The Beauty Within

My friend, Jenna, gave me the following brief:

“The Beauty Inside

How about something to inspire us who are not able to see our worth or beauty in a cruel world.”

I have been thinking about this since I first read her comment.  I had a few ideas I was toying with but decided that something unconventional would be the best route to go with this subject.

The Lady Without a Name

She is there on the park bench; the lady without a name

I see her every Friday, like we play some kind of game


Her sight is straight ahead – an empty, lifeless gaze

I see something on her cheekbone, it’s clearly a graze


She wears pretty clothes, but something’s clearly amiss

She’s a classic beauty, not at all a ‘Miss Pris’


Her eyes are dark pools, rich and deeply clear

It’s only when she blinks them, that I notice her tears


I wonder what she’s thinking, what’s making her sad

Or is she crying because she’s irate; flaming mad?


Excuse me. What’s the matter? Yes, I am bit nosy

Before she can protest, I hand her a posy


Oh, Sweet Girl, it’s my husband, you see

He words are cruel and hateful, and he beats me


I too have been there, I know her pain

But us women are warriors – rainbows after the rain


Tell me what he said, I ask, the reason you’re so blue

Men that treat women badly, they’re a Motley Crew


Her lips tremble as she begins to speak

Her voice is so quiet, barely an audible squeak


He called me useless: A whore!

He said I’m stupid,

A bad mother

Decayed at the core


The tongue cuts deep, a double-edged sword

That I do believe, as it is written in the Word of the Lord

I take her hand in mine, and give it a squeeze

Listen to me now, and believe this, please.

The world may be cruel, dark and dim

But you have a special light, that shines within

You are unique, special and I can sense, kind

Don’t let anyone who can’t see that make YOU feel blind!

It may not be easy, but you have the power to leave

No person should choke your living, disallowing you to breathe
Despite the rank darkness of the world today

You are important, you have a fated role to play

I also know it’s easy for me to talk

I don’t wear your shoes, I don’t know your walk

What I do know is this, we’re women; warriorly fighters

We sacrifice of ourselves all the time, to make others’ burdens lighter

There is beauty in you, and hidden gems too

You work to fill others, it’s what we do

Be hopeful, be happy, choose to be free

Others have done it, you can too!

She rose from her seat, no tear in sight

Thank you, she said, woman of might!

It’s been a year since that Friday, her bench has been empty

But she’s moving and shaking, with good deeds a-plenty

I’ve heard she shares her story, no longer with shame

That incredible lady, without a name.



Solitary Confinement

(Image from:

Alone with my Thoughts

I’m not my worst enemy

I’m a prisoner, an unwilling hostage

Confined by thoughts of despair and solitude

Incarcerated in the darkness of my regressive mind

Images cloud my tired mind

Some strikingly clear, others somewhat hazy

Slivered light – Dawn signals a new day

Not enough to fend off my mind’s tricks

The mildew of indescribable sadness

Fills my nostrils, making me gag

My heart aches, but no tears fall

No-one hears the silent screams of my misery

Dampness clings to my cheeks

Tears have escaped, during my sleep

I’m alone. No Love to cover me

My vivid imagination my only hope of freedom

Seated on the slimy mattress

I contemplate jumping into the chasm

At least there I will be free

Thoughts…they won’t be able to harm me

There is no prison warden

With an evil grin, nor the keys

Only I have the means to leave

I need strength to fight the loneliness


I woke up on Sunday morning, opened the blinds and smiled with relief when I saw the blue skies because I wanted to take a solitary nature walk, to connect with a part of myself that I miss.


(Photo from saidaonline)

Alas, the weather has turned foul, so my plans were shelved for the moment.

I had had some friends round the night before for a small get together.  We had a few laughs and when everyone had left and I was doing the last of the dishes, I suddenly felt like someone had ripped my heart out.  Just.  Like.  That.  I waited until everyone had let me know they’d arrived home safely and I crawled into bed.  Horrid dreams plagued me all night.  I was awake at five am again…

I had my morning shower and put on some Lady Antebellum – it’s great Sunday music.  The strangest thing happened when All We’d Ever Needed started playing – I was overwhelmed by a flood of tears and a gut-wrenching yearning…for someone.  The question is who?  Some days being alone really gets to me; it makes my heart ache so badly. My folks got home from a weekend away and we went out for lunch to a local steak house called Cattle Baron.  Elizabeth joined us, as did Aunty Carol and Uncle Barry.  Lunch was divine, as were some shooters…but even more scrumptious was our waiter, a tall, dark haired, blue eyed god called G.T.  The old folks left and Elizabeth and I stayed behind, drinking coffee – but G.T I’m sure knew we stuck around to just perv over him.

