Poem: Christ’s Ascension

On this day, Christ ascended high
To the heavens, beyond our sky
His earthly mission complete
In glory, He takes His seat.

With open arms, He bids farewell,
To His disciples, who could tell
That His love would never cease
As they spread His message of peace.

In awe, they watched Him disappear
But in their heart, He would be near
Christ’s Ascension, a sacred sight,
Filling the world with eternal light.

(Author Unknown)

Poem: How the rain has travelled

I live where it's dry

I live as a day comes,

Till this day I still do try.

These are hardship times.

Down they fall like tears.

Down to the ground it is

The drops of rain,

Just as my tears of pain

Watering the floors of grain

"Will sunlit skies or storms remain?" 

Asked the ground as if I'm not grounded 

Is it proud or was I shed and dead?

These are the trying times 

Of how it travelled!

See?! this is a storm of growth !

For such poems talk and mumble 

Just as the clouds rolled in and rumbled. 

[Israel Xaba 5 May 2026 - click HERE to read more inspirational poems.]

A poem for the matrics

“If you think you are beaten, you are
If you think you dare not, you don't,
If you like to win, but you think you can't
It is almost certain you won't.

If you think you'll lose, you're lost
For out of the world we find,
Success begins with a fellow's will
It's all in the state of mind.

If you think you are outclassed, you are
You've got to think high to rise,
You've got to be sure of yourself before
You can ever win a prize.

Life's battles don't always go
To the stronger or faster man,
But soon or late the man who wins
Is the man WHO THINKS HE CAN!”

[Walter D. Wintle]

Poem: To My Dearest Teacher

Many times I thought

you were wrong.

So many times I did not agree.

You open my eyes to see

that being wrong isn't bad.

In fact it is damn okay.

You taught me

not to be afraid

of feeling like I'm stupid,

because

I took an erroneous turn.

Thanks to you

I know no failure.

I just know how to learn.

[Sinazo] 

Poem: Israel Xaba's final good bye to ...

The earth called it's gold.

Called is the gold of dreams 

Held by a mind and heart 

Quiet is now, he who sleeps 

Where do one now start?

To speak of a life

So young and bright 

How the writing is bold

For it is seen of gold

And written of gold

Now he lies silent with a permanent smile 

Leaving behind shattered dreams of his mother's cries.

Called is the gold that 

Once held precious 

For now it returns to ground 

Farewell and be proud 

For he has been build on pressure 

Farewell ... Farewell

Tekkie (T.Leeuw) 

Poem: A Youth Day poem

The June 16th dawn, a somber hue,
Young hearts ablaze, a fearless view.
A march of hope, a vibrant call,
For freedom's dawn, standing tall.

Through streets of strife, they bravely trod,
Their voices raised, a faith in God.
A nation's dreams, a burning fire,
Fueled by their courage, reaching higher.

Though bullets flew, a chilling sound,
Their spirit soared, on hallowed ground.
A legacy forged, in blood and tears,
A lesson learned, through passing years.

Today we stand, in unity's embrace,
Inspired by them, with hopeful grace.
To build a future, strong and free,
For generations yet to be.

[Internet]

Poem: Look To This Day

Look to this day
For it is life, the very life of life.
In its brief course
Lie all the verities and realities of your existence.
The bliss of growth,
The glory of action,
The splendour of achievement
Are but experiences of time.

For yesterday is but a dream
And tomorrow is only a vision;
And today well-lived, makes
Yesterday a dream of happiness
And every tomorrow a vision of hope.
Look well therefore to this day;
Such is the salutation to the ever-new dawn!

[Kalidasa stands as a towering figure in Classical Indian Literature]

Cryer River

Not just a tear 

But a worst sight of fear

And not just a plea

But a hollow echo haunting me.

Cry me a river DEEP and WIDE

For all your 'memories' and mine

May it be DEEP and WIDE

For all shattered pictures of mine°

Cry me a river, bitter rain

For the taste is no longer the Same.

Let the banks erode and fall

With every memory I recall.

Cry me a river, dark and vast 

And let it be the mirror to the past

May it reflect shadows, cold and stark 

By the dark emptiness of your heart.

Cry me a river, let it flow

For pain is all I've known 

A vestige of unending grief.

A fragile heart that leaped beat.

The dampness deep 

Within my soul, will never sleep 

A silent will forever true

To the river I once cried for you. 

[Poet: Israel Xaba - click HERE to read more inspirational poems.]

Courageous Woman (Heart's Deep Tide)

Beneath the surface, where the heart's tides flow,

A quiet strength, a seed that dares to grow.

Not grand displays, nor battles fiercely won,

But whispered truths, where shadows softly run.

She wears no armor, forged in fiery blaze,

But carries scars, from life's intricate maze.

Each etched line, a story deeply told,

Of burdens borne, and spirits brave and bold.

She weeps in silence, when the world's asleep,

Where ancient sorrows, their dark vigil keep.

