Nature’s Hands.


Natures’ Hands. ‘Earth’ is her hand’s shade, ‘Deep Orange’ goodness of soil is her bounteous palm Which in provident prosperity faces up t’wards the skies. Deep hands that labour the land, Deep hands that till, that rock, That stroke and layer fine soil grains. Warm hands with life -fertile- Warm hands that close up Germinating seeds in the dark A womb- Pitch black. Hands that rattle the clouds – rain poured out. Hands that gently press the leaves- dews oozed out. Nature’s Hands, Nature’s Hands. Nature’s hands sculpted, shaped mountains, Soaring heaps of splendour larger than life. She shaped valleys, water ways, The crevasses in the earth, the creeks And beds smoothed by the flowing of the rivers. Nature’s Hands, Nature’s Hands. Wet hands with divine spit, moist virginal clay slip. She stroked the earth on her pottery wheel, swirling, Spinning and swooning in shaping me. Adorning, gifting, stroking me with her highness … A mother’s blessing. A natural touch from her hands. Yes a blessing from her…  Nature’s Hands, Nature’s Hands. “Just like the natural elements, I am her child, Divine nature shaped me.” Written as an ode to my primeval mother…mother nature. All my love and respect to this grand lady. LOve From SunBird.

The Apple of His Eye.


I may be what I am


I am the child of the greatest thinker

More than Aristole

More than Carl Marx

More than Voltaire

The wisest philosopher.

I am the child of the most fabulous artist

More than Da Vinci

More than Picasso

He is the most precious

His colours the most powerful.

I am the child of the greatest writer

More than Kipling

More than Shakespeare

More than Leopold Senghor

He is the greatest poet I have ever known.

But most of all,

I am the child

Of the greatest creator

Greater than nature

Even greater than the humans we are.


Way greater than that.

Yes, I am.

I may be the human that I am

But I am proud to be his child,

Proud to be

The apple of his eye.

Dedicated to my God, my creator who I know so well.

All my love SunBird.

‘A Wombing Mind’


In My Wombing Mind,
The seed of a concept was planted.
Its beginning, begun existing.
In the fluid of my mind,
It was conceived.
In the stillness of my mind,
It was reared.

In the sea of my mind,
It was fed by shoals of memories,
My teachings and past wisdom lived,
My intellect giving it all its needs.

In my mind’s self,
It grew larger and larger.
Until, came the wondrous birth…

The contraction in my brain
Gently pushed, pushed, pushed
My eyes squinted, my gaze tightened,
My arm moved, picked up a pen
And with the expression of this ink
At my fingertips,
My baby, my thought, my concept
Was born. It came to be.

On this piece of paper,
I watched as the ink of its birth
Slowly dried.
Setting my thought
As a piece of knowledge
In the book of life.

Precious child of my mind,
The apple of its eye.

This is how my concept was born,
Born from my mind’s spirit.
My philosophy within.
Born of my ‘Higher Me’.

My wombing mind is a very personal piece in which I pour out my feelings about my writings, part of the process by which they come to be expressed on paper. I often refer to any piece of writing that I produce as “my baby” (believe me I have a LOT by now), the mind is an extremely fertile entity within a human, that conceives almost anything we want it to. That is the reason why I metaphorically likened creating a concept to a pregnancy and a birth. Never underestimate anything that comes from your mind! It may not always be worded in the right way at times, but the spirit of it, the conception of it, is divine. Simply because it came from you, your “Higher Me”.