wayne visser | Wayne Visser

April 18, 2017

What Now? (The Unpopular Vote)

About Donald Trump’s Election as U.S. President

What now?
He won the unpopular vote
What now?
He’s an emperor without any coat
What now?
All the power’s in the hands of a fool
What now?
We’re all living under bigotry’s rule

Now we rise up and we speak out
For this is the hour of democracy’s test
Now we defend the freedoms he flouts
For this is the moment to fight for our best
Now we dig deep and we stand tall
For this is the day for our values to shine
Now we defend and we don’t fall
For this is the moment for holding the line

For our freedom and justice
We’ll march on the street
For our planet and climate
We’ll turn up the heat
For our women and children
We’ll make our voice heard
For the sake of our future
We’ll not be deterred

Now we take stock and we prepare
For this is the hour of our reckoning
Now we join up and we share
For this is the moment of beckoning
Now we align and we support
For this is the day of pulling together
Now we get tough and we retort
For this is the moment to brave out the weather

For the keepers of every faith
We’ll refuse to be divided
For the people of every race
We’ll refuse to be one-sided
For the young ones and the old
We’ll find a better direction
For the willing and the bold
We’ll fight until the next election

What now?
We take up the strain on the rope
What now?
We stand with the forces of hope
What now?
We declare for the rights we have won
What now?
We unite and take action as one

Book

Life in Transit: Favourite Travel & Tribute Poems

This creative collection, now in its 2nd edition, brings together travel and tribute poems by Wayne Visser. The anthology pays tribute to the likes of Nelson Mandela, Maya Angelou, Barack Obama, Antoni Gaudí & Leonardo da Vinci, and reflects on travels ranging from China and South Africa to Ecuador and Russia. Life is lived in the in-between / In transit / Between coming and going / Between staying and moving on / Between here and there / And what we call home / What we call settled or contented / Is merely a resting place / A station for refuelling / A nexus for reconnecting / A junction for changing direction. Buy the paper book / Buy the e-book.

April 18, 2017April 18, 2017

Forty Six

I nearly drowned, this year gone by
A feeble, frightful way to die
The waves too rough, the tide too strong
A frolic in the surf gone wrong

The year itself was full and bright
(There is no shadow without light):
My lovely daughter turned eighteen
My nephew earned the keys to life
My work took flight on silver screen
The year was peaceful, without strife

We nearly drowned, my love and I
Beneath that sunny summer sky
Dragged out to sea, the undertow
We feared it was our time to go

The other days were amply spent
On journeys, near and far, we went:
From pyramids and jungles green
To mirrored lakes and canyon walls
From mountains, caves and crystal streams
To crescent sands and gothic halls

We nearly drowned, first of July
With no regrets and no goodbye
The ocean made its power known
(At least we’d not have died alone)

The life we live is ebb and flow
The winters come, the summers go:
At times, the world is fresh and new
Love buds and blooms and casts its spell
At times, we barely make it through
We ache, we breathe, we live to tell

I nearly drowned, this year gone by
There are no rhymes or reasons why
But I’m still here, still in the mix
Alive and well at forty-six

Book

Life in Transit: Favourite Travel & Tribute Poems

April 18, 2017June 17, 2022

Lost Key

I. The Key

It was just a glimpse
A glint in the sun
A flint spark in the park
As I walked along
Lost in a daze
Amidst the maze of thoughts
And paths not taken
Futures forsaken
A flash of something
Out of place in space
And time
A rhyme interrupted
On its steady march
I glanced askance
To find the source
Of my distraction
That point of light
Which changed the course
Of flight in action
And there it lay, an object astray
Dull upon the vivid grass
Like glass that’s lost
Its sheen and shine
Until the rays
Of blue-lit days break through
The haze of dappled tree:
It was a key

II. The Lock

I bent and picked
Then gently flicked
The metal trinket free of dust
Thumbed its dent
And stroked its rust
My eyes mesmerised
By its jagged edge
And ragged mystery
Its silent history
Of openings
Of protecting and concealing
Hidden treasures
The pleasures of unlocking and revealing
An unknown nest
Of artefacts
A chest of gold
Or letters old
And fading, the lines shading
In the trace of stories
Of star struck lovers
Or soldiers’ glories and grieving mothers
Or something more mundane
A plain account of transactions
Between two parties
Now estranged, the tick and tock
Of a broken clock:
Behind the lock

