Category: poetry

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Angels

I believe in angels
But I don’t think they have wings
I know that they are near
By the way my spirit sings

I believe in angels
But I doubt that they have halos
I know that they are wise
By the way their caring shows

I believe in angels
But I do not hear their hymns
I know that they are true
By the joy their presence brings

I believe in angels
But without the flowing robes
I know that they are here
By the light which shines and grows

I believe in angels
But not from realms of heaven
I know that they are close
By the loving that is leaven

I believe in angels
Some walk right by our side
Some dwell in planes unseen
And serve as spirit guides

Wayne Visser © 2005

Book

String, Donuts, Bubbles and Me: Favourite Philosophical Poems

This creative collection, now in its 3rd edition, brings together philosophical poems by Wayne Visser. In this anthology, he muses on subjects ranging from space, angels and destiny to time, science and meaning in life. According to scientists / The world’s made of string / That buzzes and fuzzes / Or some such strange thing / It’s also a donut / That curls round a hole / With middles and riddles / Just like a fish bowl / And there’s no mistaking / It’s more than 3-D / With twenty or plenty / Dimensions unseen / Still others insist / It’s really a bubble / That’s popping and bopping / Through the lenses of Hubble. Buy the paper book / Buy the e-book.

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Mirror, Mirror

Mirror, mirror, on the wall
Looking proud and standing tall
With twinkling eye and gleaming smile
Your charming face, sure to beguile

With tricks of light, you play your game
First you flatter, then you maim
A cruel master, seldom friend
Teasing, taunting, without end

Are you villain, evil glass?
A horror prop, or tragic farce?
Am I enslaved, or am I vain?
Will your spell drive me insane?

All alone, yet you conspire
With images of love’s desire
Selling beauty, buying souls
Feeding fears and eating holes

You never lie, but miss the truth
By scorning age and praising youth
Catching beams, reflecting forms
Judging on distorted norms

Yet what you show is only part
Of who I am, it’s just the start
The best of me is what you hide
It’s all the beauty that’s inside

Mirror, mirror, on the wall
I hear your voice and heed your call
The one you show is my true friend
You are the means, I am the end

Wayne Visser © 2005

Book

String, Donuts, Bubbles and Me: Favourite Philosophical Poems

This creative collection, now in its 3rd edition, brings together philosophical poems by Wayne Visser. In this anthology, he muses on subjects ranging from space, angels and destiny to time, science and meaning in life. According to scientists / The world’s made of string / That buzzes and fuzzes / Or some such strange thing / It’s also a donut / That curls round a hole / With middles and riddles / Just like a fish bowl / And there’s no mistaking / It’s more than 3-D / With twenty or plenty / Dimensions unseen / Still others insist / It’s really a bubble / That’s popping and bopping / Through the lenses of Hubble. Buy the paper book / Buy the e-book.

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Lost and Found

When I’m lost for words, I find my true voice
For silence is borne with the wisdom of choice
By finding my heart, I’m losing my head
For feelings are tangles of words best unsaid

When I’ve found myself, I lose my disguise
For freedom is built on the absence of lies
By losing my love, I’m finding my friends
For trusting begins when the certainty ends

When I’m lost in dreams, I find inner sight
For vision is masked by the spectrum of light
By finding my words, I’m losing my goal
For beauty is writ in the language of soul

When I’ve found my feet, I lose my desire
For purpose is fuelled by the passion of fire
By losing my way, I’m finding my path
For meaning is hid in the labyrinth’s hearth

Wayne Visser © 2006

Book

String, Donuts, Bubbles and Me: Favourite Philosophical Poems

This creative collection, now in its 3rd edition, brings together philosophical poems by Wayne Visser. In this anthology, he muses on subjects ranging from space, angels and destiny to time, science and meaning in life. According to scientists / The world’s made of string / That buzzes and fuzzes / Or some such strange thing / It’s also a donut / That curls round a hole / With middles and riddles / Just like a fish bowl / And there’s no mistaking / It’s more than 3-D / With twenty or plenty / Dimensions unseen / Still others insist / It’s really a bubble / That’s popping and bopping / Through the lenses of Hubble. Buy the paper book / Buy the e-book.

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Abbr.

midst techno-bustle
& market hustle
with email flurry
& retail hurry
brevity rules
among literary fools

memos whirl
& post-its swirl
msgs scuttle
& txts shuttle
by the letter
shorter’s better

chatroom speaks
4 cyber-freaks
dumbing down
england’s crown
with smiley faces
exchanging places

xtra time’s
the modern crime
while humans race
thru’ cluttered space
but life’s too short
to just abort

subtle rhyme
& words sublime
find your voice
& make your choice:
to create
or to abbr.

