Monday, 15 June 2009

Gone Too Soon

GONE TOO SOON
By Wayne Visser

Like a raven in the night
You’ve taken flight
Taken flight
Towards the light

Like a sliver of the moon
You’re gone too soon
Gone too soon
With one last swoon

Like a current in the stream
You’re flowing free
Flowing free
Towards the sea

Like the whisper of a sigh
You’ve bid goodbye
Bid goodbye
With one last why

Like a rainbow in the mist
You’re dearly missed
Dearly missed
Forever missed

Creative Commons License 2007

Watch on Youtube
(Instrumental): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9jjHCYFIN4I
(Read by the author): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=laSkFB1NqQo

In Memoriam: Margaret Legum
http://www.mg.co.za/article/2007-11-02-journalist-margaret-legum-passes-away

Sunday, 14 June 2009

Everyday Inspiration launches

I've decided to have a separate blog to share "everyday inspiration" - a daily dose of creativity, drawn from my poetry, art, quotes and prose. http://everydayinspired.blogspot.com. You can also follow this on Twitter (everydayinspire) and Facebook (Everyday Inspiration group). I hope to see you there!

In the spirit of the muse
Wayne

Saturday, 13 June 2009

Life in Pieces by Wayne Visser

LIFE IN PIECES

I. Paradise

My life was full
Crammed and spammed and jammed
Full of stuff and puff
Beyond enough
There were people to meet
Faces to greet
Hands to shake
Deals to make
No time to take a break
From the busyness of it all
The deadlines and budgets
The headlines and fudge-its
And that’s not even counting
The mounting expectations
And ladder climbing
To great destinations
Until the day
It all gave way

II. Disquiet

My life was full
A trumpeting horn of plenty
But gently
The cracks appeared
And what I feared
Came creeping
Seeping
Through the floors, the doors
And every gap in my crowded days
A shrouded haze of discontent
Malevolent
In silent ways
Sowing seeds of destruction
Growing weeds of corruption
Like the gnawing rust of years
And the clawing dust in gears
Like trickling sand
That’s how it began

III. Descent

My life was full
Then in a flash it crashed
And I was dashed
On rocks of shame
My ego smashed
By waves of blame
Nothing would ever be the same
I clutched at straws
And heard them snap
I ran through doors
Into a trap
A maze of dead-end rescue plans
A band of thieves and rival clans
I fled
I bled
And every thread I grabbed
Unravelled only more
Of what my life had been before

IV. Disintegration

My life was in pieces
Shattered and splattered
And scattered to the winds
Of indifference
Amazed, I gazed around and saw
Shards of love
Unspoken
Now broken
Stunned and numbed, I kicked
A fragment of work
Once polished
Now demolished
I did not have the heart
To start
To pick them up
Those pieces of me
Torn apart
So I just let them be

V. Despair

My life was empty
Weary
Dreary
Eerie
With shadows shifting, demons drifting
Yelling in my head:
I should be dead!
What’s the point? Just look around
Not a sound
Not a soul
None to console
No goal
No get-up-and-go
No flow
On life’s stage, this page
Is stained and torn
Time to get out of town
Time to bring my curtain down

VI. Desperation

My life was empty
My hand and the gun were one
My finger, the trigger
The barrel seemed bigger
From close up
Everything else was far away
All the things I’d done
The battles won
The hollow acclaim
The pride in my name
My faraway life with my faraway wife
These were things from a distant land
And a living past
Now fading fast
Now, close to hand
A squeeze on the gun
Then the sun
Broke through

VII. Redemption

My life was empty
It needed to be, for me to see
What life is worth
What can give birth through me
If I open up to a greater force
That invisible source
That fires the heart and inspires the mind
That quickens the spirit
And whispers ‘just do it!’
I’ve started again
Rebuilding my bridges
With paintbrush and pen
With family and friends
It’s more about people, less about reasons
Less about busy, more about seasons
Less about doing, more about knowing
My life is full
But not overflowing

We Could (new poem)

We could …

But what about consequences?

I’ve thought about it

And savoured the thought

Dreamed about it

And woke up still smiling

So, we could …

But what about responsibilities?

The thrill of beginnings

Leads to the ache of endings

Happy-go-lucky now

Means sad-and-lonely later

Yes, we could …

But what about expectations?

I’ve danced with images

And felt the beat of anticipation

Sung the very scenery

And heard nature join the chorus

No doubt, we could …

But what about destinations?

