Spotlighting Pan-African Poetry

Biography

LES CHIMERES

Enlarge poem

13 rue St Antoines, Paris

I fell like Hemingway

(The similarity ends here)

writing in the bar

at St Paul

It’s called Les Chimeres

Illusions

I’m slightly high

on vin rouge

the label says Cahors.

I only notice the cigarette ends

when he changes the ashtray

My Franprix parcels

at my feet

promise a good dinner

they come

with their ubiquitous cigarettes

their tattoos

their pony tails

their Evian printed Tshirts

their Gallic charm.

A Frenchman knows

how to use his hands

his shoulders

his fisted movements

flirtatious-

his kiss on both cheeks

his smiles with narrowed eyes

he shrugs

pouts

leaves

The carrousel

goes round and round

and round

at St Paul

Hannah Lurie

Featured Poem:

NO TITLE NECESSARY / LET THERE BE LIGHT / THE COWBOY OF WARMBAD

Enlarge poem

NO TITLE NECESSARY

I knew you were dead
When the notices stopped in the newspaper
I knew you were dead
When I had to take my car for a service
I knew you were dead
When I had to change the light bulbs
I knew you were dead
When there were no anniversary presents
No one put petrol in my car
No one kissed me goodbye
Phoned me everyday at twelve
Brought me home the evening paper
Made the morning tea
Hugged me on the stairs
Made me laugh every day
Discussed our children
Loved Sulka ties
Biscuits and chocolates
French Burgund’s
Beef Wellington
Spanish omelettes
Brussels sprouts
Trains
Me

LET THERE BE LIGHT

And God said
Let there be light
And there was
So he decorated the heavens with a sun and some stars
He didn’t make a moon because he hadn’t invented night
And then he made a hedgehog.
This is great fun he thought and he made some deer
and an elephant and a rhino
and slipped fish into the sea and laughed
as he fitted eight tentacles onto an octopus.
Only then did he think of night and luminous moon.
And then he made a mistake, he invented man
And from his rib –
Why?
God only knows –
A woman and serpent and apples and trees of life.
Then a whole bunch of jealous and stupid creatures were born
Who destroyed the trees and hunted the animals and finally each other.
An God thought –
Although they’ve reached the heights of Genius
And the depths of depravity
I haven’t taken into consideration
That they only use six percent of their brains.
I’ll have to make a plan but i’m so tired i’m going to sleep
For three million years and when i wake up
Perhaps they will have evolved and take control of the universe.
So God yawned and turned over and when he awoke
There was nothing left –
Except night and day and the sun and the stars
And the moon and a scorched earth and an angry sea and no life –
Whatsoever.

THE COWBOY OF WARMBAD

He can tune you grief
He can tune you sat
he can run like the wind
And stalk like a kat

He would jump on his horse
Scatter all in his pad
He was fierce he was feared
The cowboy of Warmbad

Hair streaming behind
Eyes hard green and cruel
If you ever cross him
You’d be a fool

So moenie inmeng
From Karoo to Gauteng
Watch your back watch your tongue
Cause he’s slim as a slang

This man is a legend
take care, Ja, beware
The Cowboy of Warmbad
Is vieslik gevaar

And when he’s old and rides forth
From Pretoria North
They’ll still beware van nags
While he’s traveling langs

He’ll still be a danger
South Africa’s Lone Ranger
In sun drug of nat
The Cowboy of Warmbad

hannah lurie

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Biography

Hannah Lurie is a sculptor. She has had over 15 solo exhibitions (including jewellery). She has been commissioned for many public works, including the portrait busts of poet Douglas Livingstone and Professor Elizabeth Sneddon at the Elizabeth Sneddon Theatre. She works on tiny scale for jewellery to a commissioned project, last year, of two figures three metres high entitled Uxolo (Peace).
Lurie has won the Waterman Prize for poetry as well as the Adams Book Shop Prize. She was awarded the Mariette Loots Award for her book I’m too Sexy for My Hair, of which 260 000 copies have been printed so far by sponsors, and which are available at the Cancer Association and Parklands Oncology unit free of charge. The volume deals with the defeat of breast cancer.
She is Honorary Life Vice-President of the KwaZulu-Natal Society of Arts and Past National President of Soroptimist International of Great Britain & Ireland, in Durban, the biggest women’s service organisation in the world.

 

Hannah Lurie

hannah lurie
hannah lurie

Biography

Hannah Lurie is a sculptor. She has had over 15 solo exhibitions (including jewellery). She has been commissioned for many public works, including the portrait busts of poet Douglas Livingstone and Professor Elizabeth Sneddon at the Elizabeth Sneddon Theatre. She works on tiny scale for jewellery to a commissioned project, last year, of two figures three metres high entitled Uxolo (Peace).
Lurie has won the Waterman Prize for poetry as well as the Adams Book Shop Prize. She was awarded the Mariette Loots Award for her book I’m too Sexy for My Hair, of which 260 000 copies have been printed so far by sponsors, and which are available at the Cancer Association and Parklands Oncology unit free of charge. The volume deals with the defeat of breast cancer.
She is Honorary Life Vice-President of the KwaZulu-Natal Society of Arts and Past National President of Soroptimist International of Great Britain & Ireland, in Durban, the biggest women’s service organisation in the world.

