II have died many times before my death.Long ago, in another lifetimeI learned to be what I am not.My thoughts are hallucinatory,broken sounds and refracted imagesthat drift through my mind like shadowsdancing on dimly lit walls.I sit shackled, hunting for significancein grey blurs that float byin endless streams of repetition.I want to find a new wordfor my life,I am tired of the old one.I want to re...

It’s been ten years, but I can still pull colours from the corners of my mind. Letting me see rays of light that give way to hues of gold and red that carpet the grass. If only for a moment.

Breezes usher in on an orchestrated serenade of autumn. It enters cool and sedated, as subtle as the high notes of a summer song. Where once the raucous of beach-laughter and jubilant screams blended with crashing surf, they now trail off, dissipating into the scent of cozy fireplace bellows. I sit, chin on knees, and watch as the leaves’ brilliant folly comes alive. Colors held and hidden away from the heat, spring forth...

21st of March – Season 2 Ruben Rothschild was a typical seventeen-year-old boy: fascinated by pretty girls, liked action movies and absolutely loved fast cars. That’s why he was so happy to have a Dad who was a reporter in the F-X Series. It’s too bad he was the worst of them. “Ruben,” said Wikus. “What’s on your mind, son?” They were currently making their way to the Festival of the Fall pay-per-view over at Engels Korta...

The olives and the ochres of withered blades,Of conkers and hazel all through the gladeDark evenings, too soon the clock going back,Squirrels secreting their nutty snacksA ring of fairies dancing on the lawn,Appearing in the early dawn  The cool breeze brings a dash of rain,Like tears on the window paneA double rainbow a lucky sign?Still no evading autumn time Some might speak of the fall,Time to don coat and shawlNo more...

It was a day just like today I remember, Unseasonably mild for late in October; The trees were still apparelled in splendid colours, The shades of autumn, oranges and reds, rich browns, And brilliant gold, a last defiant display, Before winter took away their summer glory, To leave them naked, stark against the horizon, Or shrouded mysteriously in foggy gloom; Only the sparkle of hoar frost on their branches Or the first...

I hate summer, Because of the Hot weather. But I love it so, For the outdoor fun. The hiking, The swimming, And especially, The camping. I love the tank tops, Shorts and sandals. The sun dresses That makes me feel So pretty. I love the big sun hats, And oversized sunglasses. How cold, hand squeezed Lemonade tastes Like sweet heaven Under the hot, Scorching sun.I love autumn. How the leaves change Colors, How they float Sl...

This poem only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.So bright the birch leaves on my lawn,So soft their drift in weak sun's blaze;A spark of flame on Autumn's breath,Now damping down with faerie glaze.I scuff my boots through pixie tracks(The little gits keep sneaking throughMy lovely lawn, all dew-bejewelled;I wish they wouldn't, but they do).Behold! What's this? A mushroom huge...

Please note that this is a teaching story for children. I have included some xhosa words, so they can learn both facts and a new language in a fun way that helps them understand rather than merely memorise.  Ilanga - SunImvula - Rain Umoya - Wind  In a deep forest not too far from here, there stood a little oak tree. His name was Oakley. Oakley’s branches had begun to sprout the most beautiful little green leaves you have...

The brilliance of it shines pale grey-white like a seagull's feathers in the sea of black inky oil, giving her the only light there was. The leaves in hues of red and shades of brown, yellows and oranges as vibrant as a stoplight and as dim as the mucky slime that they call baby food. They fall, floating gracefully down to the ground from their uppermost perch in the city's version of a forest canopy. As a baby-food-orang...

Wind-torn from their perchTenacious leaves stay aloft'Til fate intervenes

The fiercest heat of blazing sun has finally stretched its arms And yawned its way towards the stairs embraced in cooling balmsOf fresh-breathed northern winds that chase the southern cloying heatAway from Summer's laughing face and happy, dancing feet. September heralds in great joys for such a one as I;September calls my heart to gaze upon the darkening sky.Summer pulls itself away and Earth is brought to childbed,The f...

As dying jewels of autumnal airDisplay their languished colours fair, ‘Twixt earth and sky the wraiths o’erhead Do drop their garments as a bed. The clothéd arms outstretched, aquiver, Do grasp the watery sun’s weak shiver. Those that were once full heavy laden, In former springs once gentle maiden, Drooping now the gift of life, Though slumbering deep, potential’s rife. And there! What scrabbling, little scurries? What w...

When the autumn wind starts to blow, The trees in the forest put on a colourful show, Yellows, browns, gold and reds, And the animals curl up snug in their beds. When dry leaves fall to the ground, With a dry rustling sound, I like to make a little leaf bed, On which to rest my weary head. While the little bird flies, To warmer skies, Mother Earth plants her tiny seeds, And tries to take care of all our needs.

It was a beautiful autumn morning in London. I woke up to the birds chirping outside my window. I yawned and slowly got out of my bed. I looked at my bedside table and found my phone. I looked at the time, it was just 8 o'clock. It was my day off. I went towards the window and pushed it open. I saw outside and loved the view. The sun had come out and was shining on the street, bouncing sun rays off the rooftops. I could s...