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Isaace Jan 8
The evenings rang true at a time when we would engage in snooker or chess in the lounge— late into the night— waiting for daybreak to shine through.

On the weekends we would gather and watch the cricket begin: shirts versus skins on Emerald Green. Men versus women. The mens’ ******* seemed to ripple in the brisk weekend air.

Mid-morning was reserved for artistic endeavours— honing our artistic sensibilities. A decidely symbolistic manner of preparition, in which we would prepare. We would recite lines and manifest Shakespeare there, at the cusp of Emerald Green.
Zywa Oct 2023
The house has new sounds,

a harmony: languages --

dance, and skin colours.
"Begging to Be Black" (2009, Antjie Krog), her birthday on October 23rd, 1992

Collection "SoulSenseSun"
Anais Vionet Sep 2023
Reading some homework
The day seems like artwork
Has the sky ever been so blue

Three guys toss a frisbee
perilously near me
shirtless boys silhouetted in turquoise

We’ve got our shades on
We pretend not to watch em’
But we know they’re putting on a show.

We’ve got fold up recliners
and we set a timer
to move to the shade in a minute or two

But the sun seems distracted
cooler and less radioactive
dozens of students are out on the quad

The trees aren’t just standing
the breeze has them dancing
to ‘Blood in the Cut’, a song by ‘K.Flay’

On this cool, near-fall holiday
We’ll while our day away
each of us claiming a chance to relax

Now that we’re juniors, we know the facts
We get that there’s still a lot of reading to do
but we know, we can have a little fun too.
What else would you expect us to do?
Zywa Aug 2023
Happiness: the joy

of the quiet awareness --

of your existence.
Autobiographical notes "Les rêveries du promeneur solitaire" ("Reveries of the Solitary Walker", 1776, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, published posthumously in 1778), chapter "Cinquième promenade" ("Fifth walk")

Collection "Inmost [1]"
Zywa Jan 2020
You are so soft and delicate
your skin in my hand
your full light weight
your warm longing

for the ecstasy of when
your bronze body
was immortal in Verona
and I, kneeling for you

between your legs, dissolved
in love. Slowly
after the fast moving
my hands stroked the scent

smoothly out over you and defenceless
I lay down next to you
on the bed in the quiet room
in the centre of the city

with the angular merlons
The evening brings coolness
while I'm looking at you
looking at you
Collection "Take a picture, now"
Zywa Dec 2022
The birds sing for me,

yes, they like me, and the hemp --

seeds next to my chair.
Matthew 6:26  Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them.

"Three Little Birds" (1977, Bob Marley & The Wailers)

Collection "SoulSenseSun"
Zywa Nov 2022
Collecting little

bits of happiness: fresh bread --

and filling the bath.
Letter 16, to John L, in the late 70s ("A pleasant postumity: letters 1965-1997", 2004, Herman de Coninck)

Collection "Shortages"
Zywa Oct 2022
After making love

I do feel just enough cold --

to feel that I'm strong.
"Winterochtend" ("Winter morning", 1975, Herman de Coninck) --- Collection "Shortages"
Zywa Oct 2022
*** in the morning

is nice, before the duties --

we may for a while.
"Winterochtend" ("Winter morning", 1975, Herman de Coninck) --- Collection "Shortages"
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