Citrus Inspired Word Art - A COMPILATION OF SOUTH AFRICAN POETRY & ART Created in collaboration with ClemenGold
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Citrus Inspired
Word Art
A CO M PIL ATIO N O F S O U TH A FR ICAN P OE T RY & ART
Cre a te d i n co lla b o ra ti o n w i t h C l emenG o l d ®
01
Contents
I N T R ODUC TIO N 03
P O ET RY & F E ATURED ARTWORK *
*Artwork by Alex Hamilton 04 Appassion-naartjie by Ashley Dowds 18 Unforgettable by Sally-Ann Murray 29
Light and Rain by Jim Pascual Agustin 05 Clementine deur Gaireyah Fredericks Die gedagte van iets deur Nadine Petrick 30
Naartjie by Diana Ferrus 19
My tangariene, mandaryne, My klementyne *Artwork by Karina Marie Pienaar
deur Deniel Barry 06 *Artwork by Jenny Parsons 20 The Naartjie by Glenn William Read 31
Nartjiegenot deur René Bohnen 07 A naartjie by any other name…. by Barry Ger 21 *Artwork by Marike Kleynscheldt 32
*Artwork by Johann du Preez 08 Almost by Jillian Hamilton ClemenRym deur Martli Slabber 33
Praise poem to the naartjie by Bruce Haynes 22
A Naartjie in Our Sosatie* by Rob Boyd 09 Segments of Sunshine by Melissa Sussens 34
*Artwork by Collen Mashwanganyi
In die boord deur Melanie Carstens *Artwork by Karin Abedian 23 afourer by Archie Swanson
What We Need by Jamie Conway 10 a redolence of winter by Sue Woodward 35
Gebaster met ‘n nartjie deur Niël Jonker 24
The naartjie by Mandy Crooks 11 Sunrise with naartjies by Stephen Symons 36
Nartjie – ‘n Haiku deur Dalena Lombard
*Artwork by Alex Hamilton 12 *Artwork by Joshua Miles 25 School Holidays by Jarred Thompson 37
Ma’s naartjies by Kirsten Deane 13 Lunch Box Delight by Michelle Luffingham 26 oranje is ons heimwee deur
Johann van der Walt 38
Naartjie by Gail Dendy 14 *Artwork by Jaco Sieberhagen 27
Hi Sweetypie - Naartjie My deur
*Artwork by Christiaan Diedericks 15 The Mother of All Naartjies by Peet Zeeman 39
Sally-Ann Murray 28
Mending the Marriage by Gail Dendy 16 Artwork by Sarah Pratt 40
ClemenGold se Royals deur
Naartjie Love by Ashley Dowds 17 Anmiray Opperman 29 02
I N T R ODUC TIO N Citrus Inspired Word Art In a time when creative and performing artists worldwide were challenged by the restrictive realities created by the COVID-19 pandemic, ClemenGold®, a truly South African citrus brand with a heart for the arts, encouraged wordsmiths to use citrus, or the humble naartjie, as the inspiration for poems, prose or short stories. “A nation is as rich as its creative output,” says Abraham van Rooyen, Executive Chairman of the ClemenGold® Group. “The arts in all its forms push boundaries, broaden horizons, capture, explore and create pure beauty and joy to both creators and observers.” ClemenGold®, South Africa’s most recognisable and loved mandarin brand and its leaders are known as patrons of the arts, having supported various artists and cultural initiatives in the past. 33 works were chosen that best captures the imagery, metaphor, playfulness, humour, sensuality, nostalgia and sense of home and belonging that a naartjie ignites. The paintings and other visual art works shown here were created during a previous collaboration with ClemenGold®. 03
A LEX H A M I LTON Fo llow @alexp o par t 04
Light and Rain
JIM PAS CUAL AG U STI N
To l i ste n to t h e po e m on S ou n d C l ou d , c l ic k h e r e .
Rain speckles the windscreen and the glass
windows, playful tapping without a rhythm.
The drops mingle to form bigger drops
before sliding down into the rubber gaps
that hold the glass in place. Exhaust fumes
coil from pipes under us and every other
minibus taxi stuck in shudder-stop traffic.
The mountain, a shape suddenly darker
than the skies that mask the time of day.
It would be so much easier to surrender
the mind to the limits of the body,
let frustration rub against the nearest stranger.
But then a giggle from a little girl
pricks my ears. I turn to her.
“Mama, look at the lights!” She is tugging
at a woman who has fallen close to sleep.
An orange globe rests in the girl’s
left hand as she points with her right.
The woman shifts out of slumber.
