunately,
so I’ll take two tots of hubris
and bathe my thoughts in dallynaciousness,
to say I’m on my way
to rid myself of every trace of anything pugnacious
as pugilistic notions can easily turn outrageous
and insist that the previous line rhymes with mouse
whereas we are all cognizant
that the latter line rhymes indeed with grouse,
that bird that’s become so famous in thirsty circles
and feared by some to have been drunk into oblivion,
but seeing that this is a poem meandering straight to the point,
allow me to reveal an inner truth –
utterly and inalienably, incontrovertibly sound,
it’s got a lot to do with a ravishing girl called Ruth …
only I’ve forgotten it’s actual pristine be-ability
but I promise to reveal it next time round.
Now that you’ve meandered strait to the point of…. Ruth
I can’t wait to hear the story next time around.
I love Great Grouse Scotch whiskey! Beside being relatively smooth and affordable, it makes you very drunk when you want to get drunk! It’s 6:35 a.m. where I am, and I hope I haven’t disturbed my neighborhors with laughter!
I really like the poem, it is clever and sophisticated, satirical, definitely funny, and not without a dash of wisdom, and those familiar DeWallian insights that have a way of sneaking up on you, and then with a sudden—booo! This poem has a lot for the reader to chew on, and to drink to!—interesting, playful words, effective rhyme, well, just an all around, easy, metrical flow.
Ruth must be quite some lady, to have sent you over the cliff in this way! My hat’s off to her, that is, if she’s not some kind of quantum “figmentation” of the mind!
hello Dewaal and thank you for your great poem, for me i like funny poems and i must confess that Shel Silvertstein is the”poet” who made me write again three years ago…. I had been so delusionned with serious poetry when i was young because this poetry was hiding me real life….So i quitted poetry for 25 years to discover the world….Now i can write again and don’t want consider myself seriously anymore….I rather agree with art when he say there is all kind of poetry for all kind of people….At last i confess you that i do what i can with my intelligence…..Like us all… with all my respect Yannn
23 April 2009 0.9
The right steps to take
The mosquitoes are made of wire,
elastic and thin sheets of plastic,
whereas the cows consist of
canned ham and tins
of corned beef.
Cars stand in the parking lot,
sweating and tossing their heads.
Their saddle bags are filled with empty cans
of coke, used tissues and half empty packs of cigarettes.
The politicians are beautiful shirts,
expensive dresses and stylish shoes,
the right kind of bling
and learned-looking glasses;
inside their clothes are nothing.
Dogs form secret societies,
debate for days on end
on how to keep humankind
from reeling loquaciously
over the carbon cliff,
how to keep them stepping ahead,
help them avoid their urges
to exterminate their kind –
how to step ahead safely
albeit mostly in the pooh.
20 July 2010 Sat 2.9
Entertaining the barbarians
Helium is a noble gas,
the captain said, picking up his tea cup,
but it can be a bastard
as nobility sometimes are.
This ship is held aloft
by one million cubic metres of the stuff,
he continued, waving his hand upward.
This Zeppelin … a passenger, a banker,
Theoretically yes, sir, the captain acknowledged.
But this ship is technologically
light years ahead of those that …
crashed … the banker added firmly.
The captain’s moustache twitched in annoyance,
but he hid it behind his teacup.
We will be landing in Rover City soon,
the captain announced with a reconstituted smile.
You can just see the ice-cap of the north pole
creeping over the horizon,
and that small green patch down there
is the city – fifteen point five
square kilometres of benign earth environment.
They started their stately descent,
while the captain manfully
overcame his revulsion
to the raw-smelling banker brute from earth,
and pointed out to him
where the last Rover
was still standing far below
in the sticky red-brown sand.
Robin Hawkins 20 July
Again a wonderfully enigmatic piece of work. This is just superb. Your “characters” are exquisitely crafted.
29 July 2011 Sat 3.4
There used to be a gentleman
is incarcerated in his clothes.
restricts him to exclusively polite themes.
is ingekerker in sy klere.
is beperk tot eksklusief beleefde terme.
pronunciation and enunciation
hold him within the confines
of the social circles
of his peers.
se uitspraak van woorde
beperk hom binne
die sosiale kringe
van sy portuurs.
He is held in thrall
by the conventions of his class,
the bonds of marriage
he is bound to;
he is expected to obey
the conditions of his contract,
the rules and regulations
of his financial institution.
Hy is vasgevang
deur die konvensies van sy klas,
die bande van die huwelik
hou hom op sy plek;
daar word van hom verwag
om die voorwaardes
van sy kontrak na te kom,
asook die reëls en regulasies
van sy finansiële instelling.
The gentleman is a figment
of the imaginations,
something of the past.
In these times
we are completely free
Die meneer bestaan net in teorie,
iets van die verlede.
