A selection of poetry rooted in domestic humor, Cape Town and South Africa

Sunday, July 01, 2018


The dish washer hummeth violetly in the background,
The family argue feistily in the middle,
The foreground is a slash of light cross her eyeballs
But hinterland, far from company, she silently communes,
Cut off from sealight by mountain ranges, weather patterns,
deep shitte, this inland may, by foolish young,
Be termed barren,
However she lives off the land, landing water from the air,
Airing private thoughts, to nobody in particular, yet anyone with an ear
Building oceans from rivers, in the desert.
Reader-writer poet's music, a trance hypnotizes all comers
With off-beat unrhythms of atonal resolutions
Finding themselves after 159 sub beats
Coming round the mountain when she comes.

You know me but you don't know me
I am with you but I am not with you.
Good Lord is that a whale breaching?
Reaching for binoculars while
Holding the picture in my...
Can you please try and hold these two
Things in tension?
It's possible.
There that's good.

He lies next to me.
Reading the world to me.
Meaning the world to me.

The Emperor's new clothes

Before I borned was I dreamed.
Fed, watered, the lazy oxygen coming and going while my boozle woozle
Pianod and overflowed with celebratory anticipation, wanting a son.

Was me naked?
Debatable but irrelevant. Clothed by drowsle.
My first day of school. I didn't feel too naked, actually, thanks
But there's a fair chance I was, clothed by no worries.

Adults only, lonely owner. Painfully nude, adam's garden.
Lost ma fig leaf, anorexia nerdoza. Ungladly present.
Clothes are Such a wonderful invention. Just great.
I wish I had a personality, I enthused to my TheRapist.
Hiding behind nothing. But the bastards found me.
Deathly kaal.

Mortgage, Overdraft, Establishment, Sadly,
Now cover me in necessary windshields.

Dearest Mumsy,
Thanks for the gift of today and this life and these promises I must keep,
For I see your dream waits,  patient like
And comes sooner than any mite guess or know,
Becos another waterless birth, naked debut with a light protective
Suit of invisible clothing, is all I need
Before embarking.

Sunday, December 24, 2017


Rindicella was a good girl.
She didn't kiss on the first date
She was always home by curfew
She ate healthy foods
She studied hard for matric
She listened to her mum on all conceivable occasions
When she cooked a lemon cake she always followed the recipe
She would save her smarties for later, thereby proving to all that she could delay gratification
She deserved a nice Jewish boy who would tie his laces dutifully, tithe his ten percent, devote himself to her upkeep, and massage his mother in law's feet instantly on request
Everyone agreed she would bring home something special one day.

Raski was a juvenile delinquent of the most atrocious habits
He lived in the castle on the hill and never ever listened to his mother
He would lie baking in the sun most mornings and drink fanta grape even when his mother said get that child out the sun he's headed for skin cancer
He would cut his laces short because he was so uncoordinated that he would trip over them, then not bother to even tie them and blow smoke rings at his father when he insisted upon some levels of decency in his home
He would borrow his aged mother's gold card to buy Cadburys whispers and petrol to visit the book exchange and never ever brush his teeth.
All in all a rotter to the core.

Jehovah was and still is the God of the eleventh hour deliverance and had been keeping a beady eye on these two children since they were babies
He also had a divine sense of humor, which as all of the compassionate mothers know, is the key to good matchmaking. He was hanging around the pearly gates with st Peter and cracking jokes about who was in and who was out this year when a red Volksie beetle shot into the drive thru
Without paying. St Peter's reaction was to shout WTF which in heavenly language means "want the falafel?"

Yes dear children, Rindicella had snuck in to heaven and out again without paying for her falafel.

Raski at the same time was deep into the latest Booker prize and as usual reading while crossing the road. Let me not tell you of Rindicellas steering skills but One thing and another Rindicella and Raski ended up eating falafel at a late nite teetotallers pub on the verge of known civilization. They found they both liked it crispy but not too overdone

The beginning of a long term long range long budget movie had kicked into gear. To cut a long story short Raski trimmed his toenails and his vocabulary and reading habits and everybody pulled in, or did they pull out? Whatever, in and out, up and down and around about and in the twinkling of an eye Raski and Rindicella had a brood of the most imaginative rascals.

