cyclicals

cyclicals                                                        Charli Wiggill

 

the cycle of life…

a mundane brown lifeless stem
abruptly new shoots emerge
growing tall and strong
 
umbrella bud bides its time
springs the catch
bursts bloom as a sign

smiles fragrant greetings at passers-by
is visited and tickled
by many summer well-wishers
 

colourful façade fades

but beauty is not lost
a more pressing purpose grows
 
fruitful maturity borne generously
bowed boughs massed
weighted with self-sacrifice
 
sweet fruits of the spirit
ambrosia for others
nature’s gift for the heart
 
seeds rerouted and rooted
fed on warmth of sunshine
nurtured with kind thoughts
 
saplings strengthen
resolve to get ahead
lessons learned before
 
leaves twist and turn
define an acrobatic arc
mulch the precious soil
 
the cycle of love…

Hostel Life

Hostel Life                                       Charli Wiggill

Tick, tock, tick, tock, Kringgggggg....

Wake up! Wake up! It’s already 5.30 am

Good morning - today is a school day

Rise and shine…

Get up! Get up!

Aaaargh…

But we are really sleepy... We want to sleep some more

No... no... no… no... no…

Don’t disturb me...please...

Hey – come, come, come! Are you out of your mind?

You need to shower or

Take turns to bath and go to the loo.

Hey you… yes you, Buster - get up!

You might just be late…

We need to get this done today, you know

The school bell waits for no-one

Aaaaaaaaaaah – only cold showers again!

Huargh... What?

Have you made your bed?

Did you polish your shoes?

Is your shirt ironed?

Have you finished your Maths homework?

Arrr noooo... What?

We need to hurry

It’s already 6.15 am... and time for breakfast...

If you’re late...watch out... you’ll get into trouble

Now...the best part of hostel life is... meal time...

Grumble... rumble... grumble...

My tummy is groaning...

Yay – oily grey eggs and dry bread… again?

Urm...Yummy...slurrrppp…

Don’t take too much milk – it’s sour!

Yuck, I hate rotten milk – it tastes vile!

But if you use a ton of sugar it’s not too bad.

Don’t forget to put your plates and glasses in the basin....

 

There are many types of people here:

fat, skinny, tall, short, athletic, cute, pretty and the most peculiar is...the nerd!

Any nerds here? Whyyyy?

Hey, shhhhhhhhh – you’ll get a wack from Freckles, if you’re not careful

Thwack... Ouch... what was that for? Thwack – shuddup!

Do you know something?

Er… no?

Aaaaa... Help! Help! Run! Run! Big Bully Boy is chasing meeeee…

Excuse me! Who will look after all those… those, er, that stuff?

Hey – I’m speaking to you – yes, you!

Did you see the frog I caught for our Natural Science project?

Did you see Big Foot and Snollies hitting it off last night?

Stop spreading rumours man!

No, really - Big Foot’s bragging about it today

Oh, really – but he’s such a show-off!

Geraldine is so stuck-up, man

Have you ever seen somebody with their nose up in the air like that!

Ee... ish... we hate work... the prefects are slave-drivers:

Clean the dorm, sweep the floor, clean the windows

Wash the clothes, wipe the tables,

Like it or not... move it, man, move it... anytime and anywhere.

 

But... in the hostel, after all’s said and done

We depend on each other...

In the beginning we were scared of the teachers and the prefects

Especially when we first met them

And they caught us red-handed.

That was our first real attempt at smoking

Boy, did we splutter and cough and cough -

Banana leaves certainly smell awful when burning!

We thought we were unlucky not to be day scholars, then,

We were even scared

You, you were... Why scared?

Because there are just so many rules to be obeyed:

If you do not obey the rules and regulations…

If you are late...your name will be taken by the prefect...

Ooo… oh... all hell breaks loose!

But you eventually acclimatise to this special place!

The teachers (even old Porky) are our foster parents.

 

So, hostel life has its ups and downs...

BUT

We really are a big happy family.

You won’t ever forget your friends

You may realise the significance of this special life

Once you leave it –

You might even find that...

There is no other life like hostel life...

A special place for a chosen people like us!

