Scattered Books

I am single minded
Among my scattered books
And laser focused
Behind my fractured looks

I am neatly ordered
Beneath my messy papers
And purpose driven
Throughout my winding capers

I am quietly musing
Amidst the idle chatter
And always searching
For the words that matter

So judge not substance
By the mask of reason
Nor gauge true progress
By the whim of season

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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Riddle 1

What:
Keeps forever but is over in an instant?
Inspires loyalty but can lead to betrayal?
Speaks volumes but says not a word?
Signals greeting but bids fare thee well?

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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Under-Rated Pleasures

In life
There are
So many
Under-rated
Pleasures

Like waking up next to someone you love
And feeling the soft warmth of their body
The rise and fall of their reassuring breath
And the beating of their heart next to yours

There are
So many
Under-rated
Pleasures
In life

Like drifting between the worlds of dreaming and waking
When reality is still malleable as clay in your hands
When everything is possible and nothing forbidden
And the day’s worries are as unreal as distant clouds

So many
Under-rated
Pleasures
In life
There are

Like seeing an elderly couple walking hand-in-hand
Still together and in love after all these years
Watching them smile at each other with affection
Or better still, being that elderly couple

Under-rated
Pleasures
In life
There are
So many

Like the joy of children playing without a care
Or the lilt of a busker’s tune on a busy pavement
Like the sweet scent of a passing stranger
Or the wafted delights of food that makes you drool

Pleasures
In life
There are
So many
Under-rated

Like watching a robin bobbing outside your window
Or listening to a cat purr when you stroke it
Like the boundless energy of a dog running free
Or the tiny paws of a squirrel clutching its nut-treasure

There are
In life
So many
Under-rated
Pleasures

Like the bliss of stepping into a hot bath or shower
And the flicker of scented candles in the dark
Like the flood of relief after you were bursting to go
Or the buzz you get from a particularly good sneeze

In life
There are
So many
Pleasures
Under-rated

Like the bouquet of a good wine on the palette
Or a mature cheese that lingers in your mouth
Like the surprising joy of pancakes in the morning
Or the decadence of chocolate melting on your tongue

There are
So many
Pleasures
Under-rated
In life

Like the voice of a friend on the other end of the line
Or a pillow-soft hug when you need it most
Like an unexpected kiss or a bunch of flowers
Or the wispy words of a poet in your ear

In life
There are
So many
Under-rated
Pleasures

Wayne Visser © 2008

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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Synchronicity

Can you read the signs
Along the humming highways
Of our networked minds?

Can you see the reflections
In the meditative mirrors
Of our subtle connections?

Can you hear the musings
From the covert caves
Of our fated choosings?

Can you sense the complicity
In the overlapping orbits
Of our psycho-synchronicity?

Wayne Visser © 2003

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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Song of the Stars

What note am I? What transcendent tone
Which resonates in chords unknown
And reverberates in harmony
An unseen cosmic symphony?

What grain am I? What magic dust
Which congeals to form an earthy crust
Of mountain, valley, beach and plain
An unseen cosmic soul terrain?

What spark am I? What burst of light
Which dances over embers bright
And flickers flames of deep desire
An unseen cosmic questing fire?

I am nothing and all, the same and unique
The beginning I cherish, the end that I seek
I am mortal, eternal, nearby and far
An unseen cosmic song of the stars

Wayne Visser © 1997

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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Real Magic

I know some real magicians
The living, laughing kind
Witches and wizards of life
If you know how to look, you’ll find

The secret of their magic lore
Is to know what things can be
In every tiny acorn’s core
They see a giant oak tree

The spells they cast from day to day
Are proof of creation’s worth
In every breath of liquid thought
They ensure the world’s rebirth

The potions mixed in bubbling brew
Are ideas and ideals refined
In every active ingredient
They nourish the global mind

The wonders that they manifest
Are conjured from patient deeds
In every conscious act of will
They plant a bed of seeds

I know some real magicians
The living, laughing kind
Witches and wizards of life
If you know how to look, you’ll find

Wayne Visser © 2002

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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Life Scribes

A fresh sunrise
A blank white page
Where we as scribes
Record our days

Some words are wise
Some foolish too
We write our lines
By what we do

The lows and highs
Are traced with ink
Hellos, goodbyes
The thoughts we think

Time flits and flies
But not before
We note our lives
And play the score

Wayne Visser © 2008

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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Musings on Morphic Time