“The lights are clinging to the windows!
They look like my naartjie!” Laughing,
the girl digs her thumbs into the fruit,
releases in such a small and crowded space
more than just a scent. Something unexpected,
something I didn’t know I needed.
05
My tangariene,
mandaryne,
My klementyne
D E N I E L B ARRY My tangariene, mandaryne, ek wil jou tog so graag bewaar
To lis ten to th e poe m o n S o u n dCl o u d, cli ck h er e . My klementyne sodat alle generasies jou kan ervaar
Jy laat my in tale praat want met jou is daar geen hoekoms
want jy my naartjie, is tog so na aan my hart net ’n baie, baie mooi toekoms
my hart klop wild as ek na jou kyk My tangariene, mandaryne,
Jy kan my glad nie ontwyk my soete klementyne
Jy is net te poenankies* Jy laat my in tale praat
met jou oranje sonskyn wangetjies want jy is na aan my hart
Jy’s ferm, tog sag en onvermydelik My tangariene, mandaryne,
ek smag om jou sommer vas te druk Ja, my soete klementyne
in my hande wil ek jou vashou Jy laat my in tale praat
laat jou soet reuk vir ewig aan my vasklou want jy, my liefste naartjie is tog so na aan my hart
Ek wil my lippe teen jou voel *poenankies – mooi
laat my mond met jou soet sap oorspoel
Want jy’s my voor, my hoof, my nagereg,
jou goedheid neem al my herfs tot lente kwale weg
My tangariene, mandaryne,
My klementyne
Jy laat my in tale praat
want jy, my liefste naartjie is na aan my hart
Jy glinster soos die oggend sonskyn
en laat al my sorge verdwyn
jy bring soveel vreugde
in alle dele en aspekte van my lewe
06
Nartjiegenot
R EN É B OH N E N
To lis ten to th e poe m o n S o u n dCl o u d, cli ck h er e .
ryp wintersfeer vir afskil-smul,
poeding, blatjang, bola, vrugtesmeer
of ‘n sitrusdans wat in die glas gebeur
bessieblydskap gin; maar begin, begin
by die begin
‘n nartjie is ‘n ronde dorpie
vol oranje huisies,
dit weet die kleuters mos
‘n nartjie maak ‘n sonkol in jou
maag, ‘n sonkol in jou hart –
die soet planeetjie sap
is ‘n ligfluisteraar
dis geelrooi lettergrepe in die sonsondergang,
‘n gesmokkelde boodskap van die gode
in groen bome, oesdans ouer as ‘n duisend jaar
wanneer die stippels kleur en wolke geur
heelalle
in jou boorde van blydskap hang
07
JO HAN N D U PREEZ 08
A Naartjie in Our Sosatie*
R O B B OYD
To l i s te n to t h e p oe m on S ou n d C l ou d , c l ic k h e re .
A snapshot on the rocks
Four students stand together * The title of this poem, A Naartjie
They squint at the sun in Our Sosatie, is borrowed from
Smile happily for the camera an album title, put out by Shifty
Years later it is rainy and cold Records; a “compilation of South
Look, I’m middle-aged now, and ignored African rebel rhythms”. Released in
Waiting in a lawyer’s office the mid-1980’s, during the height
The receptionist peels a naartjie. of Apartheid, one of the songs on
It is the citrus scent, no doubt the album, Hou My Vas Korporaal,
That triggers this warm memory was by Bernoldus Niemand, the
Sends me looping back in time alter ego of James Phillips, who
Recalling youth, sunshine and music performed a concert with his band
Naartjies and Tassenberg for breakfast, The Cherry Faced Lurchers at the
The sea breeze just picking up Brass Bell in Kalk Bay; I was there
Waiting for the music to begin and I try to recall here in the poem.
At the pub which juts into the sea James was a barefoot rebel singer/
A barefoot rebel poet savant songwriter and poet of
Emerged from the hinterland immense talent.
Stalked the ruling regime with lyrics
Challenged us all, then left too soon.
I remember it as Summer
And a perfect day
But this is now, I stuck around
(The bored receptionist calls my name)
09
In die boord
What We Need
M EL A N IE CARSTENS
To lis ten to th e poe m o n S o u n dCl o u d, cli ck h er e .
‘n Suid-oostewind suis JA M I E CO NWAY
Deur die jongman se kop To l i s te n to t h e p oem o n S o un d C lo ud , c l ic k he re .
Die dou verdamp stadig
Soos hy na haar kyk deur die nartjies
Haar arms soepel, lenige takke I don’t think I really understand
Wat na die son oprank what I want out of life anymore.
