Poems Rethabile Likes

The Applicant by Sylvia Plath The Applicant First, are you our sort of a person? Do you wear A glass eye, false teeth or a crutch, A brace or a hook, Rubber breasts or a rubber crotch, Stitches to show something’s missing? No, no? Then How can we give you a thing? Stop crying. Open your hand. Empty? Empty. Here is a hand To fill it and willing To bring teacups and roll away headaches And do whatever you tell it. Will you marry it? It is guaranteed To thumb shut your eyes at the end And dissolve of sorrow. We make new stock from the salt. I notice you are stark naked. How about this suit— Black and stiff, but not a bad fit. Will you marry it? It is waterproof, shatterproof, proof Against fire and bombs through the roof. Believe me, they’ll bury you in it. Now your head, excuse me, is empty. I have the ticket for that. Come here...

White canes bend at two places, like fingers by Rethabile Masilo White canes bend at two places, like fingers Cities through fingertips inebriate me. Everywhere I travel lies this pavement defining the town with a kerb that may or may not curve to where I go. Patient, I like to try and see it with my cane, slightly slanted in the hand. Not a stick, a pen I use to trace my life again as I walk and tap or touch stone or brick or granite at my feet. No need to prove God or splendour. If you don’t listen well to night you may miss the bat that moves with rubber wing, and flickers round walls in a feeding frenzy. For the glory of everything belongs truly to the night, which holds day as dead retinas carry light, to watch life with previous sight. Poet: Rethabile Masilo Source: @Flash Frontier Books: @AbeBook...

If This Life Is All We Have by Dennis Brutus If This Life Is All We Have if in fact it is all we shall know as indeed may be most probable and if, as is reasonably certain we shall have no more on earth then it is wrong to lament — wrong to wish for the end of life wrong to feel one must drag somehow through and surely one must do whatever one can fill each day with as much as can be done while we live, we must fill each day with living and do each day as much as we can of what seems to us worthwhile; all that is good, as we understand it all that stirs us with a sense of joy and this we must do each day as much as we can while we are living since this may be the only life and certainly the only one we shall know here it is sensible to make it full and alive and rich and satisfying and filled with all that seems good t...