The Reading Room

Sometimes there’s the need to close all the doors,
The outside world’s nonsense, shut out, put on pause;
Settle down with a book in a comfortable chair,
And spend a hour or two just relaxing there. 

TPOTG Reading Room 02

In a favourite room, in a favourite house,
 Which good fortune allows me to call home,
Is where I escape and loose myself,
In a novel, or some historical tome.

The room, almost square, hushed by walls of thick stone,
Looks to the mountain that protects it so well,
 And its old well trodden, polished wood floor,
Must have many a tale it could tell.

Now shelves filled with books, pages full of words,
Sit in anticipation of their turn to be read.
And in my winged back chair I can often be found,
When I’ve swapped my garden for a good book instead.

Reference books nestle alongside those full of verse,
And novels, classic and modern, abound;
The history of the world is there to explore,
While biographies wait to be found.

A room filled with riches, of literary treasures,
 Some, their secrets have yet to be told,
And it’s there, with the books, that I immerse myself,
And let the magic around me unfold.


What’s A Stoep?

I use this South African word a lot – so just in case you don’t know what it means….


It’s like a porch, or veranda,
Or even a large balcony too,
A place to sit outside,
Maybe take in the view.
It could be in town,
Possibly out on a farm
Either way stoep sitting
Has its own special charm.

It’s a place to chill out,
A place to contemplate,
To drink coffee or tea,
To ponder life’s fate.
It’s where you drink wine
With friends who have gathered,
Or where you sit and snooze
When you just can’t be bothered.

Somewhere to quietly read a book,
When you’re in the mood,
Or to savour a plate
Of your favourite food.
It’s where gossip is updated
And opinions expressed,
And sunsets are watched
As the day’s put to rest.

TOOTG Copyright 2016-2020 01


Five minutes, just five minutes, …that’s all I wanted.
Is it asking too much?


The fly found me
As on my sunbed I rested,
Buzzing about my head,
My short fuse sorely tested.
Why flies? Why me?
Aren’t there other attractions?
All I wanted was five minutes
Without any distractions.

From my head to my arm,
From my arm to my knee,
This fly had decided
It rather liked me.
If its aim was to annoy
It was certainly succeeding,
All I wanted was five minutes
With the book I was reading.

I brushed it away,
But it still persisted,
And my very best swearing
It completely resisted.
At every new invasion
I felt its tingling touch,
Trying to bite or infect me?
It was all getting too much.

So I closed my chapter,
The plot would have to wait,
That annoying, buzzing fly
Had now sealed its fate,
And with the book I’d been reading
I now tried to swat it,
And after my five minutes of time
I finally got it.

TOOTG Copyright 2016-2020 01