christine-ueri - Hello Poetry

welcome, autmn wind, fiercly blowing out of time - I gather the leaves

0

Mar 7

Mar 7, 2026 at 11:40 PM UTC

haiku 55

welcome, autmn wind, fiercly blowing out of time - I gather the leaves

3

your bitter-sweet scent drifting in through the window -- a kamikaze blossom

0

Mar 6

Mar 6, 2026 at 12:39 PM UTC

haiku 54

your bitter-sweet scent drifting in through the window -- a kamikaze blossom

3

It's still dark outside when I wake up every morning, five a.m. The light in the kitchen is always on though - a beacon to scurry home to late night after church meetings or in the wee hours after serving customers drinks and dinner. I smack a cockroach - take the small, black, non-stick frying pan off its nail in the wall, and I wonder if the new moon ever sets like this against the milkyway... Gaseous spikes spring up the sides of the concave dome, as I **** in my breath and hold it, I turn down the heat, swirl in a tiny bit of oil... And I crack the eggs - split them open - two yolks slipping into a sea of glossy albumen, drifting on tectonic Teflon - anointed. I toss out the eggshells, usher in a dash or two of milk - and I scramble everything, break it all open, beat it up, air it fluffy - pale-yellow and slightly sulphurous... I listen for when you turn off the shower, and I wonder: will it rain today? I hear your brother snore up thunder, but, will it rain today? You shut off the water. I arrange two slices of toast on a white platter spread with mashed and mutated sunflowers - equal mounds of xanthous-cumulus topping each other. And I lay it all before you. God forbid I eat before the the sun rises. *******************

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Jul 18, 2025

Jul 18, 2025 at 1:04 PM UTC

Devouring Mother

It's still dark outside when I wake up every morning, five a.m. The light in the kitchen is always on though - a beacon to scurry home to late night after church meetings or in the wee hours after serving customers drinks and dinner. I smack a cockroach - take the small, black, non-stick frying pan off its nail in the wall, and I wonder if the new moon ever sets like this against the milkyway... Gaseous spikes spring up the sides of the concave dome, as I **** in my breath and hold it, I turn down the heat, swirl in a tiny bit of oil... And I crack the eggs - split them open - two yolks slipping into a sea of glossy albumen, drifting on tectonic Teflon - anointed. I toss out the eggshells, usher in a dash or two of milk - and I scramble everything, break it all open, beat it up, air it fluffy - pale-yellow and slightly sulphurous... I listen for when you turn off the shower, and I wonder: will it rain today? I hear your brother snore up thunder, but, will it rain today? You shut off the water. I arrange two slices of toast on a white platter spread with mashed and mutated sunflowers - equal mounds of xanthous-cumulus topping each other. And I lay it all before you. God forbid I eat before the the sun rises. *******************

37

I am a leaf, shed, homeless, drifting in through a hole in the carpentry -- a skeleton among skeleton relatives, dusting the shuffle-worn surface of our mother's planked-out chest.

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Jul 29, 2016

Jul 29, 2016 at 1:18 PM UTC

Trespasser

I am a leaf, shed, homeless, drifting in through a hole in the carpentry -- a skeleton among skeleton relatives, dusting the shuffle-worn surface of our mother's planked-out chest.

5

this palate is an anvil this tongue a hammer forging the edges of words reversed

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Jul 29, 2016

Jul 29, 2016 at 1:12 PM UTC

Chainmail

this palate is an anvil this tongue a hammer forging the edges of words reversed

4

(rough translation) debt debt debtor tonight it howls in tumbleweed tongues beaten about and windblown over a barren, over-there road a dust-tongue stretches licking skeletons all the way to feet of the silver hills that lie in the moon of the Little Karoo debt debt debt in vein Mother is a stranger just standing there and sipping tea in another woman’s blue kitchen debt debt debt in her all staring at the cracks reflecting on the windowpane the fragile earth’s dismembered but the rain will come my child the rain will come prophesy the rust-red clouds all bellowing in the wind Mother will stand unequivocal as untamed buffalo grass -- rooted and valid

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Jul 13, 2016

Jul 13, 2016 at 12:59 AM UTC

DROUGHT IN MY MOTHER TONGUE

(rough translation) debt debt debtor tonight it howls in tumbleweed tongues beaten about and windblown over a barren, over-there road a dust-tongue stretches licking skeletons all the way to feet of the silver hills that lie in the moon of the Little Karoo debt debt debt in vein Mother is a stranger just standing there and sipping tea in another woman’s blue kitchen debt debt debt in her all staring at the cracks reflecting on the windowpane the fragile earth’s dismembered but the rain will come my child the rain will come prophesy the rust-red clouds all bellowing in the wind Mother will stand unequivocal as untamed buffalo grass -- rooted and valid

35

skuld skuld skuldenaar dit suis vanaand in tolbos tale rond-en-wind-ge-foeter oor ‘n dor doer pad ‘n uitgestrekte stoftong lek geraamtes tot aan die silwer koppies in die Klein Karoo se maan skuld skuld skuld–in–aar is Ma ‘n vreemdeling wat staan en tee drink in ‘n ander vrou se blou kombuis skuld skuld skuld–in–haar al starend na die krake weerspieël die vensterglas ‘n aarde broos verbrokkel maar die reën sal kom my kind die reën sal kom profeteer die roes–rooi wolke al loeiend in die wind sal Ma staan onmiskenbaar soos ongetemde buffelsgras gewortel en gegrond

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Jul 12, 2016

Jul 12, 2016 at 6:22 AM UTC

DROOGTE IN MY MOEDERTAAL

skuld skuld skuldenaar dit suis vanaand in tolbos tale rond-en-wind-ge-foeter oor ‘n dor doer pad ‘n uitgestrekte stoftong lek geraamtes tot aan die silwer koppies in die Klein Karoo se maan skuld skuld skuld–in–aar is Ma ‘n vreemdeling wat staan en tee drink in ‘n ander vrou se blou kombuis skuld skuld skuld–in–haar al starend na die krake weerspieël die vensterglas ‘n aarde broos verbrokkel maar die reën sal kom my kind die reën sal kom profeteer die roes–rooi wolke al loeiend in die wind sal Ma staan onmiskenbaar soos ongetemde buffelsgras gewortel en gegrond

35

we are the ancient ones rooted in the earth heads rustling in the sky moss growing on our trunks on our limbs conductors of our pulse over this distance this faraway closeness and should they fell you I shall feed you honey from our underground network should you not sprout again I shall build a hive in your trunk buzzing with life and should the hive desert you leave you petrified I shall unfurl beneath you cradling your vintage pages

0

Apr 26, 2016

Apr 26, 2016 at 7:36 PM UTC

Untitled

we are the ancient ones rooted in the earth heads rustling in the sky moss growing on our trunks on our limbs conductors of our pulse over this distance this faraway closeness and should they fell you I shall feed you honey from our underground network should you not sprout again I shall build a hive in your trunk buzzing with life and should the hive desert you leave you petrified I shall unfurl beneath you cradling your vintage pages

19

The violence of a beautiful soul -- staggering

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Apr 18, 2016

Apr 18, 2016 at 4:30 PM UTC

Turbulence