Monday, October 3, 2016

Jeltje Fanoy #65 Friesian traders

my mother lived up
to her name: she
didn't question trade

her pagan name,
her illustrious mind,
dazzling, she was,
to the best of them

my father, although
more of a gardener,
did his best to oblige

in Australia, he took to
translating, transliterating
old, rustic sayings,
sprinkled them throughout
his annual reports
to Board of Directors,
was sought after
as a speaker
of quaint, almost
mystical dimensions,
his Dutch proverbs, like
arrows, pointing to certainties,
predictable, home grown truths


  1. That's beautiful. Both their spirits are in you.

  2. thanks! centuries of trade in the North Sea.... not just Friesians, of course!

  3. I really liked this poem! There's a grace and groundedness in the way it's expressed. Thank you Jeltje!


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