Wayne Visser © 2005

Book

String, Donuts, Bubbles and Me: Favourite Philosophical Poems

This creative collection, now in its 3rd edition, brings together philosophical poems by Wayne Visser. In this anthology, he muses on subjects ranging from space, angels and destiny to time, science and meaning in life. According to scientists / The world’s made of string / That buzzes and fuzzes / Or some such strange thing / It’s also a donut / That curls round a hole / With middles and riddles / Just like a fish bowl / And there’s no mistaking / It’s more than 3-D / With twenty or plenty / Dimensions unseen / Still others insist / It’s really a bubble / That’s popping and bopping / Through the lenses of Hubble. Buy the paper book / Buy the e-book.

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Bits and Pieces

Hidden in drawers
Are pathways and doors
To mindscapes and heartshapes
And times long forgotten

Under the bed
Are words left unsaid
Like jars still unopened
And nest eggs unbroken

Stacked up in piles
Are papers and files
With thought-crimes and love-rhymes
And hopes now forsaken

Back of the shelf
Are bits of myself
Like gems left unguarded
And rags now discarded

Stashed in a box
Are keystones and locks
To histories and mysteries
And fates still encoded

Left on the floor
Are clothes from before
Like clues to unravel
And notes from soul-travel

Inside some books
Are triggers and hooks
To dark-nights and wing-flights
And trips still untaken

Strewn on the ledge
Are tales from the edge
Like sparks to enkindle
And memories that tingle

Flashed on the screen
Are photos and dreams
Of sun-bursts and moon-thirsts
And worlds yet untested

These are the bits
And though none of them fits
Each random played part
Turns my life into art

Wayne Visser © 2006

Book

String, Donuts, Bubbles and Me: Favourite Philosophical Poems

This creative collection, now in its 3rd edition, brings together philosophical poems by Wayne Visser. In this anthology, he muses on subjects ranging from space, angels and destiny to time, science and meaning in life. According to scientists / The world’s made of string / That buzzes and fuzzes / Or some such strange thing / It’s also a donut / That curls round a hole / With middles and riddles / Just like a fish bowl / And there’s no mistaking / It’s more than 3-D / With twenty or plenty / Dimensions unseen / Still others insist / It’s really a bubble / That’s popping and bopping / Through the lenses of Hubble. Buy the paper book / Buy the e-book.

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Riddle 2

What:
Holds tight as much as it lets go?
Unites two as much as it is bestowed by one?
Gives back as much as it receives?
Serves the young as much as it comforts the old?

Wayne Visser © 2004

Book

String, Donuts, Bubbles and Me: Favourite Philosophical Poems

This creative collection, now in its 3rd edition, brings together philosophical poems by Wayne Visser. In this anthology, he muses on subjects ranging from space, angels and destiny to time, science and meaning in life. According to scientists / The world’s made of string / That buzzes and fuzzes / Or some such strange thing / It’s also a donut / That curls round a hole / With middles and riddles / Just like a fish bowl / And there’s no mistaking / It’s more than 3-D / With twenty or plenty / Dimensions unseen / Still others insist / It’s really a bubble / That’s popping and bopping / Through the lenses of Hubble. Buy the paper book / Buy the e-book.

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Illusions

Our beliefs stretch as far as we take them
In our search for the purpose of living
And our faith is a mould that can shape them
In our lessons of loving and giving

But when streams become trapped we mistake them
For the limitless source of the ocean
In our quest for the gods, we forsake them
For the truth is eternal motion

Our illusions are real as we make them
Like mirror tricks played with the sunlight
And our questions are hammers to break them
Bringing new worlds alive with our insight

Wayne Visser © 2007

Book

String, Donuts, Bubbles and Me: Favourite Philosophical Poems

This creative collection, now in its 3rd edition, brings together philosophical poems by Wayne Visser. In this anthology, he muses on subjects ranging from space, angels and destiny to time, science and meaning in life. According to scientists / The world’s made of string / That buzzes and fuzzes / Or some such strange thing / It’s also a donut / That curls round a hole / With middles and riddles / Just like a fish bowl / And there’s no mistaking / It’s more than 3-D / With twenty or plenty / Dimensions unseen / Still others insist / It’s really a bubble / That’s popping and bopping / Through the lenses of Hubble. Buy the paper book / Buy the e-book.

