21 September 2017

How do I get my poetry published, and make money?

How to become a popular writer

27 August 2017


Vincent Van Gogh, the sunflower man
cut off his ear when Paul Gaugin
wouldn't stay to paint with him
in southern France.

I burnt my veil and wedding dress
scarred both my cheeks
tattooed rosettes
along my arms with cigarettes.

We both needed a man to stay.

You think it was
loneliness? I don't
think so. Madness
has always been my guess.
© Pamela Mordecai

Learn more:
-- geoffreyphilp.blogspot.com/2006/10/in-my-own-words-pam-mordecai.html
-- www.pamelamordecai.com
-- literaturealiveonline.ca/content/authors_database/pamela_mordecai.php

26 June 2017


Come, I want to sit on your lap
with my legs around your waist.
In a basket: beads, combs, oil, and shells,
so I can play with your hair.

I want to massage your scalp with oil until my fingertips feel it come alive.

With the fine-toothed comb I want to scrape specks of dandruff I find, then blow gently.

With the forked comb I want to part your hair this way and that way, expose your scalp, letting it breathe.

Come sit, it's time to play with your hair:
twist sections;
braid others;
tie a few;
adorn some with beads;
and others with those shells we picked on that day it all began.
~by Makhosazana Xaba

Makhosazana Xaba