After I got home, the Sunday blues grabbed me again, so I forced myself to write something – I have had no inspiration for quite a while now and many people notice that I’m devouring books.  What they don’t know is that as long as I’m reading, I’m not writing much.  I read three novels last week…


A simple tune drowns out the white noise

But it doesn’t stop the raging storm

Waves of emotion crash over my rocky heart

Changing its exterior with each swell

A deep, insatiable yearning sets in

Tears blur my vision

The melody continues to taunt me

Rubbing my solitude in my face

Taking pleasure in my heartache

Evil voices laugh in my head

Making me doubt my worthiness

I wonder if you see what I see

Is that why you keep your distance?

I know you’ve noticed me

Yet you keep me at arm’s length

Or do I just blend into the background?

The yearning to be part of your life

Devours my mind

Day and Night

Dawn and Dusk

Through my soft sobs

I wipe my tears

The yearning isn’t gone, but the ditty is finished

I have to carry on, face the day…and not lose hope.

Creative Writing: Mixed Emotions


(Image by

Mixed Emotions

Your voice so rich and inviting

Your chocolate eyes so warm

Your smile genuine and open

Yet your reaction is cold…


My hope will not be cut off

Tells a wise king in the Proverbs

I have a future

Solomon declares


I extend an olive branch, a request to mend what’s left of what we have

But only lowly twigs remain

As your fire of rejection burns it to ashes

My heart aches in sad confusion


I hear your hollow voice behind me in the hallway

I turn to look into your reflection-less eyes

Your lips so tightly pursed hide your memorable smile

Who are you?  What have you become?


Momentary flames burn within me

As I speak your name from my lips

My tummy flutters when I see you

My skins yearns for your touch


I cling to my promised hope

Of a love eternal

I am never alone

Single footsteps show me where He carries me…


Wordlessly you open your arms

A tear escapes, staining your cheek

Your lips part in a primal roar

“I love you.   Please, don’t leave me!”


Only embers remain

As ice engulfs my heart

I feel empty and lost

Yet strangely at peace


My voice is crisp

My eyes wide-open

My smile sincere

My reaction unexpected, even to me…


“I am hurt, confused and almost hateful…

But I can’t stop loving you!”


A roaring fire burns my core

As I scream your name from my lips

My tummy flutters as you gently take my hand

My skin is alive by your touch.

Creative Writing: The Letter I’d Write, but Never Post

Another repost from 2009 – a chap I fancied at the time suggested I write a suicide note for a creative writing challenge, so I did:


When I used to hear people talk about people they knew who had committed suicide, my immediate reaction was always, “What can be so bad that someone feels they have NOBODY to talk to?”  Ironically enough, I have reached that very point in my life, where I feel nobody will understand, let alone care.  Even more ironic still is that while I feel nobody will understand, I still feel the need to explain why I have decided to end my own life and to bid the important people in my life a final, bittersweet farewell.

Mom and Dad – I could not have asked for better parents.  You have both been a shining example of what love, hope and trust are.  You taught me many important things during the last three decades, particularly to be proud of who I am and what I have achieved.  I am proud of many things, particularly to have had you as parents, but I am not proud of the many disappointments I have allowed you to suffer as a result of my pig-headedness.  I know that you will have to face many people after I’ve gone and while I know it will be a disappointment, I ask you to forgive me.  I love you both with my entire heart.  And I am grateful for everything you have done for me.  Please tell Aunty C, Uncle B, Cousins A & L and her kiddies that they were always my favourites.

I have had so many people I have been privileged to call friends over the years. Some were only in my life for a season, others for much longer.  Three friends, although I don’t think they realize it, have really touched my life on this earth – not because of who they are (well, that too…) but because of the importance they place in their faith.  While I am a believer, I was never fortunate enough to experience the same depth and dependency of faith in my life as they did in theirs. Mia, Haan and Nella – may your faith always keep you going.  And, while I’m probably not in the position to be making requests given my decision, I beg for your forgiveness and ask you to pray for my parents left behind.

Zettie, Liza, and Kel – in addition to the three friends mentioned above, you too have touched my life.  Despite time, distance and my ever changing moods, each one of you was always willing to set time aside to listen when I needed you or just to be.  This means more to me than I think any one of you may realize.  Sadly though, in spite of this, I wasn’t able to share the deep sadness that has haunted me to such an extent that I have chosen to end my life, rather than face the continuing darkness.

A – Baby, you are someone who also touched my life in a very profound way.  You were there when the wheels started to fall off the wagon with S (as were you Zettie) and continued to be for long after.  We’ve shared laughs, tears and some naughty secrets.  Know my friend that I’m sorry to leave you, but really, I don’t see any alternative.  How do I go on?  You can keep my sexy black ‘n green dress.  Just don’t wear it to my funeral!