En vrug dra
Versigtig, een vir een, She said, “What we have in life
Na die mandjie aan haar buik is dependent on what we don’t.”
Hy soek in haar perfek-ronde gesig
Die verborge saad van belofte I said, “Well, what do I really have?
Hy ruik haar bloeisels, die sitrusson I feel empty, just waiting to be filled.”
Vars in die vroegoggend
Hy kyk na haar deur die blare She tossed me a naartjie from the cupboard,
Hulle ritsel “You didn’t have one of these before, did you?
Sy kyk op, sien hom deur die nartjies
In die oggendgloed-oranje Now you have something to hold
Hy kyk af, bloos something to look at and something to eat.
Sy mandjie is net halfvol
Hy pluk verwoed Something to help you grow a little
Eendag, eendag weet hy and something that’s sweet. It’s simple.”
Sal hy die pad na haar hart oopskil
And what could be more simple
than a single juicy naartjie in my hands?
Maybe one sweet naartjie is indeed
all that I’d ever want, or ever need.
10The naartjie
M A N DY C R O O KS
To l i s te n to t h e p oe m on S ou n d C l ou d , c l ic k h e re .
Today I watched a baby play
with a naartjie
she had her way
in her fist she held it tight
and squeezed it
with all her might
with bright delight the juice ran down
out the fruit
along her arm
then to her mouth she’d lift it up
and drip the juice
into her cup
so much joy was to be found
from this orange flesh
so soft and round
That naartjie taste
like no other
on this day she did discover
11A L EX H AM ILTON Fo llow @alexpopar t 12
Ma’s naartjies
KIRSTEN DEANE
To l i ste n to t h e po e m on S ou n d C l ou d , c l ic k h e r e .
My sister and I came through the back door. We were sharing
a cigarette in ma’s backyard.
A no-name brand because times have been tough.
My sister says she lus for naartjie because there’s a plastic bag
of naartjies in the washing room. I don’t understand why ma would keep
naartjies in the washing room.
My sister and I walk to the living room where everybody’s sitting in conversation,
aunties, uncles, cousins and parents.
My sister asks a rhetorical question but ma doesn’t know the difference.
“Ma, are those naartjies in the washing room?”
The smell of the naartjies were too common to the both of us
for us not to know what they were. We eat naartjies
at three in the morning when we can’t sleep
and our stomachs remember that we forgot to eat.
“You can have one my baby,” Ma says.
I tell my sister she must keep me a piece.
“Get Kirsty her own one,” Ma says.
I say thank you and I eat the naartjie
with sticky fingers and a watery mouth.
I swallow, taste ma’s love from the washing room.
13Naartjie
G A I L DE N DY
To l i s te n to t h e p o em o n S o un d C lo ud , c l ic k he re .
A fruit with tangerine wings.
A fruit that’s easily dislodged
like a cupcake from its paper frill.
A fruit as bright
as a string of Chinese lanterns
reflected in water, glass bowls, antique silver.
A fruit with a décolletage
that’s hidden until peeled,
like a young girl
taking ownership of her womanhood.
A fruit inking its scent
in the room that remembers
brothers, the homeless, the bohemian,
the I just want you to love me
all-weather bellwether types.
A fruit that carries inside it
the geometry of a particular belly,
an array of orange pillows
neatly cosseted in a bright cocoon.
This fruit is ready and plump and ripe.
No more, no less. I want it. Do you?
14C HRI STI A A N D IED ER ICKS Fo l l ow @ ch ri s t i aan di ederi cks f i n ear t 15
Mending the Marriage
G A I L DE N DY
To lis ten to th e poe m o n S o u n dCl o u d, cli ck h er e .
I do not know when I began What’s to tell? The doctor,
to be so visceral. Green I’d been, good, kind, smart and true, in lieu
but then my body altered of anaesthetic, picked me above all else,
its proportions. and with a gleaming pocketknife
For months the doctor severed my stem truly and so well.
(good, bald, lean) I slipped into his open palm.
had ministered potions at my feet: The unflowering was done.
magnesium, copper, boron – My flesh aroused a glowing scent.
it was better than frankincense and myrrh. My honey-coloured blood was spent.
I loved the smell. How well
he tended me, promised me Was the dull wife satisfied with this?
a home for life, a berth. Long they bickered into the night,
faced opposite sides when they went to bed.
In the background, his solid wife: And so my purpose was not yet done.
Mind to check the moisture On the morrow I willed her heart to shine,
is all she said. I put a tingling taste upon her tongue,
arranged a subtle fragrance round about.