At the Museum

At the Museum                             Charli Wiggill

Dad dragged us all to the natural history museum.
Though we appeared agreeable and familial
Mentally I was really kicking and screaming
against this perceived ordeal.

What a monstrous intrusion into my time!
As an avid gamer and social networker
I live a completely active and exhausting existence
in a very real but virtual world of memes, MXit, FaceBook and YouTube.
Back in the museum my fears were confirmed at the first exhibit:
A dusty duck-billed platypus from Australia gawked up at us all glassy-eyed…
Well I never – how curiously ridiculous!
Tommy, my horrid little brother was already trumpeting at the stuffed elephant
With heavy ivory twins gleaming in the dappled light and its substantial trunk raised in salute.
Pheeeeeeuuuueeeeeeeewwww! Pheeeeeeuuuueeeeeeeewwww!
I learned elephants gestate for 22 months – yessss – twenteeeee-twooooo months!
Wow - still not cool – but wow!

Tommy lurched out from behind a lion kill
Rooooaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrr!
Mother squealed in shock and dad jumped just a little (though he’ll never admit it).
This was quite funny and I caught myself laughing just a little, but really not cool
especially as I almost dropped my MP3 player and iPhone;
Luckily my earbud headphones saved the near-crash, and
with One Direction  pumping through my brain, I BBM’ed my best friend and,
checking I was still connected to the real world, calmed down soon enough.
I hate to admit it, but the whale skeleton was vaguely impressive.
It was 31 metres long - roughly the length of a basketball court – and
the original animal had weighed about 160 tons.
I imagined Justin Bieber being swallowed for a spell and
grinned at how that would disturb Amy, my 13-year-old sister.
Just then my dad dropped all decorum with the gaffe of the year:
He compared the voluptuous buttocks of the hippotamus to our, er,
mother’s… distress (he certainly won’t be eating this week).
And then my interest was suddenly piqued –
Before us stood the perfectly posed remains of the most magnificent animal.
It had the stature of an elephant-cross-hippo with short, strong and muscled legs.
It had a substantially distended jaw and a snout studded with a double horn in series.
My fascination grew incrementally and, just then,
Mom announced proudly for all to hear:

‘This is the now extinct Rhinoceros. We in KwaZulu-Natal had the last one in the world                  before it was shot by poachers. But they left the meat. Only took the horns.’

streetlights

with apologies to Sylvia Plath

hovering above the traffic

ever-present

all seeing

watching us

our humanity

our frailty

waiting patiently

great globular bowls of light

floating above the street

disciplined

precisely in line

lunar craft

billions of them

quietly strategising overhead

extra-terrestrial saucers

camouflaged in apparent tranquillity

feigning peace and co-existence

benignly illuminate our safe suburbs

bide their time

await the appointed hour

Straw Berry

She lies, reclining

Sensually to one side

No gaunt glances from

This fleshy model -

No mass-media hype

Or anorexic analogies

Rather, great

Voluptuous scarlet

Hips and thighs thrust out

Quilted with golden buttons.

She wears a dainty, starry

Wreath about her head,

Laurels of a distinguished past.

Inside, her delicate

Fine flesh

Pink, inviting

Welcomes the prodding tongue

Opening up her fine

Moist secrets.

The loss of innocence

She captivates the imagination

She captures your soul.

proliferation of silence

scientific argument looms lunaticlarge

international community shouts realdollars

developed world in educated superiority

developing world grasping vermin of society

accusations pointed both at each, rife

foundations fund concoctions of antidote

shout publicity of humanitarian aid

scientific argument looms lunaticloud

silently, my car zeros at the traffic light

surveying the numb ooze of idyllic city scenes

swamped by orphaned toddlers up on tippy-toes

gazing blankly into my quiet home comfort

glue bottle readying the quite cold comfort

silent unsaid messages stated loud and clear

I stare blankly through their veiled pleas

silently, my heart zeros at the traffic light

silently, I sit at your side, next to you

bedclothes steaming, a crumpled tangle

eyes adrift in a tempestuous, stormy sea

misdirected and focusing behind beyond

many unasked answers in your emaciated face

government plods ponderously, retro-virally

society silences the inevitable, we silence silence

silently, I sit far from your side, next to you