Yet, dawn's first light, finds courage in her eyes,

A resilience born, beneath weeping skies.

She builds her castles, not of stone and might,

But fragile hopes, that shimmer in the light.

Each tender brick, a dream she holds so dear,

A testament to conquering every fear.

She mends the broken, with a gentle hand,

A silent promise, in a troubled land.

She plants her flowers, where despair had reigned,

And nurtures life, where hope had been restrained.

She knows the weight of words that cut like steel,

The hollow echo, of what hearts conceal.

Yet, in her soul, a well of love resides,

A boundless grace, that forever guides.

She's the quiet whisper, in the storm's fierce roar,

The steady anchor, on a restless shore.

She's the hidden current, that shapes the ocean's sway,

The silent strength, that lights each passing day.

Courageous woman, let your spirit soar,

Unfurl your wings, and reach for something more.

For in the depths, where your true essence lies,

A heartfelt strength, that touches endless skies.

[Poet: Israel Xaba - click HERE to read another piece written by Israel called Extraordinary Women.]

Poem: The Fly

  The fly felt terrible as it flew around 

trapped in the car, Johannesburg bound.

  It hated the movement, the rolling on,

   sick to its stomach, it travelled on.

Stumbling, it flew from the back, to the front,

  to the side window, and into the trunk.

"Let me out, let me out, let me out!" it cried,

    holding its stomach, in surprise.

The car finally stopped. Its doors openend wide.

    Out flew the fly, with a huge sigh!

    "Never again will I venture inside,

 a moving vehicle that sways side to side."  

- Merril Wilson -

[Credits: Prince Albert Friend, Issue 318, September 2024, p. 12] 

Poem: Ass wee orl noe - Mary Peddie

There's a terrible absence of spelling

  In the ignorant world of today.

Perhaps people don't read, there's no telling,

  Or a robot has got in the way. 

It gives us a great deal to laugh at

  Though great irritation as well,

If you went to school in the old days

  You would also be able to tell. 

One can only laugh at translations.

  The robots are thick as short planks.

Some efforts are made to correct them

  But you'll never get any thanks.

    A century on from our era

Where wil reading and writing have gone?

    A dictionary in the museum?

 No! Bots will say that's all a con.

 The few humans left on the planet

Will have implants instead of a brain.

 But we needn't worry about it.

We're not coming this way again.

- Mary Peddie -

[Credits: Prince Albert Friend, Issue 318, September 2024, p. 11]

Poem: The Old Year

The Old Year’s gone away

  To nothingness and night: 

We cannot find him all the day 

  Nor hear him in the night: 

He left no footstep, mark or place 

  In either shade or sun: 

The last year he’d a neighbour’s face, 

  In this he’s known by none. 

All nothing everywhere: 

  Mists we on mornings see 

Have more of substance when they’re here 

  And more of form than he. 

He was a friend by every fire, 

  In every cot and hall— 

A guest to every heart’s desire, 

  And now he’s nought at all. 

Old papers thrown away, 

  Old garments cast aside, 

The talk of yesterday, 

  Are things identified; 

But time once torn away 

  No voices can recall: 

The eve of New Year’s Day
  Left the Old Year lost to all.

-John Clare 1793–1864-

[Click HERE for more info.]

Matrieks: Sterkte vir julle laaste eksamen

Hoër Tegniese Skool Welkom
In Welkom se hart, 'n bastion van leer,
Hoër Tegniese Skool, staan hoog en fier.
Waar kennis en vaardighede groei en bloei,
En jong geeste hul vlerke sprei en vlei.
In klaskamers en werkswinkels, 'n bedrywige bees,
Word toekomstige leiers en vakmanne gees.
Met hamer en beitel, soldeerbout en pen,
Word drome en ambisies hier bewaar en wen.
Van ingenieurs tot kunstenaars, 'n wye verskeidenheid,
Word hier opgelei, met passie en ywerheid.
'n Tuiste van innovasie en kreatiwiteit,
Waar elke leerder sy unieke potensiaal ontdek en verbreed.
Hoër Tegniese Skool Welkom, 'n bron van trots en vreugde,
Waar kennis en vaardighede vir die toekoms aangewend word.
'n Leërskare van geesdriftige jongmense,
Word hier voorberei om die wêreld te verower en te bemeester.

Matrics: Good luck for the NSC exams

Hoër Tegniese Skool Welkom
In Welkom se hart, 'n bastion van leer,
Hoër Tegniese Skool, staan hoog en fier.
A forge of minds, a crucible of skill,
Where dreams take flight and aspirations fulfill.
In workshops and classrooms, a buzzing hive,
Future leaders and craftsmen strive and thrive.
With hammer and chisel, soldering iron and pen,
Ambitions are nurtured, dreams are given wings to then.
From engineers to artists, a diverse array,
Are shaped and molded here, day by day.
A haven of innovation, a fount of creativity,
Where each learner discovers their unique capability.
Hoër Tegniese Skool Welkom, a source of pride and cheer,
Where knowledge and skills are honed year after year.
An army of eager, enthusiastic youth,
Are prepared here to conquer the world with truth.