III. The Keyholder

I began to meditate
Upon the lost key’s heft and shape
An object cleft from fire and steel
To reveal something
So unique, like fingerprints
Like hints of who
And clues to why
The echoed cry of one
The puzzle
Of how this story’s begun
I find myself wondering
Pacing and pondering
Tracing the mists of the owner’s travels
The twists and turns
The burns and blisters
As fate’s tapestry unravels
Leaving these fragments
Like loose threads
Fraying through life’s seasons
The reasons long since lost
The untold cost of living
Of giving without getting
Of letting
The most precious things
Disappear on wings of regret
For we forget, as we get older:
We’re the keyholder

IV. The Box

Keys without locks are castaways
Unhanded and stranded
On faraway shores
Where the cause of their being
The eye of their seeing is blinded
So as I held in my palm
This enigma, this charm
I could tell that its spell
Was unbroken
I had stumbled and fumbled upon a token
With a secret unspoken
And now in my power, this synchronous hour
I could grant a dying wish
A moment of bliss
It’s crazy I know
Yet I felt a deep flow
A tide in my head, blood red
Tugging and teasing
Ice logic unfreezing
Like a serpent in search of its tail
In a flash it came through
The thing I must do
For I knew without fail
That this was the key
That the future unlocks
And the fit was with me:
I was the box

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.

April 13, 2017April 18, 2017

Baobab

A Tribute to Africa’s Tree of Life

At the heart of the African plain
Stands a tree both old and sage:
A survivor of sunshine and rain
Silent witness to many an age

But this is no ordinary tree
For her trunk is hollow inside
And faithfully she keeps unseen
The secret of her native tribe

For her cave’s a place of birth
A haven safe from danger
This womb of Mother Earth
Is Africa’s child manger

The Baobab stands proud and strong
She serves her people as midwife
It’s been thus generations long
She’s Africa’s great Tree of Life

Book

I Am An African: Favourite Africa Poems

This creative collection, now in its 5th edition, brings together Africa poems by Wayne Visser, including the ever popular “I Am An African”, as well as old favourites like “Women of Africa”, “I Know A Place in Africa”, “Prayer for Africa” and “African Dream”. The anthology celebrates the luminous continent and its rainbow people. The updated 5th Edition includes new poems like “Africa Untamed” and “Land of the Sun”. Buy the paper book / Buy the e-book.

April 13, 2017April 18, 2017

African Odyssey

A Tribute to Botswana

Beneath the boundless African sky –
Unblemished blue overhead
And sun-bleached white on the horizon –
There is an endless African road:
Stretched long and shimmering straight
Tirelessly chasing its own vanishing point

Crossing the vast African bush –
Khaki-clad with stone buttons flashing silver
And mottled coat of green-brown and yellow-red –
Is a determined African bus:
A melting pot of tenacious travellers
Bubbling with the bright colours of adventure

They find a snaking African river –
A watery ribbon teeming with life
That quenches all who visit its cool shores –
Fraying into a wide African delta:
A floating Eden world
With arms open wide in swampy embrace

En route are remote African towns –
Echoing with fish-eagle cries of freedom
And donkey-plodding hopes for the future –
Nurturing countless African dreams:
Termite-mound aspirations reaching skyward
And ferry-chugging crossings to peace and prosperity

Among them is a wistful African poet –
At home in the bushveld of his birth
And at rest in the sands of the wilderness –
In search of eternal African mysteries:
The eroded ways of ancient flow-lines
And native answers to thirsty questions

Book

I Am An African: Favourite Africa Poems

April 13, 2017April 18, 2017

African Dream

My Africa!

