Johan Fourie

...at dusk, at times
they arrive, the wolf pack
they came in stealth, silenty and quitely. just suddenly here
...knowing their purpose and my role
...

Did the loss of love, opportunity and dear ones stop us......:
...embracing the complexities and paradox of life with joy and passion?
....from dancing on the pavement, to the music of the rain and wind, under the stars?
....reaching out to those in want and need witholding our compassion, wisdom-, and hope for a better next time round?
...

Quote
Some people come into our lives and quickly go, while others stay awhile, leave footprints on our hearts, and we are never, ever the same.

Eleanor Roosevelt
...

aching, needy and yearning....
..for that alusive and inconcieveable place in space and time
....where it is possible to have it all
...is there such a place, where we can have it all?
...

Ek wil sit en verdrink in die sielvolle dieptes van jou oë; met my lippe saggies en ferm op joune jou geur en siel indrink; en verdwaal in die engele sang van jou bekoorlike stem; my met wellus vergryp aan die sensuele kurwes-, en beweeg van jou lyf, en lippe, en die kuiltjie in jou mond hoek…...en jy die mens met siel en intellek wat kan toor met woorde en drome gestalt in dialoog - oorspronklik die diep sielvolle jy wat in my dag drome loop

Ek wil my tong en lippe en asem laat streel soos 'n sagte koel-warm briesie oor elke millimeter van jou lyf en vel. Deur dit te beweeg- en te laat raak aan jou aora, die energie veld en ligaams hare se punte.
...

On hearing about powerful love, respond, be moved
like an aesthete. Only, fortunate as you’ve been,
remember how much your imagination created for you.
This first, and then the rest—the lesser loves—
...

ek't jou gemis, gisteraand, heelaand...
ek't gaan strepe trek en vertroos
hierdie ander oor hul verwagtinge dan nou lê aan jouse kant van grense
dan gebaken buite hul bestek van gee, en ok neem
...

I am but a humble man, plain as is......
This thing called love makes me to be

...master crafts man to craft rare and precious jewels for your breast an’ear
...

Ek is maar eenvoudige en nederige man......
Hierdie ding Liefde, maak my te wees.....

...meester vakman te skep skaars en kosbare juwele jou bors n’oor te versier
...

Capricious vagabond, so then I must be
Ignorant Lamb for the slaughter, so the object of my Love must be

Echoing whispers of disapproval and caution
...

At night the beast of remorse, sorrow and shame is released cause it’s dark
…..for I have made someone I love truly cry and despair
…….and I howl with the were wolves
...

I know not from where the poetry in me came
It come not from the streets
.....or the buildings, or the people I know, or books I read.
...it found me that year..1994
...

...this night, another night, some night, at dusk when the wolves gather as they always do
...and join the circle stealthily, familiar with the oness of those in the ring
...

my love, her spiritual body bowed in my arms.....,
the instrument and I, holding her, tenderly..., gently........,
the bow alternating arco, and then pizzicato glisandi,
with piccato producing such rich vibrato in the bowl of her mind
...

like the pleasant, sati’fying after-hum of a brass bell
the echo of words reverbate in my soul, even now
and a vibrato of the intent of words strums my heart, running rich in my veins
...

…die sax in die goedversorgde kunstenaars hande blaas die blues

...die man agter die sax wys soos Salomo, en dapper soos David
...

Love [friendship? ] is but like the wings of a butterfly……….
…………..so fragile, so vulnerable, but actually so significant and unimaginable flexible and strong
...

a stirring out there has shaken the cosmos and such energy waves has stirred interest in me, and I have meandered forth after lifting the lid on my box.....

and prose resulted........the stirring recalled memories of matter of value I'd thought had gone forever......
...

Soos met die eet van ‘n Baclava
Waar ek elke krummel en korreltjie soos ‘n kosbare kleinnood vertroetel op my tong
…en keer op keer wellustig rondrol in my kies, en gerig en doelgerig versigtig fyn kou
….sodat elke sintuig die geure van vêrafgeleë spissery roetes optower, beleef en in adem
...

Jy is so ontwykend soos misvingers....
in die wind op die son kant van die misbelt skuins voor ‘n koue front
…ek gaan jou bekoor en nuuskierig maak
En mag selfs besluit jou bang te maak dat jy angstig vlug
...