Wednesday, January 23, 2019

India: walking with the swami

aour teacher waited
for me / for us
at tiger's rock, jamalpur

here, long ago, the walk 
with the venerable master
grew to edges of the sky
to the hem 
of infinity

further inland: at ananda nagar
a large tract of land
‘vibrating rocks.’ the swami says
place of hope and aspiration
being present and connected
amid sweltering heat
dwellings of cow-dung bricks
hold
against nature

at the ashram
cleansing steps: wash feet and arms in ‘half bath’
tin doors clang
mosquito nets willow and billow 
heat quivers and water dries quickly 
wind sips 
from squirting shower

a small girl with krishna eyes 
red dot on brow, small hands
the aunty's helping hand;
a smile as she colours the stoep
a deep red

this is how 
we made our way

Sunday, August 12, 2018

Cascade


tackling the unworked seams
smiles and scars and puckered flesh
and further down the gradient
slow streams meet    
in patient cascade

Monday, June 11, 2018

The Deep


for Bra Ray Phiri

pluck the strings
amid the mkhukhus & tenements
along billboard-littered motorways, by grubby streams
via grass-topped homesteads
wending, winding, entwining, splicing
woven thread. the fabrics
from the sinews of the ancient folk
that still adorn
the broken school, chisanyama, spaza shop, the crafter's shed

pick the notes, brother
amid the jazz wizards, who cluster and eddy
faces floating in moonlit pools
the instruments, blackened walls, beer-stained tables
bitten fingers, chewed-out gum
standing by
the faces & barely-tied laces
present, struck, restless but unhurried
grainy as the blues

strum, brother, strum
a soothing embrace
to accompany those troubled dreams.
for seekers
that melody, coursing
like the fierce waters of the zambezi waterfall
along fault-lines & edges of love & broken skin &
cracked smiles

those visionary
gyrations
those sounds with lips, tongue & vital throat
that body with notes
      spurting forth
      from grey rocks, hard sands, volcanic rock, silt, carbon

your guitar wails, sighs & sings
dances in the aisles
till we hear our own voice
hoarse
calling out
from the deep

Saturday, April 21, 2018

New kids' story: Teacher Owl's Class

Just like my other children's stories, Teacher Owl's Class features the animals of Africa.

In this tale, while other learners play and do other interesting things, Snail learns something new about her family.

See the story here: https://tinyurl.com/yabjzc3q

Frank Meintjies

Saturday, April 14, 2018

Children's story: Elephants encounter lions and fire on their journey

In this story, the elephants encounter lions and a runaway fire on their journey.



Frank Meintjies

(This story may be copied and used for educational purposes. It should be used with author acknowledgement and, if the attached/linked version is used, due acknowledgment of the creators of the illustrations.)

Wednesday, March 7, 2018

Children's story: a wolf that saves the day

My new children's story, Mystic Moon Saves the Day, can be read here: https://live.fundza.mobi/home/fanz/stories/mystic-moon-saves-the-day/. or here: https://tinyurl.com/y9bzhn9w.

This is how the fundza.mobi website introduces the story: Mystic Moon is a wolf that is traveling through the Magaliesberg hills by himself. As he has been traveling, he has noticed some lions that haven’t been very kind to him. When some lion cubs get stranded at the top of a mountain and Mystic Moon is the only one who can help them, will the lions get over their pride to save their kids? Or will Mystic Moon be punished for trying to help?

Sunday, February 18, 2018

The storm

lightning flares, a phosphorescent scar
a Jedi sword
of galactic proportions
pile driving/slashing/talking/linking
 into grey of sky, & then
a massive bang, like cracking earth

raindrops pelting; two
& five rand coins
zing bare skin; bend leaves

wooshing trees
leaning
raking wind
    the quivering branches
    the brushed grass

small & big pulses .... flash& boom
call & response
a jazz-rock mixture
written in the sky, in the
folds of my heart

later, an eastward drifting
of stygian clouds
a soft roar, whirring rain
pours forth like purple slush
daylight stirred                                          
into a soup

here, where vainly
i seek cover …
i notice
the bark’s abrasiveness,
its brown
deeply darkened

a degeneration of
this leisurely stroll
into moist abandon/water-lit brows/glistening lips

back on street
I take small steps; then
glance back
at
                wonderfully
          muddy
steps …