by Lana Hunneyball | Mar 28, 2024
One day I was out taking photos for a painting and drove past Motherwell Cemetery in Gqeberha (then Port Elizabeth). I was saddened by these basic “gravestones”, which were really just pieces of plastic attached to a metal crossbars. I was involved, at the time, in HIV awareness training and played a tiny part in supporting some kids affected by HIV. It’s an awful disease, made infinitely more so by the loneliness resulting from stigma. I knew that many of these graves held its victims, so the scene really moved me. I imagined the plastic “gravestones” flying away into the sky (Gqeberha is super-windy), and the poem was born.
by Lana Hunneyball | Jan 26, 2024
The Healing Tree: a poem for Lalage " Read More When I write poems, they might bubble up unbidden, sublime, and I stand in awe. But often, getting them from egg to adult is a tortuous road demanding extreme portions of sacrifice and grace — just as with children. I...
by Lana Hunneyball | Jan 24, 2024
Writing a poem: how I see it " Read More People often ask me to tell them more about how I see the act of poetry creation. I can’t think of a better way to express it than my preface to “Flotsam and Jetsam: a half-life of poems”, so here it is....
by Lana Hunneyball | Jan 24, 2024
Another Covid Ball " Read More In 2020 I wrote this contribution for In the Midst: a Covid-19 Anthology by Sandy Tritt. The collection offers poems, stories and artworks from the world over. Slices of life that might, but for this project, have stayed in the vast...
by Lana Hunneyball | Jan 24, 2024
One day I was humming “Let’s Twist Again”, and this poem was sparked. It speaks to our arrogant consumerist culture that has little to no awareness or concern for past and present sacrifices made for their freedom in the ongoing taming of Man’s obsession with power.
