My Girl

I have a girl,
Her name is Pearl.

She's not so cool,
but not a fool.

She's not so bright,
but she sees the light.

She's so cute
and I'm so rude

I am her MISTER, but she's my SISTER!

By: Conray Jayson Saal

Evelyn Archery   earchery2@ampnet.co.za
Sent: Friday, August 29, 2003
My poem is called Sweet love. I have just received an award from the International Society of Poet's in Washington D.C for Outstanding Achievement in International Poetry and a merit award as well.

Sweet Love

You capture every being in your web
fulfilling life, maximising
anxiously, pursuing the innermost depths of man
the universe submits willingly to you
reluctantly, resisting to tragically escape
The magnificent strength of your threads

Erupting scorching sensations
spreading rapidly, searching like a gentle stream
seating yourself in the bosom of man,
surviving miraculously in Antarctica
proudly embracing the amazon
fondly,securing the mind,honouring the purpose of our existence

Love, sweet love, you are the spring embedded in our hearts

Evelyn Archery
Copyright ©2003 Evelyn Archery

Van Bondels tot Bagasie

vir Yusuf Rajah*, handelaar van sakke:
'n gedig wat my bondel in 'n leersak moes orden

verseker jy 'n koninklike reis,
Yusuf Rajah?
'n reis wat strek van gees
tot gees en kleurvol só
jou naam sal dra:

verpak jou drome in 'n sak
doen aan by adel en vertoef
by dié wat suiwerheid behoef
verskenk dan vak vir vak
dít wat jy waarlik glo ...
vergeet nie om jou pyn
óók oop te rits
en mee te deel

want heersers weet dat seerkry
veel van vreugde leer
vertrek dan verder op jou tog,
Yusuf Rajah

verlig jou en jou medemens se lot
deur stylvol hierdie aardse las
te dra ...
verseker jy 'n Vredige verblyf, Yusuf Rajah?
'n tuiskoms wat van mens
tot mens die struikel op die Tog
vergewe en verdra ...?
*Josef die Koninklike

Sandy Immelman
sandy@bates141  Sent: Tuesday, January 22, 2002

In Therapy

It was a time for taking note -
Or for being noted (she took the notes).
Or was it a time for taking stock?
In which case - would she take the stock?
Could I hand it over?
Was it even mine to give ... or take?

It was also a time of sharing -
Except it was mainly mine to share,
And hers to care (she banks the notes).
The delicate balance of my ins and outs,
(my sign being the scales - always weighed,
usually weighty) ...

Could letting some of what was in, out
Leave me light enough? (She checks her notes.)
Could a load lose its weight in the telling?
Or does it gather its weight by being aired?
I guess it's all in the balance ...

For Margot
By Sandy Immelman Sept 2001

Call me Mary

How pale she lies,
Her resistance at an end.
Waiting now with eternal patience
Her secrets to extend.

His touch is tender
And tentatively he begins
She looks so pure, so childlike
Too young to be here with him.

Softly he explores her body
Noting every mark
Her life on the streets is apparent
Her destiny in the dark.

How sad, he thinks under harsh lights,
And turns to choose a blade
That violent death has bestowed on her
Importance that life never gave.

Springtime

I noticed - when was it, and why?
That Springtime only comes with age.
The abundance, the fertile flamboyance
An unseen life delivered in another room.
It unfurled around me
And announced it's green arrival in silent notes
To ears too young to hear.

Now it seems the air aches with the
Desire to send its fresh, green message full.
To widen my eyes and captivate me,
To distract me with its daily bouquet
That once noticed is astoundingly everywhere;
And an awareness that I can softly bring
To those once sprung from me.

Sandy Immelman (23 March 2000)

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