Mum’s the word

Sounds right.

The Daily Post prompt:

This is clearly subjective, but some words really sound like the thing they describe (personal favorites: puffin; bulbous; fidgeting). Do you have an example of such a word (or, alternatively, of a word that sounds like the exact opposite of what it refers to)? What do you think creates this effect?


For me the word that absolutely fits the thing it describes is, “MUM”.


Mum’s the word


Mum’s the word, as elegant as a coat made of fur,

Short, warm and soft just like her.

Soft to start with and soft to end; her love for U will never bend.

Protecting U from the front and back,

her embrace like a tightrope never grows slack.

Mum’s the word, everyone knows;

The older you become, the more obvious it grows,

That you are the center of her world, yes she always keeps U in the middle.

Since the moment you were born, dependent and brittle.

She kept her feet steadfast on the ground so yours could be in the air waving around.

Mum’s the word, the first word you said

as you cuddled up next to her just  after being fed.

“The day you grow up is the day that I dread”

Mum would always say as she clutched your little head

Mum’s the word short, simple and sweet,

It is no wonder we’re taught that heaven lay at her feet

When she brought you into this world with all that pain and strife

She was happily, willingly, risking her life.

You just have to love her doing otherwise is absurd

and this is why MUM’s word.


Ping Back


Adult Visions

Daily Post : Adult Visions – As a kid, you must have imagined what it was like to be an adult. Now that you’re a grownup (or becoming one), how far off was your idea of adult life?

When things don’t turn out as you dreamed as a child, it isn’t always a bad thing right? I mean I had some big, pretty unrealistic, dreams.


Happiness, Health and Wonder


My cupboards will be filled with sweets and chocolaty treats

My car will be a Ferrari, scarlet red with bright leather seats

I will have more money than I can count with an ATM built into my bedroom wall

my house would be huge, 100 meters long and 5 stories tall.


I would have at least 2 jet-skis that would trail behind 2 yachts

and have 2 maids to cook and 2 to clean  the pots

I would be a doctor and a lawyer by the time I’m 25

Sending the bad guys to jail, keeping the good ones alive.


As a 10 year old boy, these were the things of which I’d dream

little did I know that the older I got the more impossible it’d all seem.

Not because I couldn’t see myself arguing in court or in theater making an incision

No, because it was all placed in a bubble that was burst by my adult vision.


When that bubble burst, I’d say, around the age of 21

I realized what was important in life and that having money wasn’t all fun. 

Just because my vision has changed doesn’t mean that I’ve stopped dreaming

The possibilities I am faced with are still endlessly leaving me beaming


My house may be missing a few stories, not to mention a plot

But Id like to believe that 10 year old me won’t be too disappointed with what I got

My car may not be scarlet red or of any exotic brand

I did manage to get a cool Honda though, low slung, second hand.


I do not feel disappointed that my childhood dreams did not come true

if it did , who knows, I might never have met my beau.

The woman of my dreams, funny, as a boy I never dreamed of her

She came into my life filling it with all I needed – happiness, health and wonder.













Can’t Watch This

When I saw today’s Daily Prompt called, Cant Watch This, I figured this would be a good opportunity to post a poem I wrote not too long ago. The poem is called “Waiting In My Chamber” which was inspired by a few events I had the misfortune of witnessing growing up in a gang-infested area in the southern suburbs of Cape Town. I left the area seven months ago and ever since then, whenever I try writing something new, a poem or a short story, it seemed to revolve around my hometown, like a subconscious itch that was screaming, “Scratch me now!”  This is the first piece I wrote after moving away and is written from a rather unique perspective:

Waiting in my the chamber

By Torieq Arendse


Waiting in my chamber for that deafening sound

Through the barrel I catch a glimpse of people frantically running around

Anxiety builds as I hear, “The target’s been found!”

Waiting in my chamber to be sent hell-bound


The trigger sounds rough, not crisp at all

I hear it creaking and rattling as we run and duck behind walls

Anxiety builds as I hear, “Today you will fall!”

