wat issit met ons?..

wat issit met ons

wat soos sei-soene

bly opduik…

soos bleshoenders

wat onderwater vir


en ploebs! weer

iewers anders

uit die spieëlvlak loer

wat issit met ons

da tons droom en leef

so saam bly weef

so dubbel leef

aanmekaar bly kleef…

wat issit met ons

wat soos eendedons

bly val en windskep

nooit landingsplek kry nie…

wat issit met ons

dat daar nooit

vergeet word,


afgesterf word nie…

wat issit met ons

dat ek en jy

soos middernagink

saans in nagvlug

see-en-lug eenword

maar more weer

met ‘n glasskoen

sonder maat sit?…



I feel you

i feel you

when a sad song

pipes up in a café

its lyrics plays

my wishlist

like a technicolor day:

we wander

finding joy

in holding hands,

through woods,

across sandy beaches…

we unfold like

the pages of a book,

our fragile hearts

fly above us,

up up up into

the promise of

the blue blue skies…

i feel you

when Autumn comes

to shower us

with hues of warmth,

reflecting the light

i remember

it taking its hold

in your eyes,

mimicking the lingering flames

that would burst

into a roaring fire,

whenever you smile

crossed mine…

i feel you

when a tiny sugarbird

daintily hovers

above a sweet honeysuckle,

its little wings working

to stay poised,

its beak as hungry

for the sweetness,

as our mouths were

that day you kissed me…

i feel you

everyday in every way:

sometimes you flit

across my sky,

or croon on my radio


you just move

my very heart…-VM’16-


Silence falls

there comes a silence

that has nothing left to say…

all has been revealed

about who you are

and who you’re not

it falls slowly

from the sky

intercepts all your words

steals your breath away

and bundles it

as if a sheet


on a freshly made bed…

it buries

what you thought to say

it goes and lies down

without talking back

as if someone

has covered your mouth

with their hand

your tongue lolls powerlessly

in your mouth

silence has a big nothing

to disclose

it wrenches a life from you

that bears no new blossoms

carries no fruit

or bread…

it falls

like pouring rain

and lets everything inside you

droop with heaviness…

it becomes a silence

that pierces the air

speaks wordlessly

of secrecy

it festers there

in the way your back

has been bent

you feel it protesting

shouting loudly

at the mountains;

it happened to me,

you feel it wanting to

jump out of your chest,

fly banners in the street…

the silence falls

like a sheet

that is patiently shook out

covering all your words…

like the settling of dust

it causes no discomfort…

in this space you learn

to pray:

if You are there

then see me here

take this heaviness

into Your lap…











The point is,Ma…

ek hèt geweet dat

jou weggaan

soos ‘n hol kol  op my maag

sou bly sit…

tog betrap dit my


op die verkeerde voet

in my kop vertel ek jou

van my dag,

my oorwinninkies,

my nederlae…

want ek het baie

om jou te vertel,

teveel ditjies en datjies

wat niemand anders wil hoor

soos jy dit wou hoor nie…

ek weet wat jy sou sê…

hoe jy sou lag van lekkerkry

of verontwaardig sou wees,

always in my corner,

but that’s not the point,

now is it Ma?

How do I live without you

sing die radio

en ek wil daai jukebox

by die venster uitsmyt

kaplaks! tot in die straat

ek kon jou àltyd bel

vloermoer my hart

hier in my binneste

jy sou wel beaam wat ek

eintlik reeds weet

omdat jy dit ‘n halfeeu lank

vir my probeer leer het,

but that’s not the point, Ma…

nou blaai ek deur boeke

waarvoor jy lief was

The Houses Inbetween,

Die plesierboom,

gedigte van wat

die lewe so vlymskerp

intens persoonlik maak,

soekend na nog geselsies met jou,

ek luister na jou musiek,

Pavarotti se Moon River

wider than a mile

I’m crossing you in style someday…

en nou hèt jy en ek smile

as ek dink hoe stylish jy

sou wees vir daai trippie

jy is nou vry om te reis oral

waar jy met krom vingers

in jou Atlas sou naspoor…

ek loop deur jou leë plek,

praat met jou in die spieël,

the point is, Ma,

dat ek soos ‘n hanslam

bly blêr voor die plaashek

net om weer jou stem te hoor…



wild and free…

the clouds frown


in dark shadows

their cheeks blown up

filled with righteous anger

they utter strings

of swearing

like thunderbolts

trees bow their heads

lavender sway

giving generously

of themselves

their graceful necks


as if they

hear the beat of a song

I wish,

as I watch

the freedom of expression

of the elements,

that I too one day

will be wild and free,

without holding back,

will free myself

of expectations and opinions,

will expertly cast them aside

and leave unprecedented

winds of change

in my wake,

baptize myself

in all things

clean and pure;

