Wesley Roodt

I am that strangest of anomalies – a matric boy in a prestigious all-boys school who is not interested in playing rugby. I gave it a bash a few years ago, but after my first grazed elbow (I still have nightmares about it now) I quickly realised that it wasn’t the sport for me. In fact, I gave up on sport entirely and focused all my energy on the exceptionally macho art of writing, and not just essays and short stories, but poems! Poems, for heaven’s sake! And dare I say it, I’ve never enjoyed anything more.

So, now, instead of sweating and grunting and mauling, I spend my afternoons writing about anything and everything; and every now and again I write about something else.

Through a haze of menthol

Wesley Roodt 2013-08-27 "Through a haze of menthol-infused
Cigarette smoke
I see his head bobbing back and forth
With the basic rhythms
Of the music in his mind"


Early evening

Wesley Roodt 2013-08-06 "Early evening and the great, glowing globe
Is half hidden beneath the horizon.
No orange array salutes its passing,
Only the quiet coo of pigeons
And the slow pitter-patter
Of garden irrigation."


The fair

Wesley Roodt 2013-07-31

"South Africa’s favourite fairground attraction
Is ninety-five years old