Prose

The Buoyant Attitude

Posted on by Khaya Ronkainen / 32 Comments

People I know visit Tallinn, often. I do too, but not to hangout with them. Because conversations can easily resemble those that take place in a staff room, with certain groups intent on the jargon that eludes most multilinguals.

I visit Tallinn to have a conversation with my neighbour, whom I often avoid meeting at the corridors of our building. Because the thin walls of the city boxes we live in transmit all sorts. I usually resort to catching glimpses of her comings and goings through a peephole. I suspect she does the same.

But on a ferry to Tallinn, we suddenly have a lot to talk about as empty bottles of champers sway to the rhythm of ocean waves, and with our voices matching the sound of live music. We lose all inhibitions. We are away from home.

note: This short story (140 words) is a response to the prompt, Away from Home, for Telling Tales with Magaly Guerrero; a Pantry of Prose.

Poetry

A Test of Character

Posted on by Khaya Ronkainen / 32 Comments

I have died many deaths
not by the sword of a foe
but by that of a friend
trying to outsmart truth

The future is rimmed
with uncertainty that tests
resilience and character

In uncertain times
friends pick up swords
and slash all hope

For choosing hope is to confirm
– anything is possible

How dare you acknowledge the truth!

I have died many deaths
but I’m still here to testify,
for someone neglected
to wipe the blood.

For Midweek Motif, Poems To Weather Uncertain Times, at Poets United.

process note: Here is a quote by Adam McKay, I like very much “Truth is like poetry. And most people fucking hate poetry.”

If you don’t believe that some people hate poetry the truth, please read The poet must die by Don Mattera. I believe he wrote it during uncertain times in the history of South Africa. It’s my favourite poem by him (and has actually inspired this my poem above) because it shows what poetry can do.

Poetry

Now, I Shall Walk!

Posted on by Khaya Ronkainen / 31 Comments

I think of a word
simple and sacred.
Yet nothing comes
to mind in praise of
slowness.

For the restless mind
with thoughts swirling
like a gypsy skirt is stuck

Walk—
something so pedestrian
the mind boggles
and feet start to argue
for what better way
to escape the mundane
than court a birdsong
and be astonished
by forests enchanted

Now, I shall walk!

For Midweek Motif, Walk, at Poets United.

process note: When I saw the prompt, I was excited at first. But soon after, I got totally blocked because there is walking, and walking. The latter, for me, is like a prayer. And, how do I begin to write about something so personal! I only hope I did the prompt justice.

As it happens, I’m about to embark on a whole lot of walking as we travel from city to city around the country. This means I’ll either have a WI-FI connection or not depending on where we are. So, I apologize in advance for slow reading and responding to comments.