children’s laughter

mountain springs…

clothe myself

in unpretentious beauty:

wood ferns

soft smiles

eyes of dogs…

fill my  memories with

beautiful days

when the sun dips

into the ocean,

the pregnant full moon,

the show of power

in the stance of a male lion,

the untamed song of birds

early on Spring mornings,

bunches of fragrant roses..

I hope fervently

that I will let the rest

slip away like dirty dishwater

to leave me forever…


-Vanessa Myburgh-





I wanted to tell you, you know?

I wanted to tell you,  you know

how magically you colored my life

how black my nights sometimes seemed

how I wish I knew

how to hate what I irreversibly loved


I wanted to tell you, you know…

that you made my heart feel

like a free sunbird in flight

like the solace and stillness of faith

when the world spinned out of control


I wanted to tell you, you know

before it was too late

wanted to climb on a high mountain

shout out the news, however inconvenient,

but…you played hide-and-seek

slipped away like quicksilver…


I wanted to tell you, you know…

my mouth was full of stars and orbits

ready to burst out of me to you,

my eyes were full with the sheen

of Luna, Orion,  Venus and Pluto…


I wanted to tell you, you know

because it belonged to you

and was mine to give…

but I saw in your eyes,  you already knew

had found it not nearly enough


like a race in the rain

my words skidded and slid

made a screeching u-turn and called halt

such sacred words deserved

to be heard by a willing ear…

-Vanessa Myburgh-





as ek jou liefkry


as ek jou


hoef die sterre

nie te skyn nie

daar hoef nie brood

in die broodblik

te wees nie

en loadshedding

is ‘n breeze

as ek jou


kan die see

maar tsunami

kan die maan

in die middel

van die dag

die son uitdoof

hoef ek nooit weer

Tafelberg te sien nie

kan die verkeer

maar hectic wees

as ek jou liefkry

kan die dag


sy eie gang gaan…

want dan is jy tog:

my sterre

son en maan,

my brood en my lig,

my veilige berg,

my heerlike reis…

as ek jou liefkry

span dit soos

‘n reënboog

bo-oor als…

-Vanessa Myburgh-



we skirt each other’s worlds

lightly tracing the profile

like rimlight would kiss 

a treasured piece of art

we tango never touching

our souls entwined

in a wanton embrace

yet forever finding this love

in a breathless waitingroom…

we circle each other’s skies

we longingly watch

from afar and every now

and every then…

we howl our sorrow

to the moon and her stars…

-Vanessa Myburgh-

dra my in jou broeksak


dra my in jou broeksak

sing my naam in jou kop

hoor my in die oggendbries

as die wind sy koffie roer

steek my in jou dagboek weg

daar kan ons omhels…

ek is altyd iewers


waar ek en jy kan riepa-raai…

want jy is my hoër noot

as wat ek ooit kon sing

ek is jou verlore lied

wat jy oor jou drome giet

dra my in jou broeksak

my kop sing jou naam

hoor jou lag gul en vry

as die branders vrolik breek

stap twee rye spore

in die sand

een vir jou en een vir my

ek dra jou in my rok se sak

strooi jou glimlag oor my oggendpap…

-Vanessa Myburgh-




she doesn’t walk

walking is locked

to the pull of the Earth

she doesn’t walk…

she  g-l-I-d-e-s

like an ice skater

all clinging skirt

arms out wide,

she doesn’t walk

she runs like the wind

hair blown back

from her ecstatic face,

gunning it down the road

she doesn’t walk

this fragile

breath of life

that pumps my heart

she races in fast cars,

screeching around

tricky bends,

past checkered flags…

she doesn’t walk

this life with the butterfly

tattooed on her breast,

she spreads powerful wings

and the lift-off

is effortlessly instant,

her feet hanging

as if from a swing

she backstrokes

through clouds,


over mountains

and tiptoes lightly,

whispering ‘hanyauku’

on the warm breeze…

she doesn’t walk

she’s got the sun

shining from her pocket,

a star dangling in her hair

and the moon is her

rocking chair…

-Vanessa Myburgh-