J – I love you.  I have since the first time you chirped me at work.  I’ve laughed with you, cried with you and been so naughty with you.  It took you a long time to make a move, but when you did, it shook my world.  I don’t think I was ever the same after that first kiss we had shared.  I wish you every happiness in the world. Just remember to be good – and if you can’t, take pictures.

To those of you who didn’t receive a special mention, I doesn’t mean that pictures of you didn’t pop into my mind and make me smile.  I will miss you all too!

With much heartache and despair,


Creative Writing: Windows

Policeman Peeking In

When I saw the theme “windows” I thought, “hmmm, what to write?”


I have been thinking about it for most of the morning, in between my regular murder plotting and poison-brewing sessions, and eventually inspiration struck. While this is not exactly a story about windows, it involves windows being opened as well as peeped through.


My parents often used to leave me in Cousin L’s care when her parents and mine decided to go somewhere for a weekend.  I remember one weekend in particular…


Cousin L was on the verge of her 18th birthday which would mean I was already 16 at the time.  Our parents went away for a weekend and left us at home.  I loved spending time alone with Cousin L because we would always do girly-stuff together and she would let me watch movies that my parents thought either too graphic, too violent, too sexual, too whatever.


Anyhow, it was a Friday night and by 6 PM we were kitted out in our pajamas watching Egoli, when hunger pangs got the better of Cousin L and she asked what I would like for supper.  Bear in mind that age 16, all I could cook was rice and instant gravy.  I said to her that chops would probably be a good idea.


Cousin L, not one to do anything in half measures, took out about 20 chops, spiced them, and promptly popped them under the grill.  By this time there was something juicy happening in Egoli, so she and I once again became engrossed, not really noticing the smoke billowing around us.  At one stage I still remember commenting to her that the TV was a bit hazy.


During the ad break, she went to check on the chops, let out a shriek and yelled, “Oh fuck MTM, the chops are on fire!!”  *Cough, cough, sputter, sputter*  “FUCK! Help me damnit!!”  Ever calm, I told her to find some bicarb in the pantry and chuck it over the chops to douse the flames.  By this time she eventually had the savvy to close the oven door, but kept peering through it – and believe me, while a watched pot never boils, an oven on fire just keeps on flamin’!


“MTM, I can’t find the bicarb – so I’m just going to use…”  and before I could yell for her not to, she tossed flour onto the already blazing chops.  Needless to say, the flour too caught alight and soon the flames were licking her forearms and all I could get out of was, “Fuck!  Fuck!  FUCK!!!”


In between the chaos, there was a hammering on the front door (which is one of those made up of tiny little cottage windows) and while I was scuttling out of my slippers to answer the door, I noticed a man peering in through it.  I opened the door and there stood a policeman in full uniform.  “Lovely, just lovely.  What now?!” I thought.


The policeman, ever so polite asked if everything was alright.  I told him that we were fine and proceeded to enquire if there was a problem.  “Well, yes young lady, there appears to be a problem – there is smoke billowing out of all your windows. Is there a fire?”


“Oh no Sir, that’s just my cousin cremating my dinner, but she has everything under control.”


“Fuck!” came the voice from the kitchen and the next thing both the policeman and I heard a kind of ssshhhhhhh noise – Cousin L had extinguished the blaze – with her dad’s foam extinguisher.


She came out of the kitchen, wiping perspiration from her brow, muttering something about fat on the element and then stuck out her hand to shake the policeman’s.  I don’t know who was more gobsmacked – me, or the policeman.


Needless to say, we never had supper that night and the chops were disposed of in such a way that nobody ever knew about our little pyrotechnic episode.


Aunty C (Cousin L’s mom couldn’t understand what the white foamy stuff, and some black bits in her vacuum cleaner was though…yip – you guessed it, Cousin L hoovered the oven out.


Never a dull moment…

Creative Writing: Good vs Evil

This was a piece I wrote in February 2009.  It was based on Marc Chagall’s painting, titled La Mariee.  It was written on my interpretation of the painting.



Bloodied Bride

In the pits of hell she walks
Her once-pure-white wedding dress
Tainted with dry, maroon blood

For her child to lead a normal life
She must offer herself in sacrifice
To live eternally damned

He smiles with evil glee
Goat-like devil, groom of damnation
Her master in hell forevermore

Her eyes are dead
Her soul lost
Her child no longer in danger…

His lungs fill with unassisted air
For the first time since the accident
That killed his father

He and Mom had just married
She tried to help
But his stomach was eviscerated

She died giving him CPR
She thought she would get time
To make a decision

Regarding her salvation
But she never did
Everything died that day…