the journey of a budding author



And now for our traffic report. . .
A pedestrian knocked down at the corner of. . .

Traffic slows as people stop to gape
And then drive on
Untouched, uncaring.
All they feel is anger
And frustration;

This death, this tragic
Passing of a fellow human being, is
Just a hindrance that
Has made them late.

Late for another round of pointless nothings,
Increasing speed in a heedless
Head-long dash towards their own transition
From this life.

Not a thought for
The dead man’s
Loved ones
Who wait in vain
And weep.


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Impressions of a Summer Evening

The full moon just risen, calls me from my hot and airless room to sit and marvel at the drama of approaching nightfall.
Bats rejoicing in the freedom of the dusk, flitting in the fading light like eager children unconfined by lessons.
Bird mothers murmur their blessings to drowsy chicks, as night birds startle awake to join the bats at catching dinner.
I sit on sun-warmed bricks and watch as large-bosomed clouds are softly kissed adieu by fading day, while crickets strike up their endless one-note serenade.
Lights stream from the house, and curtains swish across the windows. Shall I go in? I feel remote and loath to return to mundane things like supper and the seven o’clock news.
I turn away to watch again. Shadows grow and friendly corners of the garden are a bit unsettling now; I cringe at the thought of treading the familiar stepping stones to sit on that now mysterious bench. I dare not disturb the creatures of the darkness, the wiggly, bitey, ghosty things that may just lurk there.
Distant voices from next-door houses are tranquil sounds, like sleepy birds, settling in the safety of four walls that shelter them against the night.
From quite close by I hear the croaky call of the newly-woken Dikkop in the veld across the way, and the panicked cries of Plovers wheeling in the sky above to warn away some predator from babies in their nests.

The sun has gone and left to itself, the moonlight bathes the garden in an eerie silver twilight.

Chilly, I creep in to fetch a shawl and hoping to elude detection I tiptoe out once more to tryst with night.
But then,’Oh, is that where you were? We were wondering where you’d got to?
What’s for supper?’
The spell is broken,
and humdrum duty encircles me once more.


From Darkness into Life

Darkness . . .

Nothing . . .

A reek of putrefaction . . .

Cold icy Death has claimed me.

Before due time

My life is ended.

Sin binds me

And confines me

And holds me on this unrelenting stone.

Helpless, bound in funeral bands,

My flesh decaying.



And then . . .

Oh Joy!

A Voice comes!

Loud. Strong with Authority

And Power.

O, Irresistible Voice . . .

Lazarus! Come Forth!


Love’s Gift

I feel the barbs of the enemy’s hatred.

I hear accusations I cannot deny.

I shrink from the torment of sins

long remembered

And fall on my face

To hide all my shame;

For who can stand before


In His splendour?

Strong hands are extended to tenderly

Lift me.

Work-roughened hands that are

Scarred with terrible wounds.


Lord I have sinned.


I know,

Says All-Knowing.


So nothing is hidden?


I see all, beloved.


Then, how can you love me?

Don’t You remember…?


No, it is gone in Eternal Unknowing.

I love you because I am Love.

I covered your sin with one

Act Eternal,

And now all I see through

All-Seeing eyes,

I see white garments that are

Washed at a price beyond rubies and gold.

Yet freely they’re given to those who will have them.

Then all I see

Is Me in you,

Your hope of all glory.



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God’s Call

We build our shining towers

Expecting you

To enter into our

tinseled tabernacles

And graciously extend you

an invitation

To tamely sit upon the throne

Of our own making.

To walk in holy, hushed and

Hallowed halls,

Undisturbed by hurly burly

Reprobates outside

To rubberstamp our plans

And leave our hearts


Allowing us to live our lives

In constant

And self-seeking pleasure

Disregarding love

For fellowman

And justice.

And yet you stand afar ?

Almighty says:

I am a disreputable God

Not enshrined in hallowed halls.

A Friend of smelly sinners

I glory in loud praise

And extravagant worship,

Coming from hearts

That overflow with gratitude.

I am not tame

I cannot be confined

In your limited expectations.

I am unpredictable

An offence to religious hearts

And I call you

To come outside the camp

And bear

My Disrepute.