More: Literature
Marilyn Monroe: A cuckoo hatchling pushing eggs outside of its nest
They took
photographs of you. Might as well been from dawn to dark photographs. In
pictures, in films, the light certainly never left your eyes. Your...
There are two kinds of lovers
Before 39
I think of
my wife Diana. Diana the paramedic with the reading hands, the quiet smile that
plays on her lips while she eats my...
The life and philosophy of the poets Dennis Brutus and Sappho
Life is
like that. Fixing pain is the inert language of blood. All of life is a tree.
There is a process to it. The possession,...
“Blooming Cactus”: Star signs, chapters of thanksgiving and prophecy from a gifted pen
It is
raining in Port Elizabeth as I write this. The room is cold and has a
pond life of its own. If I am not...
The science of winter: Bessie Head, feminist daughter of the earth, writer and philosopher
With her
lotus feet. Milk, and rain clouds gathering is a vision in her indelible
psyche. She is barefoot sowed to the shoreline in Port Elizabeth....
Why I wrote The Scholarship Girl
For a long
time I thought my writing was primitive. In the sense that I was not gaining the
recognition that I wanted (which every writer...
You, 16-year-old with the sad eyes
I think of
you all the time, with love, with respect, with admiration. Why am I so sad? I
lost the love my life again. It...
The Chosen Family from Church to Earth
Guess at
the intensity behind my words. ‘Give me a place to stand,’ said Archimedes,
‘and I will move the world.’ After all that is said...
The Secret Orchard
She wants
diamonds, to live in a mansion (she thinks that’s the perfect life), to be the
hostess of parties, to run her pale king’s life....
Beauty awakens
There is my
reflection in the window. She dances. She dances. She dances. Look at me,
Master. I am wearing my dancing shoes. I am dancing....