Waiting in the chamber to shock and appal


The safety is off, now by the trigger I abide

I hear frantic mothers screaming, “Children hurry, come inside!”

Anxiety builds as the single action slides

Waiting in my chamber ready to glide


The air reeks of gunpowder and subdued fear

The index finger reaches for the trigger, my time draws near

Anxiety reaches climax as the trigger pull I hear

Propelled from the chamber; my target’s unclear!


Travelling at 400 meters per second, everything is a blur

My target missed… Where now I wonder

Lodged in a door, the ground or piercing a dog’s fur?

No! My full metal jacket is now worn by her


An innocent little girl, in her uniform so smart.

I ruined it all as I pierced her white school shirt and met her young heart

She was playing with her brother pushing him in a cart

My deadly trajectory has forever torn them apart



It seems so surreal it all happened so fast

One moment laughing, the next faced down in the grass

She is a bright young girl; top of her class

Today is her 9th birthday and also her last.


I found a new chamber; this one her heart provides

Blood rushing from her wound; her pulse imitates a receding tide

Her little brother stands over us, he never leaves her side

As his sister’s right to life is woefully denied


Now I’m waiting in her chamber, together we are bound

I feel her heartbeat weaken as she lay curled up on the ground

Anxiety builds as I hear “Bring the ambulance around!”

She’s not breathing, not moving, not making sound.

Blogging for the Sake of Blogging (4)

It’s Simple!

I felt good when I woke up this morning! The heavy rain had subsided, I could see some patches of blue sky when I opened my curtains and it is the weekend. Sadly, things suddenly became gloomy when I switched on the TV to watch the news. I was expecting to see some Mandela Day stories. However, the first thing that caught my eye was the headlines running at the bottom of the screen. It read, “Malaysian plane…,” and for a split second, I thought the headline would continue, “… has been found”. Instead, it read, “Malaysian Plane Shot Down, 298 dead”.

This was followed by, “Israeli forces launch ground attack on Gaza”; more atrocious news on what started out to be a good morning.  What exactly is the cause of these events? Well, “political unrest” is a term used in both stories, but we never know exactly what is going on. All we know is that hundreds are dead.

I am no political analyst, so am in no position to comment on the recent events that have transpired in the ongoing conflict between Palestine and Israel or the frankly confusing battle that has recently erupted between Russia and Ukraine. I am more concerned about the people in these regions – people on both sides.

Families are being torn apart, communities are being destroyed and many are denied their basic human rights. Children who should be going to school are either hiding in their homes, fearful of the next airstrike or terrorist attack, or joining their brothers, fathers, uncles in battling military forces on the streets.

I find it useless pointing fingers at which side is losing more people; this does nothing more than fuel the propaganda produced by both sides. I use the words “both sides” for a reason.  The world seems to view the conflict happening in these regions from a “whose side are you on” perspective. You support either the Russians or the Ukrainians or you support either the Israelis or the Palestinians, which has now manifested itself as religious battle instead of a political one. It is now more of Jews versus Muslims issue. Sadly, in all this “whose side are you on” nonsense we are forgetting about the innocent lives lost – on both sides.

Whose side am I on? I am on the side of peace, love and logic.

When I see a group of mostly Muslims marching in Cape Town to demonstrate their anger at the Israeli use of chemical weapons, I feel compelled to join, but when I move closer and read their signs admiring Hitler for killing millions of Jews, I walk away – that to me is not logical. Marching in revolt of one atrocity while admiring another is not logical.

However, in all this news of war and death I find it refreshing to get to work and find my colleagues filling boxes of clothes and non-perishable foods to donate to the local children’s shelter as our little something for Mandela Day. It brings back the warm feeling I woke up with this morning. It says to me that often the solutions to the problems we see happening around the world is not about cease-fire agreements or winning wars. No, it’s much simpler than that. It is about uniting for a common cause, looking out for one another and putting our own selfish interests aside to help others.

