Fiction and prose by established and emerging authors
Muti waterNew writing 2015-05-06
"Every Monday morning she came walking up the dirt road from the black township, wearing her brightly coloured Basotho blanket around her shoulders and her orange-and-black headscarf."
The we field2014-09-17 The microbus goes again, and she is alone when she trudges along the mud-smeared path to the front door of the long building, a forty-year-old woman in a long brown skirt, long red pullover, and a woollen cap with flaps hanging over her ears.
Ons Klyntji - A call for contributions2014-05-13 Herewith a call for contributions of all creed, colour and cadence (and cadenza) toward a new edition of Ons Klyntji.
Lamb (five haiku)2014-04-17 Brilliant inner sea –
His cry glides across the moon.
This mother tongue comforts me.
Morning stage2014-04-17 The coach stopping,
the dust settling,
the dew evaporating
from the cropped verge
at the roadside.
Nadia2014-04-08 Nadia could not tell time yet. It was the stillness of the night that told her that it was already past midnight, to her a magical line between today and tomorrow. She was born at this hour, her mother always said. She was called Nadia because the stillness of the hour brought hope that the morning was approaching.
Cry, South Africa2014-04-08 "The day I saw him on television
I knew where the leaves of democracy had fallen."
Om teen clichés te stry, te swerf en daarmee te groet2014-04-02
Die laaste sinne van my MA-skripsie wag om geskryf te word. Ek moet dus groet. Dit was groot pret en baie insiggewend om julle skryfwerk te begelei. Dit was heerlik om te sien dat daar soveel aspirantskrywers in Afrikaans en Engels skryf en stelselmatig leer om meer oorspronklik te kyk, dieper te dink en meer te lees.
Oyster2014-04-01 "The fisherman looks down to see an oyster in his net
that seems to say “Come for me. When will you come for me Saviour?”
I surrender! I climb into the river of silk
hiding the bad talent of a needle and dignified flowering bone."
"In Camden they brought
flowers, fags, and vodka with
a pomegranate blend
like a bludy munkey"
Japan2014-03-26 "Their words are as old as a telescope, fossils, totem poles,
tribes, trees, Darwinism, the touch of the hands
of my paternal grandmother, antiques,
the coelacanth, the dishes that are waiting
for me in the sink, the footprint of childhood
On the beach sucking a waterfall of sea."
The Anatomy of a Fall2014-03-26 This fall
Is a graceless arc, a jump into the darkness
SQL setting for a party2014-03-04
CREATE TABLE “for a memorable party”
"An old naked man you are.
Epsom's star bearing humbling
Entries open for third SCrIBE Scriptwriting Competition2014-02-14 Entries open on 1 March, closing date for applications is 31 July and the top five scripts will be selected for a week-long staged reading in October, with the opportunity for discussion and feedback from the public and members of the theatre industry.
Ode to the internet2014-02-04 "Its insubstantial web cocoons the globe,
in threads of gossamer. It carries
my messages of love across the seas,"
Hide and seek2014-02-04
"Hiding without a soul
leaving not a breadcrumb
typing as a dumb
amplifying its thoughts
mostly on politics, religion and its Gods
The hiding troll with no soul"
"She looked up, nightly
She looked through the crystal stars
Those gossiping stars
Not giving them any attention
She looked past them, seeing only her pain
The loud silence2014-01-28
"An unexpressed, swallowed roar
The confluence of a rushing water flow
"I crouch next to her. It smells like moss and lemon verbena. I run my finger over the lemon man. He has freckles from the dust."