As white-hot skies give way to bloodshot red
I breathe a sigh and rest my laden head
As dark descends and blinking stars pierce through
I close my weary eyes and dream of you

I dream a dream of genesis
Of teeming wildlife on the plains
I hear a tale of Eden’s bliss
Of sparks of knowledge fanned to flames

I dream a dream of beating drums
Of painted caves and hunters’ bow
I hear the voice of ancient ones
Who weave the web of what we know

I dream a dream of exodus
Of journeys over land and sea
I hear the song of restlessness
That swells with longing to be free

I run with cheetahs, graze with deer
I hunt with lions, know no fear
I soar with eagles, hide in dales
I swim with dolphins, sing with whales

I throb with music in the air
I see the swirl of rainbow flair
I feel the stomp of dancing feet
I sweat with fever’s tropic heat

I gaze into the firelight
I sit in silence, pure delight
I listen to the elders’ words
I rise upon the wings of birds

The rivers are flowing
The brown dust turned to green
The harvests are growing
In my African dream

The fathers are earning
The mothers’ love redeems
The children are learning
In my African dream

The peace-buds are blooming
The hope-streets freshly clean
The love-stalls are booming
In my African dream

As visions fade, all blurred and bled
My world unwinds like loosened thread
As daylight breaks and jet sky turns to blue
I wake refreshed with glorious dreams of you

My Africa!

Book

I Am An African: Favourite Africa Poems

April 13, 2017April 18, 2017

First People

Tribute to the San Bushmen of Africa

First people of this ancient land
Last exiles in the desert sand
To you we owe our destiny
Our struggle to be wild and free

We call you Hunter, Bushman, San
You sowed the seeds of primal Man
A gentler race we have not known
See how your legacy has grown

For millennia you lived in peace
In harmony with nature’s beasts
With tools of sinew, wood and stone
And crafts of egg-shell, quill and bone

Hunting game and digging roots
Tapping trees and plucking fruits
Night theatre around dancing fires
Click singing under starry skies

You chose the way of archers’ bow
Of hunters’ grace – the art of flow:
To give and take and see the whole
To honour life and feed the soul

You felt the weather in your bones
And sensed earth’s subtle undertones
You heard the stars whisper ‘tsau! tsau!’
And rode the wind, we know not how

The landscape generations trod
Recalls to us your Mantis god
Windswept by myths and scattered tales
Told and retold on dusty trails

Then came the time of racial blight
A target for both black and white
The hunter became hunted prey
Pre-dawning your extinction day

You were the masters of the hunt
But progress left your arrows blunt
And tracking skills that reigned supreme
Are all but lost in history’s stream

Yet even now your soul still breathes
On cave walls and in rocky cleaves
In ochre, charcoal, mud and lime
Your gallery now transcends time

We see you smile in every face
Whose eyes reflect that ancient place
In wrinkled elders old as earth
Whose wisdom joins us with our birth

First people of this ancient land
If we could only understand
Your ancient ways still hold the key
To setting ourselves truly free

Book

I Am An African: Favourite Africa Poems

April 13, 2017April 18, 2017

Africa Calls to Me

Africa calls to me
With the beat of her drums that mark my days
And the words of her poets that guide my ways
With the crash of the waves that hug her shores
And the sounds of the rain that soak her pores
Africa calls to me
With the tears of mothers that stain her soil
And the laughter of children that ease her toil
With the rattle of guns that pierce her calm
And the bustle of streets that sing her psalm
Africa calls to me

The sounds of Africa
Are the cries of the world’s forgotten child
Taking us back into the womb of creation
The sounds of Africa
Are the songs of the world’s untamed wild
Filling our ears with hymns of oblation
The sounds of Africa
Are the screams of the world’s disturbing fears
Begging us to embrace transformation
The sounds of Africa
Are the words of the world’s neglected seers
Pointing us to the star of salvation

Africa speaks to me
Through the babble of markets on the breeze
And the lament of hawkers so forlorn
Through the heaving of fishers on the seas
And the hoot of taxis at dusk and dawn
Africa speaks to me
Through the roar of lions basking at noon
And the snigger of hyenas in the night
Through the rumble of elephants in tune
And the stir of gorillas out of sight
Africa speaks to me

