“A Clapper Lark” Completed

Wild Flowers in South Limburg, The Netherlands,12 July 2022. Copyright 2022 Forgotten Fields. All rights reserved.
I happened upon this field of wild flowers last year at the height of summer in the south of The Netherlands. To capture its magnificence in a photograph proved impossible, wherefore I naturally resorted to poetry—a composition for a future anthology! Taken 12 July 2022.

On the Hiatus

The past year and nine months have been disruptive but wonderful. I moved from my beloved South African pastures to the hills of South Limburg (The Netherlands) and, as a result, have had little time to write. The reason for the move was love, which against all odds, I found at last in the form of a gentle Dutchman.

Adjusting to love and life in a new country—greatly aided by the similarity between the Dutch and Afrikaans languages (the latter being derived from the former)—this period was marked by distraction of the best kind, exploring parts of The Netherlands, Germany and Belgium with simple but unforgettable trips.

Amongst these was a visit to the picturesque home of Maurice Carême (1899–1978) whose lyric poetry for children made a lasting impression upon me when I first encountered it a decade and a half ago. The foundation in his name has preserved his home as he left it, affording visitors a unique glimpse into his life.

I had the singular and unexpected pleasure and honour to hold one of his original manuscripts in my hands. Were it possible, I would have spent the entire day poring over these fascinating documents, as well as his library, occasionally sitting in the laissez-faire garden, which in summer was pretty as a picture.

Musée Maurice Carême, 6 July 2022. Copyright 2020 Forgotten Fields. All rights reserved.
Impromptu pictures taken at Musée Maurice Carême (the Maurice Carême Museum) in Anderlecht, Belgium on 6 July 2022. From left to right: a bust of the poet in bronze, a sun-kissed settee in the sitting room and the modest exterior of the house. (So enraptured was I in his study—quite apart from the fact that I was asked to recite one of my compositions in that sacred room—that I took no pictures of his desk!)

On the Poem

Thus, after an unexpectedly lengthy hiatus, I resume work on my anthology of lyric poetry. It has been a year since the last poetic sketch, “A Tapping Beetle” (and its Afrikaans companion “Toktokkie”1), was completed. I then began developing “A Clapper Lark”, and I am pleased to report that it too is complete.


  1. Afrikaans; pronounced [tockTOCKy], with a clipped version of the [o] in “or”.

What began as an English sketch of but two short quatrains, after much wrestling and episodic inspiration, transformed into two compositions with eight even shorter couplets. These are centre-aligned so that the symmetry echoes the shape of the bird in flight and the length (or, more aptly, the height), its ascent.

Like “A Tapping Beetle” and “Toktokkie”, “A Clapper Lark” has an Afrikaans companion (I hesitate to use the word “version”, for it implies a mere translation, whereas it is conceived as a poem in its own right, though the theme and style are the same): “Kaapse Klappertjie”.2 Both celebrate the bird’s courtship display.


  1. Afrikaans for “little Cape clapper”, pronounced [KAAHpsuh KLUppuhRky], with [uh] as the [e] in “flutter”, [KLU] as in “clung”, a trilled [R] and [y] as the [i] in “it”.

To attract a mate, the Cape Clapper Lark male flies up into the air from the grasses, rapidly clapping its wings. As it reaches the highest point, it utters either a long, ascending “pooooeeee” in the case of the species that inspired the poem,3 or two descending “tseeoo tseeuuuu”s in that of the species I filmed.4


  1. Mirafra apiata apiata
  2. Mirafra apiata marjoriae

“A Clapper Lark” and “Kaapse Klappertjie” describe this lively flying-up-diving-down, clapping-then-whistling display in eight stanzas each.5 Of the two, “Kaapse Klappertjie” seems to me the most successful phonetically, rhythmically and emotionally, the result of the inherent crispness of the Afrikaans language.


