Poems don't die

It is now nearly six years since I published my third collection of poetry. For many reasons, I decided to self-publish. It was a humble (VERY humble) publication. With the help of my friend and cousin Elize we printed and bound twelve exclusive copies and distributed them with love amongst selected family and friends.

One of the copies was supposed to have been for my artist mother, my mentor and greatest source of inspiration. It was not to be. Two weeks after I had finished the manuscript, while I had not yet shown it to anyone, while I was still contemplating how to publish it, my mother unexpectedly passed away. When I reread the poems, it was as if they had been written after her death, eerily predictive.

With the advance of technology and my gradual education in the field of ebooks (thanks to a wonderful course by the Queensland Writers Centre), I am currently converting the original manuscript to ebook format. I hope to have this available on Kobo and Amazon within the next few weeks.

The following poem from the collection was inspired by one of a series of three paintings by my mother called Death is a lovely blue flower. I used it in the cover design of the book. It has since been translated and included in the anthology of translated Afrikaans poems published by Protea, in a burning sea (2014).

mooi blou blom

vanoggend bibberende gebede:
 
somers oninhaalbaar verby
ononderbroke blou soos donderweer
verhef bo daknokke, bo bome van eenderse vere
geen ontkenning van die vlug nie

die dood is ’n hoë C
houtkapper wat sketter
se onverskrokke aria deur die leë lug
’n sonkol gesplits deur spieëls
brokkelende verbygang

die dood is ’n mooi blou blom
van onverwylde woordloosheid
die tong sterf dadelik af
en stilte land soos vlinders
op blou kelkblare

die dood is ’n afdwaalwoord
wat koggel in ’n kelk van kleure
in spieëls onspelbaar verwring
en jy vermoed
verlossing is verloorbaar ver

’n blom lê buite

by die buitedeur verwilderde voëls
uit bome verdwaal


lovely blue flower

this morning trembling prayers:

summers irretrievably past
uninterrupted blue like thundery weather
above roof ridges, trees of similar feather
no denial of flight

death is a high C
clamorous woodpecker’s
fearless aria in the empty air
a spot of sun splintered by mirrors
crumbling evanescence

death is a lovely blue flower
of immediate wordlessness
the tongue dies instantly
and silence settles like a butterfly
on blue calyxes

death is a word gone astray
that mocks in a calyx of colours
in mirrors indefinably distorted
and you suspect
release is as far as loss can be

outside a flower lies

near the door birds frightened from trees
have lost their way.

(translated by Charl J.F. Cilliers)