I. Measures of time

In ages past we have mapped the skies
Chartered its cycles
And plotted time against calendar and clock

Today we replace cogs with quartz
And tick-tock with digital pulse
Surrounding ourselves with time fragments

We have tugged and teased the elastic of time
In our stretching towards the stars
Light years beyond our reach

We have sliced and diced the heartbeat of time
In our journeying inside the atom
Vibrating at femto-second pace

We have analysed time in our laboratories
As if by dissecting a butterfly
We can understand its beauty

II. Music of time

Time is a song
With interwoven sounds, rhythms and rhymes
Of harmony and discord

Humanity is deaf to the music of time
Fallen out of sync and out of tune
With the universal resonance

We have become slaves
To the hour, the quarter, the year
Chained to artificial time

We should be dancing to the beat
Of the moon, the generations, the living earth
Liberated by nature’s time

Instead, we are dying
Poisoned by our selfish short-sightedness
But time will not blink an eye at our passing

III. Masks of time

Time is a cruel slayer
When it destroys our youth, our hopes and dreams
And reclaims our loved ones

Time is a kind benefactor
When it nurtures our wisdom, our pleasures and passions
And fuels evolution in all life

Time is an impassive onlooker
When it observes our species, our civilizations and planet
And sees cycles of birth and death

Time is a master magician
When it conjures our memories, our desires and destinies
And tricks us into believing

Time is an innocent child
When it plays with building blocks of the universe
And creates marvels of energy and light

IV. Masters of time

Our greatest power
Lies in the choices we make
About how we spend our time

Time is clay in our hands
For us to mould and manipulate, to shape and sculpt
Into symbols of meaning

Time does not dictate to us
Whether to heal or harm, to love or hate
But time and karma are allies

Time smiles on concerted effort
Frowns on lazy expectations of entitlement
And rewards diligence and perseverance

Our greatest task
Lies in how we are able respond
To the gifts of time

V. Mysteries of time

Scientists and mystics rent the veil
On the temple of absolute time
Revealing a fourth dimension of relativity

Seers and prophets removed the mask
On the face of linear time
Gazing with equal clarity on past, present and future

Astronomers and imagineers opened the portal
On the matrix of time travel possibilities
Journeying through wormholes in space and mind

Yet many secrets remain
Held by time close to her breast
Until we are brave enough to call her bluff

Some say that God is eternal
That our destiny lies within a timeless realm
Only time will tell!

Wayne Visser © 2001

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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Possibility

Could it be
Reality
Is not a lot of what
There is to see?

Is it true
That there’s a clue
In rings and wings and things
Out of the blue?

What if skies
Before our eyes
Are bright with flight of light
That never dies?

What if trees
Sway in the breeze
And swoon and croon in tune
With hidden seas?

Is it true
That me and you
Each swirl and twirl and curl
With subtle hue?

Could it be
Eternity
Is not the plot of what
We choose to see?

Wayne Visser © 2009

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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Tree of Life

Original seed
In the womb of mother earth
Germinated by a desire for meaning
Nurtured by the water of evolution

Founding roots
In the fiery lava of unconsciousness
Anchored by the principles of life
Thirsty for the mineral elements of sustenance

Tender tendrils
In the dark humus of creativity
Stretched towards the warmth of light
Called forth by the sky of destiny

Budding leaves
In the gentle rays of first knowledge
Turned to face the fire of passion
Tracking forever the sun of inspiration

Sturdy stem
In the changing winds of time
Joining our mother earth and father sky
Holder of the sap of wisdom

Spreading branches
In the varied seasons of the soul
Extended in the fellowship of love
Umbrella for the shadow of opposites

Succulent fruits
In the bountiful harvest of achievement
Fermenting new ideas under the moonlight
Spawning the seeds of the future

Exquisite flowers
In the colourful spectrum of rainbow spirit
Reflected in the stars of illumination
Unfolding the petals of enlightenment

Sacred symbol
In the harmonious voices of diverse traditions
Dxui to the Bushmen, Simakade to the Zulus
Kabala of the Jews, Eden of the Christians

Tree of Life
In the cosmic worlds of seen and unseen reality
Forever the inspired muse of creation
Connect us to the forest of the living whole

Wayne Visser © 2000

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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