My Attempts at Writing Poetry
I Shook My Fist At God
(Revisiting the Job Experience)
I went outside and stood in the darkness of the night
and I shook my fist at God,
and raged: “You have no right,
You have no right
to do this to me!”
You have no right
to do this to the love of my life.
You have no right
to gaze down on me in lofty splendour from above
and dispense disaster,
failure,
misery,
and death!”
I stood outside and shook my fist in the night;
and said to God: “You have no right!”
This was my equivalent of Dylan’s rage,
rage against the dying of the light.
I stood in silence, overawed
by the boldness—or was it plain stupidity--
that had made me shake my fist at God.
I stood, in trepidating silence,
waiting for the bolt,
the bolt of lightning from above
that would say all of this to me:
“I am the God who has demanded all your love
but all your puny love for me is as nothing--
like dew vanished in the morn--
compared with the love that I’ve had for you
since before the day that you were born”.
“But get this clear, before you think you have a right
to raise the hand of the ignorant to the seat of the Mighty.
I owe you nothing, nothing either great or small,
but you owe me everything, you owe me your all.
You owe your very life to me!”
“You think you know it all;
You think you know the misery,
You think you know the suffering,
You think you know the grief.”
That is what I thought He’d say,
But all He said was this:
“Remember; I too know what it’s like.
I stood and watched my Son,
Watched Him as He died on a cross
for crimes He didn’t commit.
He died for you!”
My heart was “strangely warmed”.
Kevin S Weir
14 March 2012
Africa's Son
Get used to it! I’m a son of Africa.
Don’t call me a European—I’m an African!
I was born here, of parents who were born here,
I know of no other home.
I don’t straddle the continents,
with one foot in Africa
and the other in Europe.
I live here; I belong here; I love here;
I was born here—a son of Africa;
I found a wife here—a daughter of Africa;
We raised a family here—children of Africa;
I plan to die here.
I am willing to fight
for the right
to live here!
It is a birthright. It is inalienable.
I have no other place to go.
I don’t want any other place to go.
Even if I visit other lands, other nations,
Africa will always be my home.
This is where I am rooted;
This is where I grew up;
This is where my loyalty lies.
When the time comes for my life to end,
May it end under African skies!
I am a son of Africa;
Raised under the African sun.
It doesn’t matter that
my eyes are green and
my skin is “white”.
It’s what’s in my heart that makes me who I am.
Kevin S Weir
1 September 2012
Don’t call me a European—I’m an African!
I was born here, of parents who were born here,
I know of no other home.
I don’t straddle the continents,
with one foot in Africa
and the other in Europe.
I live here; I belong here; I love here;
I was born here—a son of Africa;
I found a wife here—a daughter of Africa;
We raised a family here—children of Africa;
I plan to die here.
I am willing to fight
for the right
to live here!
It is a birthright. It is inalienable.
I have no other place to go.
I don’t want any other place to go.
Even if I visit other lands, other nations,
Africa will always be my home.
This is where I am rooted;
This is where I grew up;
This is where my loyalty lies.
When the time comes for my life to end,
May it end under African skies!
I am a son of Africa;
Raised under the African sun.
It doesn’t matter that
my eyes are green and
my skin is “white”.
It’s what’s in my heart that makes me who I am.
Kevin S Weir
1 September 2012
The Pleasures of the Past
The pleasures of the past impart
a sweet flavour to the tears of the present.
The anticipation of future joy gives a fragrance to today.
As I look back, I feel grateful;
As I look forward, I anticipate joy.
And then…
And then…
I am confronted by the gap between the now and the yet to come.
Kevin S. Weir
December 2011
a sweet flavour to the tears of the present.
The anticipation of future joy gives a fragrance to today.
As I look back, I feel grateful;
As I look forward, I anticipate joy.
And then…
And then…
I am confronted by the gap between the now and the yet to come.
Kevin S. Weir
December 2011
I Wish That For a Moment
I wish that for a moment I were smoke;
rising up beyond the skies,
wafting up where my beloved flies.
I wish that for a moment we could blend--
her smoke and mine—as one.
Together we could wend
our way in loving silence;
Blend--
each with the other--
Until I am she and she is I,
living together in time without end.
To have that time together,
even though it end,
would be so sweet.
Instead, I’m left below, while she’s above.
Nothing’s left for me,
save the memory of her love.