When the pickers came, I leant I offered up my pith, my skin, my juicy flesh
through leaf-green walls to bring her humour in. She softened, glowed,
to hear their gossip. Such goings on! reached for her man. What’s to tell?
A startled starling tipped Her sweetness is known in all the land.
the orchard’s serried rows, then flew beyond.
I was not ready yet. Time would fling
its colours at my cheeks. My belly, fat,
slightly puckered, would one day
match the Willendorf’s. I was proud of that.
16Naartjie Love
AS H LEY D OWD S
To listen to th e p o em o n S o un d C lo ud , c l ic k he re .
A land-urchin
Clustered in orangeness,
Robed in the colour of joy,
Sheds its skin
Like petals,
Willing the intercourse
of flesh and tongue;
Its white
Umbilical threads
Of veined, lacy sinews
Promises unspoken
Friendship,
And in a juicy gesture of love
Comes apart
In a tumescent
Sigh of fragrance
As honest
As
prayer
17Appassion-naartjie
A S HL EY DOWD S The name itself With biltong and rusks,
To lis ten to th e poe m o n S o u n dCl o u d, cli ck h er e . Proceeds it, Or even spiked sacrilegiously with vodka
Forthright in its terroir As contraband
No citrus bowers proclaim THIS citizen On rugby stands.
At Versailles:
It shrugs off the rhyme It is ordinary as a donkey cart
Of an Orangerie! On a Karoo pass at sunset;
As spellbound as the Ceres rockscape
Rather, it finds kinship In its sacrament of light and reassurance
In cardamom, clove and That lingers,
piesang; And as present
In its allegiance with As the young boy at the back of the cart
East Indian Tradewinds Watching his fingers puncture
Or the call to prayer The compliant rind,
As sky lightens over Bo-Kaap Shedding petals of colour
On the dusty pass
It precludes Like clues to a mythic Past
The brazen sting of the orange - the memory
On the tongue; Of watermeide,
Shuns even the bladed Those seductive
Cross-cut: an unnecessary obligation Sirens of the Swartland.
In its sacrament of communion.
It ushers its own Ubuntu
In the willingness
Of flesh: those sacks of gold
And liquid ore,
Chucked nonchalantly into
side-pockets and onto snoek-skiffs
Or rucksacked up
Devil’s Peak
18Clementine
G A I REYAH FRE DERIC KS
To lis ten to th e poe m o n S o u n dCl o u d, cli ck h er e .
Ek trek djou vel af
en ontbloot djou dun wit lagie wat djy probeer wegstiek.
Naartjie
Djy lyk afgerond en vol van jouself.
Ek wonne of ek nóg van djou wit sal kan afskilver. DI A N A FE R R U S
My ma’t altyd gesê dit gie wit-seerkeel To l i s te n to t h e p oem o n S o un d C lo ud , c l ic k he re .
en is typically die eienskap van ‘n ‘naachie’.
My mond water, here you came a native from southeastern asia
ma ek beheer my tong. flamed your orange onto the soil
Ek byt my lip. lit up the expanse and sprayed your aroma
Djy sal djou saak moet stel deep into the valley
met hiening om djou bek gesmeer Mevrou.
when frost approached the vineyards fled
Djy skuif-skuif nade, a smooth grape wrinkled but you
ma foseer nie jouself became the sun, a morning glow
in my keel affie. an afternoon warmth
Ek appreciate’ie gesture. a sunset tenderness
Djy gie toe in mondjies vol a soft skin, easy to undress
en ek verteer amper te gulsig, and sweet sweet syrup that flooded the lips
soveel so, my mond trek water.
you lingered long after consummation
By nou het djy al djou ware kleur ontbloot became a moment always hankered for
en dit kom nogal nechies verpak in sakkies vol. please never leave
Dié friendship stane kry nou smaakvol gestalte hier you were reborn in Africa
en ek moet sê…
ek was skepties aan die begin,
maar djy issie sout werd.
“Aangename kennis Clementine.”
19J EN N Y PA R S ON S
Fo llow @ jennyparso nsar t
20A naartjie by any
other name….
BA R RY GE R
To lis ten to th e poe m o n S o u n dCl o u d, cli ck h er e .
Orange, round and honey- sweet,
A tangy, tart-tasting treat,
Is this citrus that first grew,
In the Chinese city of Whenzhou.
Imports to the west began,
Through a province in Japan.
This is why many a consumer,
Knows it by the name: Satsuma.
Confused by others it has been,
With its cousin, the tangerine,
Which had years before been brought,
From Tangier, a Moroccan port.
