Country Bazaar

Every year in October we venture out to a small village bazaar in the country. It is a happy affair with a quartet playing light music (boeremusiek) and a feast of stalls filled with enticing goodies. There is candy floss and sweets for the kids and home baked cakes, biscuits, rusks and bread for the discerning shopper.

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Today it was raining but that didn’t seem to put anyone off, and the long queues snaked in front of the tents. We squelched through the mud to get to the stalls.

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People turned up in wellington boots, carrying bright umbrellas.

They pulled out all the stops to entice us into the breakfast hut, with a lovely arrangement of flowers outside for decoration.

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I loved the pudding tent, with delicious treats hidden inside. I drifted in and almost felt like Alice in wonderland as the delights said “eat me”!

We went home carrying parcels of fresh meat and farm vegetables, as well as some sweet temptations….

Old Photographs (part one)

mary-child

Such memories
became faded pictures.
Recollecting her hopes
and sometimes
living her fears.

Looking towards tomorrow
an innocent child,
full of laughter
and brimming with dreams.

Waiting for him to return
never forgetting his face,
her Father.

He went away
to a faraway land
across the sea.
A place called America,
the land of the free
and the home of the brave.

Those big ships took him.

She waited for him
but he never came back.
He became a hopeless dream
of longing……

A dance of forgetfulness

dancing

It was a dance of forgetfulness
captured by a moment
the swirling movement
the rhythm and vibration
consumed by the melody

And then remembering
discotheque
sights and sounds
pulsating in words
speaking out loneliness
rekindling first love
sometimes
grieving love’s lost

Yet mourning turns to dancing
in an instant
of abstraction
sorrow repositions
and moves
into joy

©