The sounds of Africa
Are the lashing of slaves that haunt her past
And the victory songs of those who are free
The sounds of Africa
Are the crumbling of ways that cannot last
And the hopes for new possibilities
The sounds of Africa
Are the whispers in a din of despair
And the tunes in a maze of lost and found
The sounds of Africa
Are the notes in the symphony we share
And the joy in a land of light and sound

Africa calls to me
With the cry of eagles that frees my soul
And the hush of sand dunes that soothes my mind
With the call of loeries that makes me whole
And the cicadas drone that blots out time
Africa calls to me
With the crackle of fires that light her skies
And the rustle of leaves that swish her sighs
With the chant of her songs that move my feet
And the pulse of her heart that makes mine beat
Africa calls to me

Book

I Am An African: Favourite Africa Poems

April 13, 2017April 18, 2017

Ode to the Elephant

Your sacred image looms large
Painted on the rough canvass of Africa
Traced in the shifting sands of imagination
Etched into the hidden caves of the soul

The herd moves as one
Graceful skaters gliding across the shimmering mirage of dusty desert pans
Misty shadows playing hide and seek in the shrouded valley forests
Granite boulders in magical motion over the mottled bushveld plains

You are one of Eden’s first-born
Survivor of frozen time
Grown old and wise
Before men learned to crawl

The air trembles in harmonic rapture
As you chant your esoteric song
And the earth shudders in shameful guilt
As you trumpet your just anger

You are the maker of roads
The planter of gardens
And the builder of dams

Your trail of destruction
Is the path of creation
For all that follow in your wake

Death brings sorrow and mourning
Life heralds the joy of cheeky youth
In between, an invisible web of caring is strung
And a sacred maze of kith and kin is trod

Oh, great icon of this Earth
Memory of our faded past
Conscience of our troubled present
Prophet of our hopeful future
Lead us in your gentle footsteps
To that which is greater than our little selves

Book

I Am An African: Favourite Africa Poems

April 13, 2017April 18, 2017

Shine, Africa, Shine!

I. The Dark Continent

Africa – the dark continent:
So named by explorers
Because the candle of their knowledge
Was feeble and flickering;
Because their ignorance
Was a void of deep space.

Africa – the dark continent:
So named by conquerors
Because the torch of their mission
Was sordid and smoking;
Because their prejudice
Was a cave of grey ghouls.

Africa – the dark continent:
So named by scholars
Because the lamp of their enquiry
Was paltry and passing;
Because their theories
Were coded in white and black.

II. Enemies Of The Sun

Africa is the continent of light,
But there are enemies of the sun:
Despots who snuff out flames,
Gangsters who skulk in alleys
And traders who deal in darkness.

Africa is the continent of light,
But there are crevices of shade:
Valleys where black blood flows,
Corridors where corruption festers
And markets where slavery sells.

Africa is the continent of light,
But there is darkness, it is true:
For every beam casts its shadow,
Every sun has its eclipse
And there is no day without night.

III. The Day of Dawning

Africa’s day is dawning,
So let those who talk of shadows
Bring their light to bear;
And those who proclaim darkness
Open their eyes wider.

Africa’s day is dawning,
So let those who feed the night
Find themselves cold and hungry;
And those who steal the light
Find themselves alone and imprisoned.

Africa’s day is dawning,
So let those who pedal black fear
Discover the beauty of sunrise;
And those who dwell in tunnels
Find their inner flame.

IV. The Land Of Sunshine

Africa is the land of sunshine
Where topaz skies stretch out
From here-now to forever
And each scarlet sunrise
Renews faith, hope and life.

Africa is the hearth of firelight
Where dancing flames leap up
For distant starry dreams
And glowing orange embers
Warm the hands of friendship.

Africa is the pot of rainbows
Where every pregnant storm cloud
Crackles with electricity
And each shroud of grey mist
Shimmers iridescent.

V. The Shining Continent

Shine, Africa, shine!
Nourish our shared earth
And feed our common roots;
Green our tree of life
And bear sweet fruits of peace.

Shine, Africa, shine!
Spark our imagination
And confound us with your brilliance;
Flame our deepest desires
And dazzle us with your colours.

Shine, Africa, shine!
Fire our greatest passions
And empower us with your stories;
Blaze brightly on our soul quest
And inspire us with your light.