In the UK, it is sold by dealers,
Among the fruit known as “easy peelers”.
Elsewhere is it dubbed the mandarin,
Because of its ancient Asian origin.
So many terms for a simple food,
But in South Africa, folks aren’t in the mood,
To use words which are stiff and starchy,
For us, it’s just the plain, old naartjie.
21Almost
JIL L IAN H AM ILTO N
To lis ten to th e poe m o n S o u n dCl o u d, cli ck h er e .
naartjies smell so good
Praise poem to the naartjie
like orchards in the summer
wisps of aromatic citrus vapours B R U C E H AYN ES
To l i s te n to t h e p oem o n S o un d C lo ud , c l ic k he re .
naartjies look so good
gently moulded rounds
tinted by the sun You are encapsulated fire.
fashioned to fill a hand You take our sun’s heat
and make something sweet
naartjies taste so good to eat
like stolen fruit You miracle worker!
savoured on nights of secret pleasure What genius possessed you
to flush fire
i peeled a naartjie across the skins
and raised it to my mouth of your swelling citrus stars?
in its wholeness You reach out to us
anticipating the sweetness on my tongue and say
stickiness at the corners of my lips here
pick me
but i dropped it peel me
and it rolled away taste the liquid light
beyond my reach I’ve suspended within
drip
South Africa’s sunlight
down your chin.
22CO L L EN MASHWANGANYI KA R I N A B E DI A N Fo llow @colle nmaswan g a nyi Fol l ow @ kari n ab e d i an 23
Gebaster met ‘n nartjie
NIË L JON K E R
To lis ten to th e poe m o n S o u n dCl o u d, cli ck h er e .
Kom gou paaltjie toe En waar ek eers gekoes het vir law enforcement
teks my buurvrou oorkant die pad kry ek gister kuiergaste sonder maskers
wat dan nou sy’s mos bietjie moeilik die kinders bou fort op die damwal
die suurlemoen is baie soet sê sy ek braai snoek en maak patats soos my ma
hulle’s gebaster met ‘n nartjie hulle bring koek van amandelmeel
So gaan dit aan dwarsdeur die lockdown Kom gou paaltjie toe
paaltjie toe met ‘n brood dis ‘n hele skinkbord vol soetkoekies appeltert en nog wat
- bybaksel van my kursus eendag is die boom leeg ek moet kom vat
nou ook aanlyn soos als die suurlemoene is baie soet sê sy
en terug met ‘n gebreide mus of bord kos hulle’s mos gebaster met ‘n nartjie
van bespiegel oor siekte en reëls
tot presidentsredes sonder twak
dorpstrate skoon ongemaklik
bly tuis en gaan aan
tot levels val en reëls onvolgbaar vervaag
24Nartjie – ‘n Haiku DALEN A LOM B AR D heiligsoet beloftes jou geurige huid betower songeel verleidster J OS H UA M I LES Fo llow @ jo shua_miles_ar tist 25
Lunch Box Delight
M I C H ELLE LUFFING HAM
To lis ten to th e poe m o n S o u n dCl o u d, cli ck h er e .
The Bell rings – brrrriiing ..
Shrieks of yayness!
A stampede of feet and untamed energy
Rummaging, … I find your cool fullness …
… there!
Nail to skin,
you peel away
with ease arousing a fresh, uplifting aroma,
and in my burst of hungry excitement –
I let go,
Gravity does the rest as
the peels return to earth.
For a brief moment,
I delight in your symmetry,
Perfect shapes of fleshy bliss.
Burst - the first injection of sweet juices
Ignites my desire for another and another of you
My friend’s eyes loom large
Gingerly, I share a piece of my treasure,
Giggle
My spirit soars,
My body dances,
As I relish the juicy, delish, scrumptiousness of simply,
a homegrown naartjie.
Without, even knowing.
26JACO SIE B E RH AG EN Fo llow @ ja cosie be rha g e n 27
The Mother of All Naartjies
S A L LY-AN N M URRAY
To lis ten to th e poe m o n S o u n dCl o u d, cli ck h er e .
Clementine is an old folk song back then when she peeled
Tangerine is a deep orange colour the skin a sudden tang
Mandarin is an ancient tongue bared the flesh she slipped
but Naartjie is my mother her false teeth out picked two
segments and wedged the fangs
between grinning lips:
how we kids screamed. Ran s c at ter e d
heartbeats thumping
against skintight inner drums
Then how she stalked us one by one
with red snarling gums, our guts
gripped by terrified delight.
