You can knit outfits from yarn without looking
you can catch up stitches across rows
you can undo what you have just done
you can invent your own pattern
There are some who yarn while they knit
many sing and dance, moving about
others put it down with a sigh
only to pick it up with dreamy eyes
What of those like me whose feet punctuate the rhythm of their hands
following the cadence by keeping up to step
it is a simple beat.
Knit-Purl Step-Up with right foot
back to Knit-Purl Step-up with right foot
Lilting unto the end.
You work from home
and no one is checking over your shoulder
you’re in charge, running the show
Just send your report and you are paid, but so little!
Or you choose to take a job in town
where you are part of the team
with back-to-back meetings
while you smile to colleagues till your lips feel sore
A well-paid job but you will never get your way.
If sharing information is at stake
yet you intend to offset the demands
and maintain a balance
keep your views to yourself
Saving your wise opinions for an opportune time.
The shopkeeper signals her over.
’Not my turn!’ she says.
He looks to the side ‘Come on then!’
calling to the Indigenous youth he’d ignored,
who shuffles up holding some sandals.
‘You can’t afford those, he growls, ‘Pick something else’,
returning the man’s card behind the counter.
He turns to her. ‘One sunhat. Any cash with that?’
She shakes her head, enters her pin,
staring at the forlorn card on counter.
‘Cashless welfare’ he grins.
Looking up, ‘That’s better!’
She turns to see the glum youth,
standing, flipflops in hand.
she wonders how to report this power keeper.
I love hearing people and enjoy watching them
but I don’t like to study them. I know gestures,
posture or gait can indicate varied personalities.
I understand some traits like the eyes, the nose
or the mouth might be inherited.
Is there a view that our body shape
could affect our development
as an individual? I don’t
know that either.
For an insight
into my fellow
humans I rely
only on intuition.
No study needed.
When we meet
I start talking with
them. By chance
we open on topics
common to us.
Either we hit it off
or we don’t.
Communication was difficult
due to lack of facilities in a prison.
Prisoners were sometimes refused
pen, paper or envelopes.
Some of the duty officers could be punitive
or unwilling to act.
In the education centre, tutors often worked around that:
pulled out pages, force- scribbled pens,
Student prisoners sometimes came back with
other times with a letter for which they needed
They said they could buy stamps but the shop had
Last night my dream became
a prison administrator’s nightmare.
a gross of envelopes.
Every prisoner who wanted could send letters!
Definitely in the moment. Legs crossed and back straight!
I close my eyes and concentrate. Rock music, not
the Beatles, Pop Songs. I push that thought aside.
A shard of light. Beachside sunsets will defeat
all blinds. I breathe in, then out for two extra
counts. In with the sea smell, out with rock
pulses. Breathing in the musical
rhythms, holding and breathing
out the warm sunlight. I let go.
Vagueness of thoughts
and sounds merge in
the lull of the van
where I sit on a
mat, on the edge
of a crowded
I tried calligraphy
With trials at drawing.
I didn’t go on stage.
I gave up the piano.
From Greek I translated
Some of Homer’s Iliad.
I went around Europe,
In and out of England too.
I danced to rock and roll
But revelled in jazz jams.
I met an Englishman.
Leaving my little brother behind, we went to Africa. There in a house
With no electricity we raised our first-born. To my small baby, wrapped
in bright java-print I started talking in French English even in Chilunda.
Mwinilunga turned out to be a good place to learn a new language .