Kevin S. Weir
December 2011
Die Berge Van Die Boland
As their splendid slopes soar significantly skywards
I am driven to my knees.
I grovel before such overwhelming beauty--
such splendour --
such sky-slicing grandeur.
All the beauty,
All the harmony,
of all the greatest music ever heard
rings in my ears at this great vista.
And yet…
And yet…
I am blinded,
deafened,
muted by this sight.
My eyes have a sensory overload.
My ears hear a silent landscape,
as my mouth stumbles in its pathetic effort
to utter the words of praise
that churn—unvoiced—inside my brain.
O Lord! If You are more beautiful than Your creation,
With what words can I come before You
to utter Your praise?
Kevin S. Weir
January 2012
I am driven to my knees.
I grovel before such overwhelming beauty--
such splendour --
such sky-slicing grandeur.
All the beauty,
All the harmony,
of all the greatest music ever heard
rings in my ears at this great vista.
And yet…
And yet…
I am blinded,
deafened,
muted by this sight.
My eyes have a sensory overload.
My ears hear a silent landscape,
as my mouth stumbles in its pathetic effort
to utter the words of praise
that churn—unvoiced—inside my brain.
O Lord! If You are more beautiful than Your creation,
With what words can I come before You
to utter Your praise?
Kevin S. Weir
January 2012
I Miss You
When I call your name to say: “I love you”--
you’re never there to hear me any more.
When I think: “I must show Linny this”--
I stumble and fall
into a chasm of pain
from which there’s no relief.
When I rush home to be with you
it’s futile…
I rush home to an empty house--
a house that’s no longer a home--
that’s replete only with memories.
Kevin S. Weir
January 2012
you’re never there to hear me any more.
When I think: “I must show Linny this”--
I stumble and fall
into a chasm of pain
from which there’s no relief.
When I rush home to be with you
it’s futile…
I rush home to an empty house--
a house that’s no longer a home--
that’s replete only with memories.
Kevin S. Weir
January 2012
No Matter Though the Night Be Dark
No matter though the night be dark,
As I struggle through the fight.
Ahead I see a bright, small spark
That leads me on towards the light.
Though I be crouched on lofty height
And the one way out seems “down”;
On wings of hope I can take flight,
And quest on upwards for the crown.
The crown of victory I seek
Lifts me up above fear’s blight.
It leads me to the joyous peak
Where all that’s wrong comes right.
Though I am bound in despair’s dark night;
Though enclosed by prison bars;
My eyes gaze up and see a sight--
I have a vision of the stars.
And in among the stars I see,
However sad my plight,
A look of love that’s fixed on me;
My Saviour’s presence—shining bright.
Kevin S. Weir
March 2012
As I struggle through the fight.
Ahead I see a bright, small spark
That leads me on towards the light.
Though I be crouched on lofty height
And the one way out seems “down”;
On wings of hope I can take flight,
And quest on upwards for the crown.
The crown of victory I seek
Lifts me up above fear’s blight.
It leads me to the joyous peak
Where all that’s wrong comes right.
Though I am bound in despair’s dark night;
Though enclosed by prison bars;
My eyes gaze up and see a sight--
I have a vision of the stars.
And in among the stars I see,
However sad my plight,
A look of love that’s fixed on me;
My Saviour’s presence—shining bright.
Kevin S. Weir
March 2012
Hold On!
Hold On! Through the silence of your God;
When the one whom you hold dear has just departed,
When the plans you made have stopped before they started.
Hold On!
Hold On! Though the way ahead be rough;
When every path you take leads to a pit,
When all that is within you wants to quit.
Hold On!
Hold On! Through the blackness of despair;
When, through every single gasping breath,
You feel your only hope is fixed in death.
Hold On!
Hold On! Through the darkness of the night;
When it seems there is no hope for one more day,
When no one heeds or answers when you pray.
Hold On! Ahead there’s one True Light.
Kevin S. Weir
June 2012
When the one whom you hold dear has just departed,
When the plans you made have stopped before they started.
Hold On!
Hold On! Though the way ahead be rough;
When every path you take leads to a pit,
When all that is within you wants to quit.
Hold On!
Hold On! Through the blackness of despair;
When, through every single gasping breath,
You feel your only hope is fixed in death.
Hold On!
Hold On! Through the darkness of the night;
When it seems there is no hope for one more day,
When no one heeds or answers when you pray.
Hold On! Ahead there’s one True Light.
Kevin S. Weir
June 2012