 

LES CHIMERES

Enlarge poem

13 rue St Antoines, Paris

I fell like Hemingway

(The similarity ends here)

writing in the bar

at St Paul

It’s called Les Chimeres

Illusions

I’m slightly high

on vin rouge

the label says Cahors.

I only notice the cigarette ends

when he changes the ashtray

My Franprix parcels

at my feet

promise a good dinner

they come

with their ubiquitous cigarettes

their tattoos

their pony tails

their Evian printed Tshirts

their Gallic charm.

A Frenchman knows

how to use his hands

his shoulders

his fisted movements

flirtatious-

his kiss on both cheeks

his smiles with narrowed eyes

he shrugs

pouts

leaves

The carrousel

goes round and round

and round

at St Paul

Featured Poem:

NO TITLE NECESSARY / LET THERE BE LIGHT / THE COWBOY OF WARMBAD

Enlarge poem

NO TITLE NECESSARY

I knew you were dead
When the notices stopped in the newspaper
I knew you were dead
When I had to take my car for a service
I knew you were dead
When I had to change the light bulbs
I knew you were dead
When there were no anniversary presents
No one put petrol in my car
No one kissed me goodbye
Phoned me everyday at twelve
Brought me home the evening paper
Made the morning tea
Hugged me on the stairs
Made me laugh every day
Discussed our children
Loved Sulka ties
Biscuits and chocolates
French Burgund’s
Beef Wellington
Spanish omelettes
Brussels sprouts
Trains
Me

LET THERE BE LIGHT

And God said
Let there be light
And there was
So he decorated the heavens with a sun and some stars
He didn’t make a moon because he hadn’t invented night
And then he made a hedgehog.
This is great fun he thought and he made some deer
and an elephant and a rhino
and slipped fish into the sea and laughed
as he fitted eight tentacles onto an octopus.
Only then did he think of night and luminous moon.
And then he made a mistake, he invented man
And from his rib –
Why?
God only knows –
A woman and serpent and apples and trees of life.
Then a whole bunch of jealous and stupid creatures were born
Who destroyed the trees and hunted the animals and finally each other.
An God thought –
Although they’ve reached the heights of Genius
And the depths of depravity
I haven’t taken into consideration
That they only use six percent of their brains.
I’ll have to make a plan but i’m so tired i’m going to sleep
For three million years and when i wake up
Perhaps they will have evolved and take control of the universe.
So God yawned and turned over and when he awoke
There was nothing left –
Except night and day and the sun and the stars
And the moon and a scorched earth and an angry sea and no life –
Whatsoever.

THE COWBOY OF WARMBAD

He can tune you grief
He can tune you sat
he can run like the wind
And stalk like a kat

He would jump on his horse
Scatter all in his pad
He was fierce he was feared
The cowboy of Warmbad

Hair streaming behind
Eyes hard green and cruel
If you ever cross him
You’d be a fool

So moenie inmeng
From Karoo to Gauteng
Watch your back watch your tongue
Cause he’s slim as a slang

This man is a legend
take care, Ja, beware
The Cowboy of Warmbad
Is vieslik gevaar

And when he’s old and rides forth
From Pretoria North
They’ll still beware van nags
While he’s traveling langs

He’ll still be a danger
South Africa’s Lone Ranger
In sun drug of nat
The Cowboy of Warmbad

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (0)
  • Pride (0)
  • Optimism (0)
  • Anger (0)
  • Delight (1)
  • Inspiration (1)
  • Reflection (1)
  • Captivation (0)
  • Peace (0)
  • Amusement (0)
  • Sorrow (1)
  • Vigour (0)
  • Hope (0)
  • Sadness (1)
  • Fear (0)
  • Jubilation (0)

LES CHIMERES

Enlarge poem

13 rue St Antoines, Paris

I fell like Hemingway

(The similarity ends here)

writing in the bar

at St Paul

It’s called Les Chimeres

Illusions

I’m slightly high

on vin rouge

the label says Cahors.

I only notice the cigarette ends

when he changes the ashtray

My Franprix parcels

at my feet

promise a good dinner

they come

with their ubiquitous cigarettes

their tattoos

their pony tails

their Evian printed Tshirts

their Gallic charm.

A Frenchman knows

how to use his hands

his shoulders

his fisted movements

flirtatious-

his kiss on both cheeks

his smiles with narrowed eyes

he shrugs

pouts

leaves

The carrousel

goes round and round

and round

at St Paul

Comments

Your email address will not be published.