Long days
imprisoned in tight takkies,
or bound in leather vellies,
the toes cry out in hot protest
to be freed.

Stumbling through the door
I head straight to the bedroom
to kick off the offending shoes,
peel off the damp socks
and slip the barking dogs
into soft, reassuring
sheepskin moccasins.





I do love my slippers!


Interesting notes:

*  The title “peddomus” is from Latin  (ped-) and means “foot”
and “domus” (also Latin) meaning “home.”

Takkies are what most South Africans call a rubber-soled canvas sports shoes (Americans call them “sneakers” or “tennis shoes” and British call them “trainers.”
“Vellies” are the nickname of “veldskoens” which are handmade South African leather shoes or boots.

The use of “dogs” to refer to feet is American.According to Tom Dalzell, author of “Flappers 2 Rappers: American Youth Slang” (Merriam Webster, October 1996), it was during the Jazz Age of the 1920’s that “dogs” was used as a noun to indicate feet.

reflect – refract – disperse


Accreditation. Good idea but terrible in practice. These people want a hundred million policies and then more policies on policies. And here I sit, the clock counting the minutes, throwing away the hours, as I rehash the old, reformat docs to pedefs, going possum-eyed and head getting stuffed full of cotton wool. I sit till I can’t sit no more. I type till all the letters trip over each other and I want to chuck the keyboard through the screen. I decide to reward frozen fingers with a cup of hot coffee. Dark mood, darker kitchen, I draw back the curtains. And there it is. Right smack in the front of a bulging charcoal cloud — the fattest most vibrant rainbow I have ever seen. It fills the kitchen with shimmering light, spilling blue on floor and throwing red on the walls. Suddenly my feet have wings and I dance all over the linoleum, arms flapping, a big silly grin slapped across my face. My heart sails into the sky doing loop-de-loops around the electric colours.

Heavy grey canvas
God takes his watercolours
And paints a warm smile





Accreditation is why you won’t see me much around here for a while.  Told a week ago I have four weeks to “get it all together.”  My brain is turning to mush.  My fingers don’t fall on the right keys anymore.  But this morning I got a burst of joy, and it carried me for the rest of the day.

Over at dVerse it was Haibun Monday. (I thought I couldn’t take time to join in). Grace challenged us to “Think about a moment of your typical day (first person singular). This can be your morning routine, commute, day in the office, a walk in the afternoon, household chores, grocery shopping, gardening etc. Here’s the challenge: write and find the “extra” in your ordinary day.”

Well, there you are.  :)



“Death be not proud, though some have called thee  
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,  
For, those, whom thou think’st, thou dost overthrow,  
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.”
John Donne


You’ve been told to lie down,
hang that dog-head of yours,
but every time we turn around
you sink your nasty fangs into more tender flesh.


random reaper
taking what someone else has sown


threadbare and thin
(almost transparent)
like a pot of soup
with more
and more water
added every day


a slow turning
from one form
to another —

atoms changing dance partners


a door
no one wants to knock on,
no one wants to go through


does the bell
yet toll for you,
oesophageal rattlesnake?


Like a proper sentence,
we will begin with a capital
and fix a steady period
to the end.


a dark passage into the unknown


a bridge
over an anxious river





Björn is hosting the bar at dVerse and the challenge is to write a cubist poem.



You bear your scars well
and hide your wounded heart
behind a wall of activity.

I want to silence the mockers
and challenge the foe.
But you insist on picking up that cross.

And you are right
and wrong
at the same time.

And my heart is breaking
for the brokenness
of Adam’s sons.

The Weeping Philosopher


The Obscure spoke. Most shook their heads and turned away. “The way up and the way down are the one and same. Living and dying, waking and sleeping, young and old, are the same.”  Heraclitus watched them walk away and scorned them. Why could they not see that all things change and arise from change and then change again? Round and round and round we go. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Feed and be fed. Breathe and be breathed. Closed system continually reshaping, remoulding, reworking itself. Atom to atom, cell to cell. A riddle within a rhyme.

cycles of nature
regenerating the earth
world in a raindrop




Over at dVerse it’s Haibun Monday and Toni is hosting the event.  Today’s theme is “change” and it brought to mind the words of Heraclitus, “The only thing that is constant is change.”

Cleri-Who? Two


I have enjoyed reading the Clerihew poems over at dVerse.

I tried my hand at this form before.  Here is my previous offering:  Cleri-Who?

It is not an easy thing to do, although it is short and sweet.
Here are my offerings today:


Gene was wild, bright and free.
Comedic timing to a tee.
He worked until he honed his craft.
Now he makes the angels laugh.


Mr Carver and his green thumb
Told the farmers how it’s done
They laughed and scoffed until they heard
Peanuts were used to make the bird.


Why don’t you give it a try?

I Miss You


There is truth in what they say
about Time being a healer.
I resisted his attempts
at mending my heart,
wanting to feel the sharp ache,
thinking that if it became dull
I would lose the outline of your smile,
the fullness of your laugh,
the intensity of your eyes.

But he caught me sleeping at my post
and crept in with iodine and plasters.

Somehow the pain has mellowed
like a rich Merlot
and is lined with a soft sweetness —
the gentle reminder of your love,
the resounding echo of your voice:
“Courage, comrade.
Fix your gaze on the author
and run with steadfastness
the course marked out for you.”

And so I run,
encouraged by your witness,
surrounded by a great cloud.

But as I run,
I recall our synchronised gait
and I miss you
all over

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