Poem: Beauty - my queen

First time I saw you, I wouldn't believe my eyes

They laid on you, I couldn't move them

My whole body froze you are the one ...

My beauty, my queen!

I had never seen one like you

So beautiful, no one compares

A lady of my dreams, before my eyes

You, the one - my queen!

I rubbed my eyes with disbelief

Was it possible, an angel right here?

A heavenly rose on earth

The one - my queen!

Inside my dead heart, love blossomed

With a frozen body, my emotions ran high

And this, this was the end of celibacy

For you my queen, had arrived!

Like a diamond you shone

A well built lady, like no other

I had found someone to live for

For you my queen, had arrived

My lovely queen, had arrived!!

[Simon Seleteng: Universiteit van Pretoria, Taaibos-digbundel: Ontblotings Uitgawe 18 2003 p 37] 

More poems HERE  

Poem: Unwell

I smile to the world for it knows nothing
Of my cries nor it's thorns that hurt me.
It's trees are of beauty
For they attract many I see.

There they stood
And here they stay
For they are brawny
Rooted and Great

The wind is uncertain
For it's as my life, for I live as it comes
And reap solidity of coming times

In the heat of the star.
In such days I awake to win,
For in it comes delight
Where memories are made fun.

Why is it I speak by tears,
Accompanied by quavering voice?

Is it of the worlds spears or the thoughts of sly men?

For I have met many with gerund
Smiles and character
That dissemble motive.

Poem: A women's life

Early in the morning I wake up

I look up in the sky for strength 

I pray to GOD for Guidance

My face is dry and still I cry.

Will I ever be free? Will I feel true love?

My master who once said he loves me

He locked me up, and beats me.

His hands were once gentle 

His actions are unbelievable 

My man my HUSBAND 

Your hands destroyed me

I can't face My family 

I keep looking for sympathy

Our kids are afraid of you 

Your hands have destroyed me

I cook and clean.

I offer you food with a smile, like I'm happy

I wish you could see your heart that your need me 

But everytime you drunk you beat me

Your hands have destroyed me.

I remember the time I met you

You were so fine and handsome

I couldn't believe I'm with you

It was our time 'now or never'

I wish your mother was here

Because now I live with fear

Will I see another day?

Will I again say my prayers?

My master who beats me

My man my HUSBAND 

I can't move freely 

Your presence torments me 

When you walk next to me

You make me feel worthy 

Will you survive without me

Today I leave you

My man MY HUSBAND 

Will I ever miss you? 

[Tuesday, May 17, 2022]

Click HERE for more poems.

Poem: Melody of the caged bird

I know nothing other than my cage land

For I only fly onto my master's lap.

It is of great joy that I sing day by day,

For at least he thinks I am his friend.

My wings know nothing about the wind

For they are only visited by the blade of 2 hand scissor.

I shout my cries day in day out,

For they never reach the ground.

I see the smile on my master each day I cry.

My shouts are of melody to his ears

As if he's deprived of sight.

For there only comes a time where I'll leave my land tranquil.

For it made me timid 

From amazing souls

Which never passed without saying "hello"

It's of irony 

They greet as if they are to stay,

For my heart palpitate as it hears this phrase.

I see grove of trees where birds build homes 

For I only sit on stick 

Sip on water and sink in seeds.

My melody is what they like 

For I have cried like tribes of Palestine 

Where posters are made and seen

But nothing is to be done for thee

Melody of the caged bird.

[Click HERE for some more poems.]

They made us who we are ...

Why steal from them if they give us everything

Why kill them if they're the ones who gave us life
Why terrorise them if they kept us safe since birth
Why are they not safe even when in their homes

Why do we not realise that it is our turn
Our turn to take care of them
Our turn to stop abusing them
Our turn to say no to their killings

Our turn to be urged to take charge
Be urged to protect the kind that gave you life
Be urged to be a good example for your son or pals
Be urged not leave a void in someone's heart

Let us protect them, let us love them

They are our mothers, our sisters

[By Kgosana Moeketsi]

Poem: Juvenile

Time the ferocious swindler
That sits ticking on my hand
With every second that passes
Glides along my personable lad.

My Spring days are majestic,
With min friends I remain optimistic, 

of a future that is as young as I,
But soon changes by the hands of time.

Seconds into minutes my hunky appearance dwindle.
I resent the moments of sedentary, for time has saunterd
Into the land of sob and no laughter.
For now I witness fall by the scent of autumn.

And I can't return to the days
Of spring and laughter.
'Tomorrow' lie in the hands of juvenescence
For I wish it could be seen, like time on hand revolve on every hour.

[Israel Xaba: 16 June 2024]

[Click HERE for some more poems.]