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Ground Rules

Ground rules are the guidelines
Shouted from the sidelines
To make our wildness tame …
As if life were just a game

Ground rules are echoes past
Lessons that are meant to last
To lead us through safe doors …
As if life obeys our laws

Ground rules are our protection
From the fear of love’s rejection
To give us places to hide …
As if life can be denied

Ground rules are our choices
Whispered by inner voices
To keep our feet on track …
As if life would turn it’s back

Ground rules are habits worn
Like clothes since we are born
To curtail our whims and wishes …
As if life were not capricious

Ground rules are the reply
Of those who cannot fly
To the beat of freedom’s wing …
As if life weren’t born to sing

Wayne Visser © 2004

Book

String, Donuts, Bubbles and Me: Favourite Philosophical Poems

This creative collection, now in its 3rd edition, brings together philosophical poems by Wayne Visser. In this anthology, he muses on subjects ranging from space, angels and destiny to time, science and meaning in life. According to scientists / The world’s made of string / That buzzes and fuzzes / Or some such strange thing / It’s also a donut / That curls round a hole / With middles and riddles / Just like a fish bowl / And there’s no mistaking / It’s more than 3-D / With twenty or plenty / Dimensions unseen / Still others insist / It’s really a bubble / That’s popping and bopping / Through the lenses of Hubble. Buy the paper book / Buy the e-book.

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Confusion

Our confusion is the intrusion of illusion
Through the contortion of proportion
And the profusion in diffusion
Of the distortion of precaution
With infusion of our delusion in conclusion

Wayne Visser © 2007

Book

String, Donuts, Bubbles and Me: Favourite Philosophical Poems

This creative collection, now in its 3rd edition, brings together philosophical poems by Wayne Visser. In this anthology, he muses on subjects ranging from space, angels and destiny to time, science and meaning in life. According to scientists / The world’s made of string / That buzzes and fuzzes / Or some such strange thing / It’s also a donut / That curls round a hole / With middles and riddles / Just like a fish bowl / And there’s no mistaking / It’s more than 3-D / With twenty or plenty / Dimensions unseen / Still others insist / It’s really a bubble / That’s popping and bopping / Through the lenses of Hubble. Buy the paper book / Buy the e-book.

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Ghosts

We all have our ghosts –
Ethereal presences that linger in the shadows
Of our sunny days
Ephemeral voices that whisper in the stillness
Of our starry nights
Evanescent intuitions that flicker in the iridescence
Of our lunar dreams

Ghosts of the past
Haunt the dungeons of our minds
Rattle the chains of our memories
And lure us ever backwards

Ghosts of the future
Tease us with visions of maybe
Taunt us with fairytales of what-if
And tempt us ever forwards

Ghosts of death
Lurk in the quagmire of our anxieties
Summon doubts about our inimitability
And shroud our belief in the miraculous

Ghosts of life
Shimmer on the horizon of our being
Beckon to the promise of our divinity
And illuminate the potential of our love

Imagined ghosts
Are dreamed up to animate our voids
Conjured up to question our senses
And made up to justify our mass insanity

Real ghosts
Are discarnate souls and devic sprites
Angelic guides and demon ghouls
Forever infusing light and stoking fires

Malevolent ghosts
Are thirsty parasites that leech on our pain
Hungry predators that prey on our fears
And grim reapers that slay our hopes

Mischievous ghosts
Poke fun at our childish beliefs
Trip us up on our urgent treadmills
And drop enigmas into our rational mazes

Benevolent ghosts
Shelter us during tumultuous storms
Flash us with rainbow smiles
And raise us up above the illusory clouds

Mystical ghosts
Inspire our desire to live artfully
Tickle our curiosity to go beyond
And lift the veil on life’s esoteric mysteries

We all have our ghosts –
Dancing phantoms that glide on the blurry edges
Of our waking consciousness
Devouring spectres that feast on the nourishing energies
Of our succulent present
Wistful apparitions that reflect the gods and fiends
Of our innermost selves

Wayne Visser © 2004

Book

String, Donuts, Bubbles and Me: Favourite Philosophical Poems

This creative collection, now in its 3rd edition, brings together philosophical poems by Wayne Visser. In this anthology, he muses on subjects ranging from space, angels and destiny to time, science and meaning in life. According to scientists / The world’s made of string / That buzzes and fuzzes / Or some such strange thing / It’s also a donut / That curls round a hole / With middles and riddles / Just like a fish bowl / And there’s no mistaking / It’s more than 3-D / With twenty or plenty / Dimensions unseen / Still others insist / It’s really a bubble / That’s popping and bopping / Through the lenses of Hubble. Buy the paper book / Buy the e-book.

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