Flapper Press Features the Work of South African Poet Antreka Tladi
By Elizabeth Gracen:
The Flapper Press Poetry Café continues to feature the work of poets from around the globe. It is an honor to share their work and learn more about their lives, influences, and love of poetry.
This week, we are honored to feature the poetry and art of Antreka Tladi!
Antreka Tladi is a poet and writer living in Jane Furse, Republic of South Africa. His poems have appeared in local and international journals and anthologies, including the Avbob Poetry Project, the Calabash Literary Journal, New Coin Poetry, The Kalahari Review, The Mid-Atlantic Review, IHRAM Press, and the Otherwise Engaged Literature and Arts Journal, among others.
Twitter/X : @AntrekaTladi
We reached out to Antreka to talk about his influences, passions, and his powerful poetry.
Please meet Antreka Tladi!
Elizabeth Gracen: Antreka, thank you so much for taking the time to talk to me about your intriguing work. Please tell our readers a little bit about yourself, when you found poetry, and why you like to write it!
Antreka Tladi: I am a South African poet and writer from Jane Furse, where I have received my primary and secondary education and currently live. I'm greatly humbled and inspired by this opportunity to share some of my work with you, so thank you for your support.
I've written poetry since my early youth, but it was only in 2019 when I was laid off from work that I had enough time to try new things. Then I found myself enjoying reading and writing to such an extent that I started receiving positive reviews of my work from editors.
EG: The poems published in this article cover the gamut—from a love poem, the Trojan War, and even your dreamlife. You seem to draw inspiration from many sources, but what specifically compels you to write a poem?
AT: I would like to consider myself an avid reader, the inspiration tends to be a bit more unlimited when you read a lot—you would always be intrigued by new ideas and new perspectives. On an ordinary day, there are some instances that you might pass off as an ordinary occurrence, but when you analyse and look from a new dimension, you might discover a story in that fleeting moment. So it helps to be aware and always be ready to adapt such moments into stories.
EG: Please tell me more about your life in Jane Furse, Republic of South Africa. What was it like growing up there? What is your typical day like, and how does your poetic life fit into it?
AT: I was born in Jane Furse, and grew up in Phokwane, a small rural village in the Limpopo province. It was a great and happy childhood, we took no notice of the poverty around us and had so much fun playing soccer made of stuffed plastic bags. After school, I would run home, get some plastic canisters into a wheelbarrow, and go fetch water for household use. And when I was done, I was able to go to the streets and play with the other kids.
My typical day nowadays is a sharp contrast to my earlier years. If I'm not fixing something that is broken, or working on a garden, or cutting the grass in the yard, I would definitely be writing or reading.
EG: One of my favorite things to ask artists and writers is who their greatest influences are. What poets, writers, musicians, films, or art most inspire you? Who are your biggest influences?
AT: I do enjoy reading classics, the likes of William Butler Yeats, Percy Bysshe Shelley, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, W. S. Merwin, Mongane Wally Serote, and many more have had a great influence and inspiration for me.
EG: What one thing would you like our readers to take away from reading your poetry?
AT: I would like the readers to see a different perspective, a different view of the world from their own.
EG: Antreka, thank you so much for taking the time to talk to me and share your work. Please tell our readers what you have in the works and where they can find out more about you and your poetry.
AT: I have published a single collection of poetry titled Mother's Kitchen and Other Places, by Mwanaka Media and Publishing, in 2023. It is available on Amazon and other online book stores. I was a third finalist in one of the Avbob Poetry Project national mini competitions. I was honoured with an African Authors' Honoree Award in 2022.
War Comes in Small Packages
It is said that the battle of Troy began only as lust
As a mischievous smile on the lips of a married woman
As a flirting moment of reckless merriment
Or a subtle wink of an eye that sends nations to war
A small event that erupted into a momentous occasion
Like a red lipstick stain on the collar of your shirt
Or the scent of a feminine cologne on the fabric
Of your cardigan
Drifting through the living room like a guest
To confront the nostrils of your wife
And she will pick up the phone and dial her uncles
And your uncles and call your parents
And all the children and everybody and the magistrate
You will sleep in the guest room that day
Like a prisoner awaiting trial
Knowing so well that after every war throughout history
The world emerged a changed place
From the poet: This was inspired by the story of the Trojan War—especially the alleged cause of that war, which seemed unbelievably trivial and insignificant to force nations to battle. Also, by the way it applies to our daily lives where small events can lead to a life-changing decision.
You Said You Can Love Me Like That
How did we arrive at this point in our conversation?
I guess we were talking about history,
about the culture
Of your people, and their practice to avoid public
Display of affection.
You said they took kissing as religious as sex,
And that meant special,
Meant sacred.
You said you can love me from a distance,
You said you can love me silently
Like the oxygen in my lungs.
That it would become a momentous occasion
To finally take my hand in yours.
You said we can hug each other like mountains,
Not with our shoulders,
But with our shades.
You said you can love me like that.
From the poet: This is simply a love poem, and it is self-explanatory. I was inspired to write this one because of the romantic novel I was reading at that time.
Post Colonial Stress Disorder
The nightmare was a real thing, Doctor please believe me!
I saw him, the man! His curly long hair and a flutter of his
Tailcoat as he turned a corner and disappeared. Doctor,
Doctor please help me! A single lamp was hung on a wall
To illuminate a dark street. I might have seen that city
Before or not, but its columns huge and tall, its arches
And domes gothic in the evening smoke. Doctor please
Believe me! The vision came to me momentarily, In sepia
Black and white, and Doctor I dare say it was it;
London – and I bet with my life, that the man – the
Spectral movement of the man, his hurried footstep upon
The cobblestone resembles that of Shakespeare.
Doctor, Doctor please help me! I’m dreaming about
Colonial ghosts.
From the poet: This was actually a short dream I had one evening when I was trying to sleep. I tried to capture that dream, but I couldn’t quite remember anything. This was what I could catch and put together.
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