A Year Ago.

I’m writing this in anticipation of the day your life was taken away.

Who knew what I’d say if you were here today.

God knew you’d serve as my muse, conveying the anguish of missing your ray.

You aren’t here to read this, you’re sleeping today…

When the clouds open and the trumpets play, the Lord will come and you’ll wake up again.

Until that day, you’ll wear away.

Until the sunrises again.


LE. Lengane.


A wound that bleeds; unable to heal, for he desturbs her peace.

He cannot love her the way she needs but he makes use of her whichever way he please.

She cannot sigh relief for she knows her heart is in need.

She continues to bleed…

She looks for love on his bed of thorns, unaware that his “love” is anything from what she needs.

His nonchalant surface appealing to her rareview mirrors…

Smudged is her sight by his mere exterior.

She continues to bleed; unable to heal.

LE. Lengane.

Can You?

Can you love my soul and what it stands for without bypass my credence?

Can you enjoy my mind without being fooled by the ideals some want to place on me?

Can you merit my knowledge and applaud my substance without questioning its source?

Can you appreciate my heart without making a mockery of the intensity in which it beats?

Can you see the significance of my body without trying to lesson its value by oversexualisng me?

Can you value me as a whole without casting parts of me away?

Can you see my significance?

LE. Lengane.


Amazed by the far stretching earthly architectural scape.

Gazing from inside her bubble of insecurity.

A blazing beauty yet she is the one to extinguished her flame.


She dilutes her substance to appear tasteful to those who lack the capacity to love her right.

An emotional maze rapidly sculptured a sturdy wall around her heart.

One can only hope she feels the warmth her in depth beauty births.

Amazed we are to see how your flame wishes to be set free.

Awaiting for you to retire the fire extinguisher.

L.E Lengane.

Midnight Stroll.

Pitch black is the night, only stars to guide our way.

Flickering as if they were our audience.

They witnessed the love we shared whilst setting in motion the romance we felt.

Walking slowly along the pavement, we catch a glipse of the moon seemily smile down on us.

As if we got the approval from our Father above.

We submerg ourselves in the love as it beems outward towards one another.

Closer to our destration yet our pace faulters in an attempt to prolong our interaction.

He feels my love as strongly and as intensly as I feel his.

He hald onto my hand as if it was his only source of warmth, footsteps away from my destination.

I feel no need to let him go…

The stars continue to flicker as the raindrops began to fall… indeed the stars became a true depiction of what my heart felt.

LE. Lengane.


He has no idea but he shines like a candle in the night.

He gives off warmth and light that is felt throughout the entire room.

Unable to retreat he pushes through like a wrenching ball demolishing walls in its path.

Like a skyscraper, he stands tall as the sun reflects on his integrity and shoots beams of light onto the horizon.

As the clouds fade and rainbows colour the sky, his mere existence enriches the depths of my being, far surpassing the maze of emotions and unfinished puzzles laying at the door step of my soul.

He has no idea but he is more.

More to me than he knows.

LE. Lengane.

Samantha Booysen.

Fiercely tolerant, strikingly profound, outrageously reserved.

My friend…

A very strange individual indeed, she flurishes unlike any flower… alone, in the dark is where she gathers her thoughts.

She finds strength in being differant and power in being silent.

Her exterior is that of a sea shell; hard yet radiant to look at, difficult to open but breathtaking within, seldom seen but always heard of, her heart is that of a pearl, many try to imitate but few get to hold it.

She marches to the beat of her own drum, dancing to the tune of her own mind, singing along to her soul, embracing the music to her being, speaking a melody few recognise for she composes her own thoughts and views.

A women of few words but she speaks with meaning.

A football fanatic with a soul that matches that of rhythm and blues.

My friend, Samantha Booysen.

LE. Lengane.