Poems Rethabile Likes

Rustlers at Bethlehem Farm by Harry Owen | Poems Rethabile Likes Rustlers at Bethlehem Farm by Harry Owen If the boundary here above Bethlehem is meant to keep out intruders, it isn't working. Having wandered away from the fence line, we scramble up next to a clicking stream within a coarse stumble of boulders, a dry mulch of grasses and brush. Every few steps we must stop and listen. The rustlers are here already, scraping invisibly, shuffling about their own avian, reptilian, insect business. Under, through. Over, between. No problem. This scribbling stream, too, is a rustler— fluent, yes, but no respecte...

Eve and Adam II by Rethabile Masilo | Poems Rethabile Likes Eve and Adam II by Rethabile Masilo They do not want to say that this is why it’s forbidden to go to the centre and taste the fruit, though they know it must be the reason. That fruit is good, and eating it will make them equals of god. So they roam up and down the garden like children, not daring to look at their genitals. Adam’s tuber dangling between his thighs and swinging like a hose as he walks, or runs to tackle Eve without looking at her burning bush, as she dashes between lines of trees with her breasts bouncing. Then they go to the escarpment to roll down a slope before going up to...

Judas and the Sanhedrin by Rethabile Masilo | Poems Rethabile Likes Judas and the Sanhedrin by Rethabile Masilo Did Judas kiss Jesus as they say just to betray him? The Pharisees and Romans knew not who Jesus was, so when evening approached and they were sick and tired of that bloke who drew multitudes to himself, and unto whom the people of Galilee were attracted, they sent a message to Judas and promised him cash if he could point out the son of man to them. Thirty gleaming shekels; and they asked their messenger to be sure to dangle the bag and jangle the coins before his eyes. Judas was fucked, for he liked money, and although when alone away from the troupe he would sometimes visit the local amusement scene, he had a good heart. The guy found him drinking at a bar, ...

Telephone Conversation by Wole Soyinka | Poems Rethabile Likes Telephone Conversation by Wole Soyinka The price seemed reasonable, location Indifferent. The landlady swore she lived Off premises. Nothing remained But self-confession. "Madam", I warned, "I hate a wasted journey—I am African." Silence. Silenced transmission of Pressurized good-breeding. Voice, when it came, Lipstick coated, long gold rolled Cigarette-holder pipped. Caught I was, foully. "HOW DARK?"… I had not misheard. …"ARE YOU LIGHT OR VERY DARK?" Button B. Button A. Stench Of rancid breath of public hide-and-speak. ...

Evening Hawk by Robert Penn Warren | Poems Rethabile Likes Evening Hawk by Robert Penn Warren From plane of light to plane, wings dipping through Geometries and orchids that the sunset builds, Out of the peak's black angularity of shadow, riding The last tumultuous avalanche of Light above pines and the guttural gorge, The hawk comes. His wing Scythes down another day, his motion Is that of the honed steel-edge, we hear The crashless fall of stalks of Time. The head of each stalk is heavy with the gold of our error. Look! Look! he is climbing the last light Who knows neither Time nor err...