Deesdae is ons volkome vry
is ons nie?
30 September 2011 Sat
The startled solipsist
was regarded as one of the most brilliant,
if not the most brilliant
thinkers of his time,
and some other people,
including his daughter and his gardener.
It is self-evident,
he explained to his colleague,
Doctor Margaret Mills,
that because I am stating
that everything in existence,
physical as well as non-physical
are extensions of my mind –
emanates from my mind:
this building, the continent,
earth, the solar system, the universe,
including your cigarette –
owe their existence
to the activity
of my mind.
This isn’t arrogance,
it is simply true.
Doctor Mills blew a thin stream
of smoke past Doctor Childs’ left ear.
Your argument is flawless,
Doctor Childs nodded sagely.
Except for one point,
Doctor Mills continued,
you have identified the wrong source;
it is my mind from which you
and everything else are born.
Die solipsis word onthuts
word beskou as een van die mees briljante,
indien nie die briljantste,
denkers van sy tyd –
en ‘n paar ander,
insluitende sy dogter en tuinier.
Dit is klaarblyklik,
verduidelik hy aan sy kollega,
doktor Margaret Mills,
dat omdat ek dit stel
dat alles wat bestaan,
fisies sowel as nie-fisies,
maaksels is van my denke –
alles in der daad
ontstaan uit my gemoed:
hierdie gebou, die vasteland,
die aarde, die sonnestelsel, die heelal,
insluitende jou sigaret –
alles het hulle bestaan te danke
aan die bedrywigheid
van my denke;
dis nie arrogansie nie,
bloot die waarheid.
Doktor Mills blaas ‘n strepie
rook verby doktor Potgieter se linkeroor.
Jou argument is foutloos,
Doktor Potgieter gee ‘n wyse kopknik.
Behawe vir een puntjie,
gaan doktor Mills voort –
jy het die verkeerde bron geïdentifiseer:
dit is my gemoed waaruit jy
en alles anders gebore is.
2 Jan 2012 Sat 3.1
The apotheosis of the pumpkin
The high-ranking pumpkin
had a high forehead,
a sign of intelligence.
He looked down upon beetroot,
who bled too easily
Carrots he could stand;
they were generally straight
and did not interfere
with one’s far-flung
areas of interest.
The pumpkin liked compost,
of course, it provided food for thought;
the rotting remains of the past
was exactly to his taste.
He drank a lot, water
with traces of substances dissolved,
but water essentially.
The pumpkin stretched out
luxuriously in the sun;
life was good,
he was ripe
for a higher existence.
Gister is ‘n mite
Professor Blandon se dink
is baie rats
aangesien dit nie geketting word
deur irriterende beperkinge nie –
goed soos bepaalde voorskrifte
en algemeen aanvaarde beginsels,
waarskynlik weens die puik Chardonnay
wat hy en sy twee kollegas analiseer en waardeer,
nadat die baie verdienstelike Merlot opgeraak het.
Die professor steek sy geleerde voorvinger uit
na sy vriend en kollega,
professor Meintjies (Ontologie),
maar steek gelukkig nie sy oog raak nie.
Jy dink tyd is tyd, nè Jannie?
Sy oë is gevul met ‘n vreeslike kennis.
Ja man, antwoord professor Meintjies,
natuurlik is tyd is tyd vir nog Merlot
en hy hou sy glas uit.
Nou wat dink jy’s tyd?
vra die derde kollega,
professor Oliphant (Etiek).
Hy is ‘n imposante figuur
met sy stadige, waardige bewegings
en oë wat star staar
na ‘n innerlike wêreld.
Professor Blandon beduie bedrewe met sy glas
en mors ‘n bietjie wyn.
druk ‘n vinger in die klein rooi poeletjie
en lek dit af.
Tyd? hervat Blandon
amper onkant gevang, die onderwerp is tyd,
hulle is besig om tyd te bespreek.
Tyd, sê hy, en vat ‘n fynproewersteug
van sy Merlot, wat die inhoud
van sy glas bra skielik laat krimp.
Tyd is maar net hier, verduidelik hy:
Just us chickens.
Hy kan nie help
om lekker te lag vir die briljante stukkie humor nie.
Dis net hier, al die buitenis … residu … al die res.
is net hier, gekompli … gekompak … saamgepers in hierdie sekonde.
Daars’ie ‘n gister nie, jy sien, dis alles nou.
Sy voorvinger en duim
wys ‘n klein oop plekkie
wat die sekonde simboliseer.
Professor Meintjies kyk swaarmoedig na die oop plekkie.
Dis blerrie klein, brom hy.
Professor vat nog ‘n versoberende sluk van sy Merlot.
It’s all got …
It’s all you got old Jannie.