This box, this blockThese four walls trapping my fingersAround this penThis paper, dull and blankThis space between ink and pageThis cage: my imaginationThis voice: a whisper, mumbling ideasThe knowledge behind barsThis prison I feel but cannot expressThis ache in need of reliefThis scream subdued by preoccupied handsThis stage of in-betweenThis no-man’s-land I’m inThis wish toContinue reading “Writer’s Block”
Author Archives: Jana
The Bird In The Tree
I came to a stop near a bird in a tree.She was pecking the bark for a bug.I called her Estelle, God only knows whyFor she’ll have the same fate as her slug. I arrived at the gate where a pig snorted at me.He was rolling in a splash of mud.Just when a lonely tearContinue reading “The Bird In The Tree”
I’m Too Tired
I’m too tired to write a poem.My eyelids are sinkers fixed to a linetossed into a subconscious sea where I’ll hook the remnant of lastnight’s dream. I was in a maze with theship’s lull and everyone I’d ever loved wasn’t there. A Ferris wheel flung meoverboard into the bottomless deep ofwaking up to the smellContinue reading “I’m Too Tired”
There’s Always A But
There was a crack in the earth just thenwhen you opened your lipsto tell me the truth for once. You’ve been hiding behind someoneI recognize, but don’t recall meeting.A dusty cranium: cobwebs need sweeping. I decompress with ice clinking in a glassof wine on my knee,making kaleidoscope eyes at the ants crawling behind the greenery.SomethingContinue reading “There’s Always A But”
The Golden Hour
The day is on its back, but not quite asleep just yet.A silk net catches the last raysAs an eight-legged ick nears its winged prisonerAnd beaks above chatter their goodbyes for now.A crisp air hugs the horizon closerAs the sun’s hair falls gently goldenOn her rocky shoulders, preparing for hypnosis. A slither of moon escapesContinue reading “The Golden Hour”
If You’ve Got A Coin
If you’ve got a coin you might carelesslytoss it in the cup holder without a cupto give to a humble guy who washes your windscreenat the petrol station.Or you might slip it into the tight back pocketof a new pair of jeans to listen to it clink in rotationwhen you forget to take it outContinue reading “If You’ve Got A Coin”
When I Write
There’s no meadow I look out onand think: that there, I want to explore!But not with my feet, no ratherwith a mess of lines ink-spilt ona clear sea of white paper.There’s not a time or place I visit in my mindthinking I need to escape thisreality. No, I simply slip through a hole in thoughtandContinue reading “When I Write”
Out Of Breath
The sun bakes sweat on my skinwhere your imprint lays dormant.My breath is short and ticksin my chest: a rhythmout of balance with my feet. I close mine to meet with your eyes.A vision of your mouth without a smileunearths the darkness hidden underthe soft coating of a tongue,pulsing in time when we kiss again.Continue reading “Out Of Breath”
Walking Home
Around me, there is only dark brown and green. I widen my eyes to find more light, but the stars are behind grey masses in the sky. There is only a familiar sound, telling me to follow it slowly. It crunches beneath my shoes. It crackles when I find larger leaves and my foot bucklesContinue reading “Walking Home”
Grandmother
A liberal take on pantoum She reached out an arm to gift me a pearas I sat cross-legged, my hands turned to my back.Her hair wasn’t yellow, but some would sayit was the only shade a rainbow might lack. As I sat cross-legged, throwing my hand towards her gifther nose crinkled at the bridge inContinue reading “Grandmother”
My Garden
There are roosluise crawling out of the centres of my almost mature rosebuds. They scurry in and out as if taunting me in a triumphant dance. I haven’t yet had the courage to tell Adriaan there won’t be roses in the house this month. I’m going to have to cut all of them down toContinue reading “My Garden”
Making Hate
Let me put on a show for you. Let me show you my soul so you can show me yours.Let me light your fire so you can burn your fingertips. “I don’t love you anymore,” she whispered as soon as she was sure he was sleeping, before turning her bedside lamp out and curling up nextContinue reading “Making Hate”
5 Things I Wish I Knew When I Was A Jr. Copywriter
My skills are constantly evolving as I mature and progress in my career, but there are certain things I wish I knew back when I was a Jr. Copywriter. Here are five of them. 1. Being clever is not always cute Every writer gets that tingly feeling when they’ve coined a new metaphor or writtenContinue reading “5 Things I Wish I Knew When I Was A Jr. Copywriter”
Words & Things 