  1. Whilst writing these paragraphs, I suddenly conceived of a simple way at once to infuse the English composition with more vivacity and joviality, and align its structure with that of the Afrikaans. Originally, the final version of the English poem had four stanzas and the Afrikaans, eight. Both now have eight. This text was adjusted accordingly.

The common name of the bird in each language is an excellent example of how Afrikaans suits the concept of the poems better: “Cape Clapper Lark” flows; “Kaapse Klappertjie”2 skips. Taking this difference into account, the boisterous display of this otherwise unobtrusive bird is best expressed in that tongue.

The above-mentioned “A Tapping Beetle” and “Toktokkie” and “A Clapper Lark” and “Kaapse Klappertjie” form a set describing the amusing manners in which the creatures in question attract a mate. All four poems are centre-aligned and make liberal use of onomatopoeia: a visual and lyrical delight to compose!

The Kleinrivier River at Klipdrift, September 2010. Copyright 2022 Google.
The bridge at Klipdrift in the Overberg region of the Western Cape province of South Africa that inspired the “Little River” poetic sketch. Upon my last visit there, it was being made flood-proof, altering the charming and unassuming structure forever. Not only do I deeply regret this modernisation, but also the consequential loss of the many meticulously-built swallow nests in its arches. (Image from Google Street View, September 2010.)

On a Bridge

Next, I shall develop “Little River”, first drafted in mid-September 2019. Whilst living in the Overberg region of the Western Cape province of South Africa, it was my custom to drive once a week to the seaside town of Hermanus. These drives resulted in many a sight, which, in turn, resulted in many a poetic sketch.

On the way, in summer, I would encounter flights of swallows at Klipdrift6 where a small, simple bridge crossed the Kleinrivier7 river. Beneath this bridge, they nested; upon it, they sometimes alighted in the roadway; and above it, they frolicked and flitted—always an exquisite performance for anyone willing to watch.


  1. Afrikaans for “stone ford” or “Stanford”, pronounced [clipdRift], with a trilled [R].
  2. Afrikaans for “small river”, pronounced [cleyn-RhfeeR], with a trilled [R].

How fondly I remember those moments, for I was such a one! I would stop upon the narrow bridge—to the bafflement and annoyance of the occasional fellow road user who would invariably appear just then and end my adoration—and lose myself in the spectacle of Greater Striped Swallows (Cecropis cucullata) in flight.

I would also see many other birds; among them, the African Black Duck (Anas sparsa) and Vleitinktinkie8 (Levaillant’s Cisticola, Cisticola tinniens), both of which appear in the original “Little River” draft: a sketch about the river, its bridge and its birds. In the coming weeks, I shall develop the draft into a complete lyric poem.


  1. Afrikaans for “little marsh tink-tinkler” (literally “marsh little tink-tinkler”); pronounced [FLEY-tihng-tihngky], with the [ih] as the [e] in “flutter” and [y] as the [i] in “it”; named after its tinkling call, whence its other English common name, Tinkling Cisticola.

Poetry Publication Progress (2023-01-06)

“Toktokkie” is complete!

Toktokkie, 3 December 2018. Copyright 2018 Forgotten Fields. All rights reserved.
The Toktokkie (Psammodes striatus), photographed 3 December 2018.

To a Tapper

Two versions of “Toktokkie”1 have come into being: “A Tapping Beetle”, composed in English, and “Toktokkie”, in Afrikaans.2 Both are in the style of a children’s rhyme, playfully recollecting my encounter with the titular beetle on a summery mountain slope.


  1. The Afrikaans poem, “Toktokkie”, is my second composition in the language, “Skaapwagtertjie” being the first. That poem too is part of an English-Afrikaans set, the Afrikaans version having emerged from the English.
  2. Pronounced [tocktocky], with the [o] in ‘voice’.

