The canvas of paper seeking food to be bitten
Chew, swallow, ruminate, utter, and listen
Forking through madness we have yet to be ridden
Grabbing the knife of reason as we cut off all the thoughts that hold us victim
So…we write …so that we can listen
As the silver found in clouds, hits against the crockery of being plated in…Yes, that old system
Of truths we are told are forbidden
Fears that aren’t covered in ribbon
I write…because sometimes the poem just wants to be written
Poetry not quite in poultry, proves we aren’t chicken
To lay ourselves bare,
Because writing has allowed me to be a gift to myself before I am given
…rids me of the desire to fit in
…because few have appreciated home cooked meals handwritten.
Lerato is a budding writer who is learning to find her voice. A lover of both numbers and words: she wears an auditor’s hat by day and writes as the sun sets.
Aspiring to publish a collection of poems, she is gradually giving herself over to the process. She is a passionate woman who enjoys being a wallflower: and so her inspiration comes from these. She loves watching people live and tell untold stories. She loves figuring out the beautiful chaos she holds inside.
