Anne van Alkemade
A change of heart
Where is my home? Please change my mind. I’m so over the clutter and fuss. Far too many long years, I’ve watched mountains grow
The average household generates a lot of waste through packaging, and it worries me that recycling programs are not able to keep up with it all. So, I’m always looking for ways to use packaging, tins, and bottles in craft projects. Why buy art supplies when they’re already right here in our homes?
What does anyone need to say about the fondness they have for their grandma or the unconditional love a grandparent could bestow on their progeny? Sure, there are some shocking exceptions, but my grandma, who lived next door when I was growing up, represented so many things – most of all she provided a refuge from a troubled and sometimes fearsome father. My dad’s anger at the world is an entirely different story. This one is about how my grandma, gone since I was 16 years old, can hear my daughter bounce.
YEARNING Is that your voice I can hear a whisper barely heard, as trees that, wakened, toss their locks in restless night absurd?
It may seem today’s world spins faster than is fair, and all that everyone has to do gets way too hard to bear.
Dreams Once Dreamt
Who’s awake instead of sleeping Hears the click of old father time? Who is listening to rain that’s falling And cool, dark night, at peace sublime?
One of the loveliest sounds of joy Is the gentle purr of a chook Yes, chickens do purr, in a cluck kind of whirl And it’s the best in every book.
When a flower dies New fruits may come. When a bee dies Its work is done. When the grass dies And sinks in the ground