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Tales from the Flow

‘n knippie kaneel liefde

Buite is dit grys en nat en soms net soms, is daar die dreun van donder, wat speels kom hallo sê. Voor my lê ‘n half geknibbelde pannekoek, die smaak en geur van kaneel nog diep in my tong gestreel. En dit bring herhinneringe terug na een van my ou gedigte in my eerste bundel, Tales From The Flow. Continue reading “‘n knippie kaneel liefde”

Die uniekheid van mens wees


Maak jou oë toe vir ‘n oomblik. Verbeel jou jy sien mense van verskillende gelowe en rasse. Verbeel jou jy sien deur hulle velle en jy sien die bloed in hulle are. Verbeel jou dat jou seun of dogter of man of vrou ‘n bloed oortapping nodig het. Verbeel jou ‘n nie-Christen of ‘n anderskleurige as jy se bloed is die enigste wat daardie persoon kan red. Continue reading “Die uniekheid van mens wees”

Doll’s eye

doll's eye

Grey skies full of soot
clouds colored in despair
dust, dry to the root
cars rusted laying about
as if thrown by a restless child
burned out husks of yesterday
a single doll on her back
in woe looking at the sky
her human family had to die…

when the horsemen came
four bringing revelation
nation devouring nation
nothing more left alive
silently the doll looked at the sky
the day humanity wept and died…

(c) 2012 Allen Simpson
to humanity, who might never learn …

an old poem with a post-apocalyptic theme from my first poetry book ‘Tales From The Flow’

My first Book: Tales from the Flow
My first Book: Tales from the Flow

children of the lunar light

chased by the fear of man
we ran as fast as we could
man grew ignorant and we were forgotten
just remembered in foul fairy tales
like red riding hood

we spread out across the earth
where Nature still calls out our names
man by day wolf by night
we are the children of lunar light

you disbelievers fear
we are ‘gone’ but not forgotten, hear
we are calling in the night
we softly huff and puff
and blow your unbelief away

before you were, we were there
find our paw-prints everywhere
in Rome, Carpathia
and fair Transylvania
and even further than the northern snows

we will never die
you go on believe the lie
we are spread out across the earth
where Nature still calls out our names
man by day wolf by night
we are the children of lunar light

(c) 2015 allen simpson

Lot se Vrou se Lot

lot se vrou 1

Lot se vrou se lot
deur Allen Wolfie Simpson

versteen
asof in die oog van Medusa
pad trauma
road kill
steenbokkie wat het jou besiel
was jy soos Lot se vrou oorweldig
oor wat jy gesien het?
het die lig van die kar
Jou versteen
jou siel ontbeen?

en ons, sal ons versteen
in die lig net staar
as gevaar op ons neerdreun?

Sal ons ver-ys of sal ons smelt
in oomblikke van gevaar?
oomblikke waar…
ons onself ontmoet?

weird dat bokke net stil staan as ‘n kar voor hulle op doem op die pad.
weird dat as ‘n glas val, ons net stilstaan tot hy in skerwe spat…
weird dat ons soms eers in skok oomblike verstaan hoeveel sout ons werd is,
weird dat daar soms iemand is, wat keer vir al wat daar werd is…

(c) 2015 allen simpson

Die gedig kom uit my eerste bundel ‘Tales from The Flow’ en is die gedig waarmee ek ‘n kompetisie in geskryf het en toe as finalis my eerste bundel mee gewen het.

My first Book: Tales from the Flow
My first Book: Tales from the Flow

lot se vrou 2

Ek wou nog altyd ‘n foto neem en die gedig hier plaas, toe neem ek sommer ‘n paar.

lot se vrou 3

Hanneliese moes eenvoudig ook ‘n beurt kry 🙂

 

Foto’s 1,3 en 4 kopiereg Allen Simpson en Hanneliese Bredell

Foto 2 (My Bundel) Kopiereg Allen Simpson

for my muse

Einstein said:”Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.”

inside my head, I find you there
in silent sacred moments
in memories like an old friend
I see clearly your picture
you were always there
inside my mind

when I feel all is lost
the silence whisper my name
it fills the emptiness
and you always feel near
you never fade away
you never disappear

my little voice
my sweet companion
my guardian angel

my muse, will you never fail me

(c) 2014 allen simpson

to live is the virtue of greatness

stricken with malady
crawling through the hell of limitations
only the body can endure
the spirit breaks not
but through every affliction
is reborn again, a little

the lunacy only the curse of disease brings
fades with faith and meditation
and long before the Gates of Summerland
the Mother Goddess always offers her hand
and the choice is always a gift

And to die is always a good choice
but to live for the Goddess is greatness

(c) 2014 allen simpson
thought that went through my head while being sick these past four days

touched by a god

a lone child flies a red kite
and the wind plays a soothing song
there are memories in the moment
as if you are touched by a god

the child lets the string go
and the red kite becomes an eagle
the child laughs and I see my dreams
on paper wings flow in the wind

it is a good day
when you are touched by a god

(c) 2014 allen simpson

Agnus Dea

here I am Oh Goddess
sacrificed in the name of another god
put on a cross of ridicule
because I believe not the same

I am just the Agnus Dea
the lamb of the Goddess
slain, tortured, burned
in another god’s name

Shapash, my Goddess is weaping
her father El Elyon in shame
people killing us off
in a warped version of his name

we are the lambs sacrificed
burning bright like stars
we will return like the Phoenix
and bring the truth of the Gods
to earth again….

(c) 2014 allen simpson
Agnus Dea – latin which means ‘ Lamb of the Goddess’
Shapash – Canaanite Goddess known as the torch of the Gods
El Elyon – Hebrew name for the Canaanite Moon God El

Photo art by Keith van Zyl

eight legs

intricacy hidden by a vision most foul
an abysmal touch of beauty
eight legs skittering on a string
the spider hovers before me
like a hummingbird reaching for honey

‘shall I become a god and slay it?
is it my nature to kill
what I do not understand?
my kind kill arachnids with no remorse
shall I join in and demolish this being?’

eight legs writhing in the air
until it climb up to it’s lair
it lives another day
there is no logic in killing it anyway
it is just a spider
and it is a vision most foul
but not to me
to me it is beautiful

why do we fear something so small
and run like frail little cowards
from something that would probably die
in disgust,
tasting our bitter knowledge:

that we fear the different….

(c) 2014 allen simpson

In Sanguine Catatonia

abiding time,
like a snail on a long road I take it slow
waiting, dreaming, anticipating
I want you to hear my name
scream it to the night sky as I die
whisper it in your arms as I live again
love immortal pain sublime

abiding time,
like a wicked pleasure awakens the heart
feeling, tasting, anticipating
when I make you mine
you possess me now with your darkest charms
my sweetest prison never let me go
scream my name to the night sky

sanguine fantastic your bite cures the light
the dark I crave in your immortal eyes
the bitter-sweet that tells no lies
my amber rose-drops fall in the snow-carpeted mind
and lights a candle that never dies
Hold me, caress me as I flow away
scream my name and save me….

In my sanguine catatonia
only you hold the key
I am ever lost without you

(c) 2014 allen simpson

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