a dream

i wish i could write so that the words flow like water gushing from a mountain in an untouched part of mother earth. i wish i could write the words to describe the beauty of a field of bright colourful flowers that reflects a glow that transforms a landscape in to a kaleidoscope of natures beauty. i wish i could write the feelings of the first kiss you have that you feel deep deep down to the very core of your soul. i wish i could write words that impact your conscious mind like the moment you realize all men will never be considered equal ever. i wish i could write words that will explain a smile that lives in your heart forever between you and reason you smiling. i wish i could write words that hit the spot like ice cold water on an absolutely blistering day. i wish i could write words that could just touch your life in one moment that would have an everlasting effect on the ones you hold most dear to you. i wish i could write words that inspire a human to achieve the commitments they have with destiny. i wish i could write words that will live not for an age but for all time. i wish i could write my own words that nobody before me has said any better. i wish i could write.

***

*Words by Ridwaan Kader

*Photograph by David De Beer

Heart Blood

I can feel it deep inside of me.

It swirls and swells

in the pit of my being,

tentatively pushing

against my viscera.

(more…)

Megan van Wyk

I am Megan van Wyk. Currently doing my first year in Performance Arts in Port Elizabeth.
I have a passion for music, words, images and the resonance that this finds in the souls of other people.
I’m happiest out of doors and finding small interesting bits. These are the ones I photograph.

A Silly Thing

You are my love token, my muse,

my attempt at savoirfaire.

Yet I know I cannot quite have you.

My unknowing place knows.

That doesn’t diminish

the buzz of my thought-cage though.

(more…)

Natalie Brent

‘Is there any way out of the mind?’ a famous and possibly deranged

woman once asked. Miss Plath and I have very much in common, let alone

the above question. I escape ‘the’ mind by living vicariously through

my words. I experience my true self when I have pen in hand and I feel

an unspoken connection with the universe when I am able to stain a

stark page with the madness contained within me. I have been writing

my debut novel for 15 years now (har har – haven’t we all?). The

subject matter, characters, plot and sub-plots keep on changing and

thus I decided to traipse back into the boudoir of poetry writing,

hoping to revive my creative brain and to spark a thousand pages of

awe-inspiring writing. My poetry is definitely driven by emotion and

is hopefully as honest and exposing to the reader as it is to me.

Exorcism of a Butterfly

I’m fortunate really.

I had him at his best.

The slug, wrapped in his painful cocoon, emerged with a little encouragement.

And he was beautiful. Magnificent, even. Powerful, but fragile.

Suddenly capable of flight.

But a Butterfly has a very short lifespan

And looking back from a year later, I can hardly recall his brilliant colours.

Slowly fading to grey.

***

*Words by Caroline Morgan

*Photograph by Catherine Scott

Ridwaan Kader – Writer

I am a poet/novelist in training with no fans as yet. I live my life to bring a smile to at least one person a day. My life is powered by the pursuit of love and inspired by laughter. My work reflects my inner soul my personality reflects the society I refuse to accept and that refuses to accept me. Writing is something I can’t force I get inspired and put the words that flow from my thoughts on to any medium that will accept it. My words are the foot steps that light up the darkness of my imagination, that is fuelled by hip hop and the poets of the street .My words are me. I am not my words.

Welcome to the World

Stop, listen, can you hear the hustle and bustle

The cities and streets are alive

Colours pave the way for an international affair

Stop, listen, can you hear the vuvuzela’s

A touch of African pizzazz to gain momentum

Stop , listen, can you hear the clock ticking (more…)

Catherine Scott – Photographer

Mother of two insanely busy little boys. Educator; computer-user; photographer.

In Silent Contemplation

In silent contemplation

of the moment

When we sit and watch the stars die

to morning light

firelight dances

uncertain certainties

we watch sparks rise

wood becomes ash

(more…)