How one by one she killed
each glowing lamp in the little flat
the only light left her ghostly torch
lit grim and ghastly beneath a determined chin
dripping juice
sticky trail
Such delicious hiding and seeking, leaping
and shrieking till at last all was spent.
Then we washed hands, sat at the enamel kitchen table,
said grace, and ate our mince, mash and peas.
(Slowly. Because: Mind Your Manners! And: No mixing food into mush!)
On top of the humming fridge was a chipped blue bowl,
piled high with simple truth:
if we were good, pudding would be the sweetest naartjies
always she saved the best for last
always kept the love for ever after
28ClemenGold se Royals
A N M I RAY OPPERMAN
To lis ten to th e poe m o n S o u n dCl o u d, cli ck h er e .
Unforgettable
“Naartjies,naartjies hies hulle nou
Bring ’n bak en ek skil hulle vijou “
“Nakkies! Nakkies! hoeveel kos daai naartjies ?”
S A L LY-A N N M U R R AY
“Praat antie vani Mangerines of ie Tangerines?” To l i s te n to t h e p oem o n S o un d C lo ud , c l ic k he re .
“Nee,O jinne ! Ma die goed het smart name
Hoe smaak hulle?” My father’s very old now.
He forgets all sorts of things.
“Soet my antie, stroep soet! Even me, sometimes.
Die mangerines is manageable skil vi skil
En die tangerines!...Oooo ...sy, sy! tango in die keel af But he’s still a big naartjie fan.
Met ha goud geel stroopie He picks a naartjie over
Stroop soet...” other fruit, any day.
“ O, ma jy neh Nakkies. Kan jou oêk lekke Why do naartjies mean
Verbeel” so much to you? I ask
Why do you love them so much, Dad?
“Nee antie, is true
Hies nog ‘n Clementine oêk Naaaaartjies? he savours the word
Dié naartjies ko nie meti lag deuri aloud. Then silence, except for chewing.
Hulle is Royal, hulle ko van His hands shake as he peels another.
CLEMENGOLD”
Maybe that’s the point.
“Clemengold!... rêrig!? Ja antie He never needs to think about naartjies.
nou ko ek maak gou jou job easy He just loves to eat them.
al jou naartjies: is sold “
Old habits die hard,
people say. And this one
I remain so grateful for. 29Die gedagte van iets
NA D IN E PE T RICK
To lis ten to th e poe m o n S o u n dCl o u d, cli ck h er e .
“Jy bewe soos ’n riet.” in my wimpers en op my wang. Dit laat jou lag. Jy vee
Jy staan in my kamerdeur. Jou lyf is hoendervel, jou met jou vinger oor my gesig en druk jou vinger in my
mondhoeke blou van koud. mond.
“Kom, klim in.” “Proe dit na iets?”
Ek gooi die deken halfpad oop sodat jy langs my kan “Dit proe soos die gedagte van iets,” antwoord ek.
inskuif. Ek raap jou op en gooi my arm om jou, trek jou “Watse gedagte?”
styf teen my vas. Die agterkant van jou bobene en jou Ek draai op my rug.
boude brand ys teen my geslaapte lyf en die vel in jou “’n Olieverwarmer wat druppend warm word. ’n Ou
nek is klam teen my ken. pienk kombers. Bruin blare op geel gras. ’n Dag se lê
“Hoekom gaan jy uit sonder ’n warm ding? Die son is op die bank en Wimbledon kyk terwyl jy eintlik moet
nog nie eers behoorlik op nie.” leer vir ’n Wiskunde-eksamen. Wintervakansies met
Jy antwoord nie, jou lyf ril net teen myne. corduroy-broeke en jou broer se ou blou trui.”
Ons lê lank so. “’n Gedagte van klein wees?” vra jy.
Ek voel hoe die lewe terugklim in jou murg. Soos ’n pot “Dalk,” antwoord ek. “Maar miskien ’n gedagte van vry
sop uit die yskas wat stadig opgewarm word, als wat wees.”
styfgestol was, raak weer sag en verteerbaar. Jy draai op jou sy, jou kop op jou hand. Met die ander
Jou asemhaling word reëlmatig. Jy loer oor die afgrond hand vee jy die stukkie nartjieskil saggies oor my lippe.
van droomland. Nét voor jy afspring, draai jy om. Kyk “Is jy depressed?” vra jy.
my in die oë en glimlag. Jy vee ’n krul hare uit jou gesig “Ek glo nie,” sê ek, “dalk net melankolies.”
en wriemel uit my greep. Jy leun vorentoe. Soen my saggies teen my slaap.