As has become custom now, here is a little accompanying poem.


Three Words ©



 By Torieq Arendse


I feel lucky for where I am today

Fed, sheltered, safe, 3 words too few can say

Not just in my country, but all over the world

Too many places by war in disarray hurled


 I feel lucky for where I am today

Loved, protected, happy, 3 words too few can say

Not just in my country, but in many a war-torn town

Where neither government nor rebel will consider backing down


I feel lucky for where I am today

Clean, mobile, clothed, 3 words too few can say

Not just in my country but in most of the Middle East

Where daily bombings have now increased


I feel lucky for where I am; I truly have to say

And I am sure many of you reading this will also feel this way

In commemoration of man who fought for peace I must surely relay

Let’s help where we can, Happy Mandela Day!

Blogging for the sake of blogging (2)

This is the second installment  in a series of posts that I have decided to call “blogging for the sake of blogging”. As promised, I edited the poem I wrote yesterday morning about my weird experience. Just to give you some background about the poem, I have recently been going through a bit of a rough patch professionally and personally. In many ways this poem reflects the weird space I found myself in. I have always found writing to be  cathartic especially when it reflects my struggles. Without further delay, here it is:


Time Slowed down for me this Morning. ©


Time slowed down for me this morning.

I don’t know how; I don’t know why, but time slowed down for me this morning.

It’s usually a blur of tick-tock-tick; of tiptoeing on cold tiles out of the shower quick.

But not today; today time slowed down for me.


Perhaps Mother Nature had hypnotized me

With her howling voice and rhythmical tapping of drip drop dripping on my window pane.

When usually the dripping would drive me insane

It now served as hypnosis, as time slowed down for me.


Alone in bed, its cold outside and I beneath my covers hide

Shift shuffle shifting rubbing together my feet; toes curled up searching for heat

As five minutes felt like an hour under my sheet.

Covered from head to toe as time slowed down for me.


Every five minutes the alarm on my phone blares

 But I’m entranced by Mother Nature’s melody combined with her snares

Of rain and wind and thunder booms and

 I lie still in my quiet room listening… as time slowed down for me.


I look at my clock and it smiled at me

Where usually a frown is what I receive, the weather outside shows no reprieve

A flash of light and thunder follows, resonating somewhere deep in the hollows of my soul I feel it

vibrating, boom, crack, roar, rattle. My awareness frightens me; as time slowed down for me this morning.


 My theory confirmed it’s 7 in the morning but still dark outside

Time MUST have slowed down for me and told the sun to hide, to wait a bit longer

Before rising today, before giving the signal to start making hay, yes time knew that I was not OK

So it slowed for me this morning.



Blogging for the sake of blogging

It is always tricky, your first blog. What do you say? Do you have something to say? If you don’t, should you even consider blogging? Well, today I shall write in my blog simply because I can. I had considered, at some length, what to write about today and then suddenly it struck me – the weird experience I had this morning.

When I woke up I didn’t jump out of bed as I usually do. It was 7 and still dark outside as it is usually is during July in Cape Town. The air in my flat was particularly cold and eerie. The alarm on my Blackberry didn’t seem to annoy me this morning. I could hear it, but its usual “Get Up!” tone didn’t have its usual effect. I grabbed my phone which sleeps next to me every night, if the battery isn’t dead, and put the alarm on “Snooze”. “Just five more minutes,” I thought to myself as I shifted to wrap myself in my blanket again. So I lay there half awake waiting for my phone to start screaming again, but I waited and waited for what felt like half an hour. Eventually I thought that I must have hit the “Dismiss” button by accident and now I was going to be late for work. I turned to check the time again and only two minutes had passed – weird, I know.

Then something even more weird happened – I felt this unusual urge to write a poem about this seeming time shift. I jumped out of bed, switched my laptop on and started typing. The end product was a poem called, “Time Slowed Down for Me this Morning”.

I will edit it when I get home and post it tomorrow!