The paths of travellers

Cross, tangle and part ways

The stars of destiny

Seldom blink and shine in sync

We could …

But would we? And should we?

Sunday, 22 February 2009

What it means to be an African (TV interview)

Today, I did a phone-in guest interview on VoxAfrica TV's "Shoot the Messenger" dialogue on what it means to be an African.  I believe it will be published as a video recording on www.voxafrica.com. 

Apart from my poem, "I Am An African" - which you can see on my website, here are some of the pieces from Ben Okri and Thabo Mbeki that I quoted: 

Ben Okri – Mental Fight

The world is not made of labels. The world, from now on, will be made through the mind. Through great dreaming, great loving and masterly application.

Thabo Mbeki – I Am An African speech (1996)

I owe my being to the Khoi and the San whose desolate souls haunt the great expanses of the beautiful Cape

I am formed of the migrants who left Europe to find a new home on our native land. Whatever their own actions, they remain still, part of me.

In my veins courses the blood of the Malay slaves who came from the East. I am the grandchild who lays fresh flowers on the Boer graves at St Helena and the Bahamas.

I come of those who were transported from India and China, whose being resided in the fact, solely, that they were able to provide physical labour, who taught me that we could both be at home and be foreign.

Being part of all these people, and in the knowledge that none dare contest that assertion, I shall claim that - I am an African.

Ben Okri – A Way of Being Free

The fact is that all organic things of single strain have short histories. Obsessions about purity of blood have wiped out empires.

We are all of us mixtures, and our roots are fed from diverse and forgotten places. The Yorubas of Nigeria trace their origins to the Middle East; some anthropologists claim that the real aborigines of Africa are the Bushmen of the Kalahari … the ancient Egyptians were black as well as dun-coloured.

This is the history of bodies. The histories of civilizations is even more eclectic.

My poem is on: http://www.waynevisser.com/poem_i_am_an_african.htm

Tuesday, 20 January 2009

Poem on Obama's Inauguration


THIS DAY: THE INAUGURATION OF BARACK OBAMA

This day
Is not just any day
It is a day of days
A day of a lifetime
An epoch making day
At a time that cries out
For new beginnings

This day
Is a watershed day
A day that separates
Yesterday from today
And today from tomorrow
On a mindless march of days
That needed breaking

This day
Is a day to be marked
As something remarkable
A day to be celebrated
As something joyful
A day to be remembered
As something historic

This day
Is a tribute to the past
With its sacrifices of so many
A blessing for the present
Amidst looming clouds of despair
And a vision for the future
Welcomed with an open hand

This day
Is not the struggle's end
But the journey's beginning
It is not the death of prejudice
But the life of possibility
It is not the end of nights
But the start of days

This day
Is not so much a forging ahead
As a long overdue catching up
With changes at last
That begin to give life
To time-honoured ideals
And flickering hopes

This day
Is a day of coming together
When power meets responsibility
And rhetoric meets action
It is a day of empowerment
When the voiceless are heard
And the marginal become mainstream

This day
Is a day of reconciliation
When the past is laid to rest
And the future is awakening
It is a day of prodigals
When the lost find their way home
And a nation rejoins the world

Wayne Visser
20 January 2009

Friday, 12 December 2008

New Poetry Book: I Am An African


I am delighted to announce the publication of a Collection of my poems on Africa, in a book entitled "I Am An African". As it says in the acknowledgements it is:

"Dedicated to the people of Africa, who never cease to amaze and inspire with their colourful diversity, their warm humanity, their unquenchable hope, their tireless resilience and their indomitable spirit."

For more information and to order, go to: 

http://www.yourpod.co.uk/bookstore/browse_books.htm#africa

Poems included are:

I Am An African

If These Stones Could Whisper (Robben Island)

Separation

Lost City of Gold (Mapungubwe)

Little Foot

A Dragon’s Tale (South Africa)

Ode to the Elephant

First People

African Odyssey (Botswana)

Baobab: Africa’s Tree of Life

Where the World Once Began (Egypt)

I Know a Place in Africa

Africa’s Pride (Ghana)

I Weep for Africa

Place of the Skull (Okavango)

Prayer for Africa

Canyon of Mirrors (Namibia)

Music of Africa

Swahili Spice (Tanzania)

African Pace

Mandela and De Klerk (South Africa)

God Bless Africa