They named their brood the Rindicella and Raski Rastafarian Rubbishes. This was to satisfy a codicil in uncle Bertys will that Raski be always referred to as that Ruddy Rubbish, but he turned it into a joke and insisted that he always take out the garbage on Monday mornings.

God is good.

And they all lived happily ever after.

Next instalment once the hangover has lifted.

PS Jules and Caits and Grandads gifts are hidden beside the chimney
Merry Christmas
Ross, Dad

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

I've just reduced to the lowest possible cost all of my Amazon kindle poetry books. See here

Tuesday, July 01, 2014

some published poems

Some more recent and upcoming stuff


striking women

health science

Dawn Garisch did some lovely critting of my stuff below on Slipnet

plot point

the villanelle

the close up

pulling out the stop

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Garden Angel

Garden angel

A connoisseur of the formally informal handshake,
Usually I gloss, grip and release,
Quick eyecatch, then it’s business as usual.

Chronic avoider of the most distracted kind,
Often missing names first-off,
I normally duck and dive,
But the day I  meet you,
Something shifting and warm
Under your twinkle moves,
A quiet laughter, gentle, amused,
And I understand gay,
Though I'm as straight as Nelson's column,
And I laugh too,
Just for the sheer joy of the morning,

And as the twins respectfully watch the upended lawnmower being coaxed
back to health,
We all find a graceful ease from your mystical, faraway Lake Malawi
Overcome the household,
Birdsong somehow more audible,
The light, different?

Even the lady of the house
Has a kind word to say
about your way with weeds
And, cynic that I am,
I find myself humming,
thoughtfully, almost consciously
'And did those feet, in ancient times...'




Of all of the passionate poets
Who ever engaged, held, or released me
(Go on!)
In 40 years of intelligent adulthood
(Theatrically lights ciggy, ignoring looks)
The winner is an Irishwoman
Who engaged me with
(Blows smoke ring)
excitement, intrigue, interest
(Exhales ecstatically into space),
So I choose to replay a broadcast
Of my teenage experience
Of a lazy lilting lass
(Stubs it out and eyes reader thoughtfully)
On the edge of losing it forever,
As her deeper delving
Delivered me from my dull lonepain,
Picking me up on an
Unstoppable wave of ideas and associations  as
(Faraway look)
Her canny Celtic clevers carried me into
A universe of undulating understandings,
(Naughty blue-eyed smile)
This gift that would govern every poem or person
I would ever truly enjoy -

That longago catchup conversation with my Mother.

Monday, July 08, 2013

old post

My Latest Amazon Kindle poetry books available here

A competition I won last year at the SA Writers College is called  In Search of the Poetic Impulse - My Writing Journey

A fun bit of writing from wayback is Waitin' for Fuzzy - I won the 2008 SA Writers' College Short Story Competition with this

Some published poetry on SLiPNet here and here 2 and here 3 and here again

Music here

A spider converses with God

A spider converses with God

You the sun light up
you my eyes and warm
you my body and move
you my legs across
you my web towards
you little gnat and I bite
you delicious neck until
you the food go still and I spin
you the thread over and around
you the prey and I deposit
you beloved egg and
you another egg and
you more eggs and I sit still,



No selfishness, doubt or anxiety
just the certainty of you,

When the heel, spray, child's stick comes
the you stops,
and becomes, finally,


Monday, July 01, 2013

let me turn your book into a kindle publication

Recently did a kindle book from word document to published kindle on amazon. Google Jenneth Graser Catching the Light on Amazon kindle. Decided to offer this service to the public. For R500 I will transform your book from word document to kindle, including a lovely cover if you'd like. Leave a note if you're interested. Google Ross Ian Fleming on the Amazon site for my own poetry books I have published. Cheers, Ross