This poem was published in Carapace, in 2002, and selected by Joan Hambidge.

Met my Pa se dood II

Met jou dood kry ék die kaartjies

van vriende en familie-amper-vreemdelinge.
So baie dat ek koeverte vinnig oopskeur en simpatie in stapels wegbêre

Later eers tref dié mooi kaartjie my:
Die Alcantara-brug by Toledo se heilige stad
is in waterkleur oor water opgerig
en die Spaanse son sak op sy liggeel rivier
so sag en werklik
soos jou afwesigheid

Dáár het ons die stad se staptoer voltrek

Jy het geaarsel aan die stad se kant
om die mooiste foto van die brug se toring
vir ewig vas te vang
voor jy, 74-jaar oue man, my huppelend ingehaal het
soos ‘n opgewonde kind
(ons kon nie die bus verpas nie)

En saam is ons die brug oor
wal uit, trappies, heuwels, huis toe

My Afrikaans poetry was first published in Nuwe Stemme 2, a Tafelberg publication, in 2001. Click here to see the front and back covers of this title

My Afrikaans poetry also appears on Litnet. Go to and search for Elsibe Loubser.

I wrote a 20-minute piece called ‘Countdown to suicide’ for a slot called Bedtime stories for big boys and girls, Grahamstown Festival, compiled and produced by Blameless Productions (2007).
Click here to read an extract.

Summer in Cape Town

If I had to go down to the beach,
Would it be with a book?
Or with life and surf boards?
Or just with that far-away look
that says ‘If I could take the warmth of the sun and give it to you, what then?’

Come bearing towels like newly wrapped gifts,
sand clinging like confetti
waiting happily for some soothing sermon
or watching out for Darwin at Queen’s beach.
It does not matter:
dress code informal,
cash-bar happy.
You and the person right next to you
both blissed out on looking forward.
Tired at the end of it all.
And you sleep with after-sun gel under the pillow, just in case it helps,
like slithered fruitcake, to salvage the future

You move behind my retina,sighted in some dimly lit hall.
I can hold you there
before you evaporate, methodic drops, rhythmic beach bat on ball
and laughter cracks the image, tingling champagne.

Strong current, you.
I must swim out
to where the weeds of the ocean devise
a ray of light to hide the dark pools of your eyes.
Broken coral costumes.
The form of day diminished,
hazily pronged, refrain of touch over shower taps.

But by morning I venture an RSVP again,
because by morning the sunburn will wane.

"My natural inclination is to write poetry in Afrikaans. But I also like writing poetry as commissioned work. The first stanza of this English poem was published by the Cape Town magazine called 021 at the end of 2010. They wanted a beach theme."