A Little Bit Of Sunshine

  Ingredients  two parts water one part coffee lump of sugar tablespoon of honey a trickle of hope a drop of sunshine  Directions brew gently I did everything right.  I coloured inside the lines.  I followed the recipe And yet,  Try as I might There's always an alarming amount of bitterness in my cup.  Drink up , they tell me,  there is still warmth to be found...  And bitter is better than empty.  Still I pour of myself,  and every ingredient on the shelf Just to taste something sweet.  Refill, Reheat, Repeat 

My world is so tiny Its borders close in on me  with a dense population of three I do the same thing every day  and the next day, and the next week.  As for currency, why, I don't have two pennies  to rub together.  All debts are settled in poetry. As for travel, we don't go anywhere  (with our feet)  We much prefer to read.  There are few sights to see,  Just the ocean and sun-kissed fruit  in the field...  Oh but my world is beautiful.  I indulge in one simple pleasure a day ... reveling in the beauty of the sky.  Though I am often buried in the dust My shoes caked with mud.  At least I have this view Leaving becomes more inconceivable by the day, I regret. But you are welcome to stay.  You'll love what I've done with the place: ... a library in the third wing and the koi fish pond is new...

Forecast: chilling breeze "Your words are so refreshing" , she's saying to me.  Refreshing?  It takes me a minute to sink in before I whisper, "It's funny, they never leave that way"  Instead they storm off in a huff Of tears and dust slamming the door off of its hinges.  Or wander away,  dazed and confused  with nowhere else to go.  But I see they've found a home in you.  These aren't the words I kissed goodbye,  sent packing in the night.  Somewhere in their fearful journey,  across mountain and valley  They were washed clean.  And arrived in your hands fresh and safe to drink.  It is a wonder they made it all this way,  a kind of relief  Knowing there are traces of me uncaged, uninhibited...  Soaring, flying free.  Infinite in the ways I am limited, to dream, to reach, to seek. 

Questions, unending. What do you want from me... would you like that in a size medium or large? Where do I go next?  What's wrong with me?  Why did they leave?  What's even the point?   What's even the point?   What's even the point? What's even the point?   What's even the point? Answers, still pending.

  14 February 1966 Dear L  This is the last and final letter  you'll ever get from me.  I never knew paper  could be so heavy.  I spent hours trying to write  something you'll never forget That keeps you up at night Drowning in regret.  But I tire of such frivolities Dear L Soon I will be eighteen and I'll have to leave my childish ways behind So...will you do me a kindness?  I just want you to be happy. I get it, the world is large and beautiful.  Go out and live your life Don't worry about me I'll be just fine, you'll see. Right as rain, as they say. It's gonna be okay, you'll see.  Sincerely, S Go to : Imaginary Pen Pal Pt 1 Imaginary Pen Pal Pt 2

Forecast: the first tendrils of light at daybreak  Where is the monster I made out of you? The slimy shadows I cast on you...  I've built you up so much in my head The proverbial monster under my bed.  A terrifying menace A salivating savage I have the bite marks to prove it.  I've spent so long running,  escaping your breath on my neck Finally you've caught up to me With dazzling smile and teeth,  not fangs Instead of sharp talons, perfectly manicured hands The booming roar I waited for,  quelled by soothing voice It's funny, this frightens me more I am no longer sure who I am fighting and what for The big, bad evil that haunted me all those nights Soft , human, just like me You bleed just as I bleed You've got the scars to prove it.  And how I want you to bleed.  To sink my teeth  where it hurts most To bring you to your knees in an heroic clash  between good and evil  But here there are no heroes or fiends Just two human beings No less no

Order Receipt This was a fun little piece I  imagined scribbling  at the back of a receipt.  This is Naledi reporting to you live from my backyard and yes, it is still dark here.  But always, always is a sliver of hope to hold on until sunrise.  Some days it is harder to find than others.  In which case, S pecial Delivery!

"I tell ya what Sam, I think you're plenty  inspirational when you're not trying to be..."  The past few weeks I've struggled to share a poem I wrote. Over and over again my hand hovered over the send button and I talked myself out of it.  It's not pretty, or flattering in any light.  And even though I don't completely believe it, there must be a little part of me that does.  You know, the part that wrote it... But somehow I got it into my head that I was meant to inspire others with my words.  But it feels like a lie, the need to present myself as well-adjusted all the time. I think about the nights I soaked my pillow and when I was all out of cry, I'd write.  Nothing pretty, nothing that made you smile.  Pain wrung me dry, but it also inspired me.  I reckon you need this too, my personal broken. Unsure, uncertain, insecure, scared out of my mind, lonely...so very lonely, weak, disappointed.   A hand to squeeze in the dark if I couldn't lift us ou

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