Op my bedkassie lê die skille van ’n nartjie. Jy tel ’n “Hoekom was jy buite?” vra ek en kyk na jou.
stukkie op en druk. Fyn nartjie-mis hang vir ’n kort “Ek wou nog ’n nartjie vir jou pluk,” sê jy, en klim weer
oomblik in die lug. Jy buig die skil weer en weer en onder my arm in.
maak klein wolkbrekies van lekkerruikreën in die
kamer. Die koue oggendson beur verbete deur ’n
skrefie tussen die gordyne. Druppeltjies vang ’n lift
op ’n flou sonstraal. Dit blink soos sterre, net voor dit
verskiet.
Jy vat ’n groter stukkie skil en draai weer terug na my.
Druk die skil voor my gesig. Die nartjiereën gaan sit
30KARINA MARIE PIENA A R
Fo l l ow @ka ri n a m a ri e pi e n aar
The Naartjie
GLE N N WIL L IAM READ
To liste n to th e poe m o n S o un dCl o ud, cli ck h e r e .
The mandarin is an ancient fruit
From which we bred all citrus loot -
Any lemon, lime or pomelo
Can rightly call it daddy-o.
But oddly-paired with this fruit’s name
China’s northern tongue’s the same,
So here in our great Southern land
We chose to give this fruit a hand
The homegrown name on its ID-kaartjie
Is none other than the famous naartjie.
31M A RIKE KLEYN S CHEL DT Fo llow @marike .kleyn sch e l d t . a r t 32
ClemenRym
M A RTL I S L A B B E R
To l i s te n to t h e p oe m on S ou n d C l ou d , c l ic k h e re .
Herringboxes without topses dra die swagman se nooi
en Bolandse meisies is lieflik getooi
Nartjiegeur sprei hartsverlange
skil knak sproeireën brand-oranje
Oranges en lemons
lui die klok van Sint Clements
Boegoe, narsing, koekmakranke
geure maak hul eie klanke
Wat beter as die nartjie-wysie
van jou hart se lieflingmeisie
Hier, my liewe ver-land-kind
met geur en klank en kleur gebind
stuur ek vir jou g’n rooiborsduif
berggans is te raserig
maar hierdie boksie soet jolyt
troos vir benoude kloostertyd
‘n proesel van ons bakermat
as mandaryn-kwatryn vervat:
Winter-son se vroeë byt
en herfs se malse soetigheid
33Segments of Sunshine
M E L I S S A SU S S EN S
To l i s te n to t h e p o em o n S o un d C lo ud , c l ic k he re .
Beneath warm winter I have shared you
sunshine you gift yourself with friends and lovers,
eagerly to me; your skin have hoarded your glow
peeling back with ease. to satisfy only myself.
I always want more,
every segment of you Oh Tangerine,
pressed between my teeth. I will always bring
you home with me.
You stain my fingers
sunset and sticky
until I drip
with your burst.
I could gorge myself
on the sweet extravagance
of you, your bitter sheen
lingering through soap,
a perpetual reminder
of our time together.
Once, I strapped your golden
box to my red scooter
and raced back to my room
where I would marry
myself to your delicate sweetness.
34afourer
A RC H IE SWAN S ON
To lis ten to th e poe m o n S o u n dCl o u d, cli ck h er e .
from marrakech the road runs north
to where the foothills of the atlas fall
streams distilled of powder snow
carve layered sandstone canyons
to the desert plains below
imam’s plaintive call at break of day
first light sweeps last lingering stars away
rufous-breasted redstarts chatter in afourer groves
dew drops glint from dark green leaves
fragrance drifts through citrus trees
a berber shepherd with his crook in hand
herds goats to where the souk tents stand
a redolence of winter
wicker baskets filled with almonds dates and apricots
tomatoes olives nadorcotts S U E WO O DWA R D
a chanting goshawk circles in the burnished sky To l i s te n to t h e p oem o n S o un d C lo ud , c l ic k he re .
a constellation of orange planets in a dark green cosmos
small suns hanging thick in loosefitting jackets
the tang of citrus
I reach up, pluck soft gold, slip off the jacket
divide the segments, eat with mathematical precision
ah, an explosion of bittersweet
I squeeze the skin between thumb and finger
release the oil
rub it on my wrists
breathe
a redolence of winter
35Sunrise with naartjies
STE PH E N SYM O N S
To l i s te n to t h e p oe m on S ou n d C l ou d , c l ic k h e re .
Always from the east – a gathering
of countless paper cuts of sunlight
turning to deeper wounds,
that draw flame
until a brightness
grows over the waking of the house.
