Drinking outside Hells Kitchen one warm Johannesburg evening, after a respectable amount of beer, a pint-sized street urchin bounced across the sidewalk and asked if we'd like to hear some poetry.

"Why not?" we laughed. This was different. No outright begging. As a writer myself, I respected the effort being made.

Then she recited her poetry, and I suddenly understood what real writing sounded like.

Treat yourself. Read these poems. Let them reach inside and tug on strings you never knew you had.

Welcome to life on the colourful streets of Melville, Johannesburg.