Yvonne Rautenbach

Wandering man dreams of a place
with no demands yet no disgrace
with nice clean sheets, a fragrant pillow,
Wills that bend around like willow
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Shining black moon
Thrilled with teeth
Come to our shores
Of gold and grief
...

Beloved tools unstirred
They are strangers
Brushes, pencils, pens
Erased from my picture
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The Ballad of Mary and Chappie


She was wandering whitehaired clutching her lead
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Faces bow In days unknowing
Gaze upon a virgin sheet
Smileys in a snowstorm glowing
Painting lips which never meet
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Dear Old Stick! !

Images of Derek with his stick
A gentleman with touch of royal chic
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Market Day in Ely city


Busking, business clink and clatter
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A spell a spell was cast on me
Turned to stone and apathy
I sit I sit like lifeless slate
Layers of crumbling on my plate
...

Some things are said without saying
But sadly a few never said
A word which is painful in coming
Can get lost in the thoughts of your head.
...

I sit by the cliffs at the foot of the hills
The sea ambles in
While the river infills
Gulls are but dashes in mist
...

You have chosen your rack
and put me in mine
Labelled and corked and all in line
Haughty necked thoughts fermenting
...

I went to you in pain and told my tale
How I saw the world in darkness now gone stale
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There is a knife in the hand of a vicious breeze
I wonder did it murder the trees?
There is noise like acid and wasps in my head
Did they rattle my nerves until they were dead?
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Possibly a love I never knew
He stood for strength and resolution too
Carved like oak but softer than cut stone
Shoring up and beaming all alone
...

Grey streaked walker in the mist
Oaken branch within your fist
Cautiously your ankles twist
You make this reason to exist
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This is definitely not the place to have a party
because every carport echos like the Matterhorn.
You should wipe that smile right off your face
For all all the peace you might have had is gone
...

I rarely write about love but I saw a teenage couple locked in love's embrace but with agony and despair on their faces..At 52 I suddenly remembered it well and wrote this..
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Autumn arrives, arrests me like a friend
Leads me to her mall for us to spend
A little time on treasures she has wrought
Rubies, emeralds, diamonds yet unbought
...

Once more the evening falls
Upon the playground in the shade.
Reflecting in my seeping tears
Upon the games I played.
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Homesick


You are all
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