Toktokkie, its onomatopoeic Afrikaans name, imitates the tapping sound of its rear, which it bumps against the ground as part of its mating ritual. Knocking on the ground with one’s knuckle tricks it into tapping a response; the poems echo the rhythm in trochees.3


  1. DUM-dum-DUM-dum-DUM / DUM-dum-DUM-dum-DUM

Originally conceived in English, the mimetic Afrikaans “Toktokkie” proved irresistible, quickly commandeering my attention. Before long, what started as a fun compositional experiment, became two complete quatrains upon which I then modelled the English poem.

Consequently, both versions describe the same scenario in the same stanza structure with corresponding lines that differ only where rhyme and diction must dictate. Nonetheless, one poem is not a mere translation of the other, but a work in its own right.

Cape Clapper Lark, 20 September 2020. Copyright 2020 Forgotten Fields. All rights reserved.
A Cape Clapper Lark (Mirafra apiata) photographed 20 September 2020.

To a Clapper

I shall now develop “A Clapper Lark”. Where the Tapping Beetle drums its rear on the ground to attract a mate, the Cape Clapper Lark flaps its wings so that they make a clapping sound as it rises into the air—it then utters two whistles before quietly descending.

In the morning, one hears and sees it performing its display, rising and falling from the grasses. Though relatively unimpressive in appearance—beige and brown—what it lacks in looks, it makes up for with spectacle—delighting passerine and passerby alike.

To “A Clapper Lark”, I shall bring the same light-hearted style of “Toktokkie” and “A Tapping Beetle”—and perhaps even an Afrikaans version, as here too onomatopoeia and alliteration are to be found in its Afrikaans common name, Kaapse klappertjie.4


  1. Afrikaans for ‘little Cape clapper’, pronounced [kaapsuh kluppuhRky], with [uh] as ‘e’ in ‘flutter’, [klu] as in ‘cluster’, a trilled [R] and [y] as the ‘i’ in ‘it’.

Incidentally, it dawns upon me that I am nearing the end of the compositional phase of the anthology. Four poems remain before editing begins, namely “A Clapper Lark”, “Little River”, “Boys” and “The Last Time I Saw Fireflies”, likely to be completed in April.

Poetry Publication Progress (2021-12-25)

From “Kalossie” to “Toktokkie”

Ixia stricta, 3 December 2018. Copyright 2018 Forgotten Fields. All rights reserved.
The exquisite Kalossie (Ixia stricta). Photographed 3 December 2018.

“Kalossie”

Amazingly—given my recent trend of lengthy writing times—“Kalossie”, the third of the “Wild Flower Sketches”, was completed in just four short writing sessions, including the conception of the original draft.

This was the result of having decided upon the tercet as its form, after “Karkar Flowers” and “Lobelia”, its completed companion compositions. All that was left was to shape the lines accordingly.

The “Wild Flower Sketches” then are a triptych of tercets celebrating Tritoniopsis antholyza, Lobelia chamaepitys and Ixia stricta. What a joy to have words prepared the next time I meet them on the mountain!

Toktokkie, 3 December 2018. Copyright 2018 Forgotten Fields. All rights reserved.
The beetle that inspired a poem. Photographed 3 December 2018.

“Toktokkie”

Next, I shall develop the “Toktokkie”1 poem, inspired by the beetle of that name. I composed the first draft—“Tock-tocky”—nearly a month after encountering it on the mountain that blessed summer evening.

I recognised it from childhood and remembered that knocking with one’s knuckle on the ground would persuade it to do the same with its rear!2 The poem enjoys this amusement in two stanzas.

The tapping is the origin of its common name, the onomatopoeic “Toktokkie”, Afrikaans for “little knock-knock”. I anglicised this to “Tock-tocky”, but no such contrivance is necessary—“Toktokkie” is its title.


  1. Afrikaans; pronounced [tockTOCKy], with a clipped version of the [o] in ‘or’.
  2. Tricked into thinking a potential mate is nearby.

Poetry Publication Progress (2021-11-20)