In drawing open the curtains –
the kitchen ignites,
the damp slicks of dreams
instantly evaporate
into first light,
as every sleep-fogged electron
spins to clarity
and habit.
An entire solar system rests on a dining table,
a jumble of planets that have misplaced their orbits
and surrendered gravity
to a porcelain embrace.
Each planet’s dimpled surface
polished to inflammable citrus,
so in passing,
they release the sweet scent
of a childhood
long spent.
36School Holidays
JA RRE D T H OM PS O N
To lis ten to th e poe m o n S o u n dCl o u d, cli ck h er e .
i. ii. iii.
In the morning we went to the veld to play, climbed In the afternoon we rationed our reading, peeled the In the evening we took off our Velcro clothing, stuck
that one tree and made a house of it, pretending no glue from spines and dissolved eyes in inkwells. My the ends of facecloths between toes and in earholes.
one saw. Then, jumping down, we raced to the edge mother said it’d be good for us to stretch our minds Taking a closer look, we glimpsed the pink of our
of the veld and looked out over the place where to see what isn’t there. I read about a fruit so evil that nailbeds—a tight space we couldn’t get to. Somehow,
everything falls down. Heat broke out of our foreheads when you drew its skin back it would spray citrus into we knew reaching that deep would hurt. Then, in our
(and the clouds too) while we took brunch in our the atmosphere, calling you back to your nakedness: pj’s again, we ate more of that huddled fruit, stripping
mouths—freeing violent orange through our teeth. those layers and layers of sensitive hair. and popping segment by segment, learning about the
Orb of seed and juice Clinging to your sweet pleasure of little sips. You said you hated the pulp; that
eaten before the kiss. other who rights the ruin you’d give anything not to have that stringy feeling in
Speak in scents untamed. of your ripened rind. your mouth. I said you need that stringy feeling; that
that is what holds it all together.
Play on the scales of
my tongue; root me in-between
the leaves and naartjies.
37oranje is ons heimwee
JOHANN VAN DE R WA LT
To l i ste n to t h e po e m on S ou n d C l ou d , c l ic k h e r e .
op jou stoep in potchefstroom skuins voor winter nou is die stoep leeg geafdak onder dieselfde duiwekoer
waar jy ‘n nartjie opgelig het in antwoord op die flou son jou stoel bleek en stom en die middagson skaam
het jy gesê dat as ons hierdie wêreld wil oorleef jy is haas oppad per trein na die ewigheid
dit nodig is om die lewe se bitter kwistig af te skil die oranje oomblikke in potchefstroom los wel sy nasmaak-
sy norspeule sonder verweer weg te skeur op my kombuistafel slaap ‘n nartjie in die vrugtebak
en die soet heimwee uit elke teer oomblik só skil ek die hartseer en koester herinneringe van goud
soos sitrusskywe van herinnering af te sluk
die lewe is soos ‘n nartjie
tussen die middagskaduwee en aandkoelte aanvaar beide die bitter en soet
luister jy hoe die duiwe sin aan die wêreld terugkoer dis hoe ons bly oorleef
oorkant hang die kerkklok lankal dor en wanneer die seisoene draai sal ons ook groet
jy kyk na die vrug geanker op jou palm en sug
dis tog wat die lewe werklik is nie waar?
‘n nartjie-planeet van bittersoet
ons weet goeie tyding kom nooit alleen
díé vrug kweek waarde uit elke seisoen
maar dis die harde skil wat die winter weghou
tog na die kraakvars spritz wat selfs die oë laat brand
volg ‘n sondelose somer wat blywend smelt in jou mond
38Hi Sweetypie -
Naartjie My
PEET ZEEMAN
To l i ste n to t h e po e m on S ou n d C l ou d , c l ic k h e r e .
Hi Sweetypie- Then all the houses
I remember well Of all my wishes
That night Went up in smoke
I first touched As you rolicked
The sweetness of you Around in my mouth,
Intimate it was. Filling my sense
The smoothness of your skin With a fresh breeze of orchards
Velvet soft Where birds meet and sing.
And lingering on my tongue,
Expectantly,
Sweetness of a kiss to come.
Orange was your bodice
Cut to fit your swelling little hips.
I remember the feel of your necklace
As I reverently
(In awe of your purity)
Undressed you to peep at
Your lacy flesh.
An oily spray of honey and roses
Bursting around me
Quickening my heart.
39S A R A H PRAT T Fo llow @pratt2516 40
S tre am a ud io poems fr om th e
C le m e nGold ® pa g e on SoundClo u d.
Ha p py listen in g!
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