Irksome Clouds

By Abram O Mahlaba

Irksome Clouds is a book of African verse that approaches poetry with an open mind. Although the title of the book sounds like it will address the problems of global warming, it is just a book of free verse without the actual theme. Irksome Clouds is the poetry that endeavors to cherish the beauty of the South African national heritage and also questions whether the inter-racial post apartheid rainbow nation is ideal. The book also tries to mock the elite that enjoys the fruits of freedom and forgets the masses that elevated them to that upper stratum.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Sep 24, 2012
• ISBN: 9781479714858

Abram O Mahlaba

Abram Mahlaba is from South Africa. He is a Creative Writing graduate who also studied Freelance Journalism . He's got several articles published in the mainstream newspapers in South Africa and a couple of poems published in anthologies.He worked as a report writer for a marketing company and he's now a full time freelance writer for several sites on line. Abram writes to cherish the beauty of his South African national heritage and criticizes it where necessary. He’s blessed with two kids, Kim and Tokollo who are a great of his inspiration.

Book preview

1. Irksome Clouds

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Like a line of unwashed baby’s napkins,

Some clouds hang irksomely in the sky;

Blowing a perturbing air which unpins

The clouds, which in the sky begin to fly.

Like a line of yellow flowers,

Yellow birds limber up for a relay race:

They’ll bid if there’ll be rain or other interminable dry hours;

And mockingly, some swallows sidle on the sky’s face.

Like an industrial smoke, a perennial of some sort,

Those clouds gather gustily with gusto,

Guffaws a lightning amidst them with comfort

To release giant droplets from the sky’s itching udder;

Thirstily the earth wolfs down the fat drops

And the yellow birds would start to sing;

Swollen rivers would foam and feign anger,

Elephants’ trunks would protrude trees’ trunks

And sing like the raising kings

A joyful cock’s crow could now be heard,

The crow’s lament cawing no longer to be feared;

As if receiving a relay baton to finish up the race,

A cow would add her velvet voice to electrify the space

Thanks to the irksome clouds’ outburst

The earth has quenched her thirst.

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2. Foes of Vista

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The exquisite extensive view

Produced by the placidity of the crimson sun

Sitting amidst Leolo’s ¹green high pews

And the hypnotic bluish sky is dead my son;

It is killed by the hysteria of your murmuring goats,

The din of Lepelle’s ²grumpy toads,

The gamut of the wailing whistles of your ghost like pale