For a profile of Lewis Watling see

http://scenicsouth.co.za//showcasing/our-writers/

A Touch of Madness

When you bring your touch of madness,

and I bring mine

into A Touch of Madness

and they intertwine

from our mutual sadness

we brew new wine,

and suddenly there’s joy in everything.

Can you not feel it when your heart goes

Zing?

When the sound of different voices

reach listening ears

they may not be one’s choices,

may not end one’s fears,

but something within rejoices

at what it hears,

and suddenly the very air will ring.

Can you not sense it when your heart would

Sing?

I often wonder how this touch of madness

has such energy

to dispel our sadness

so creatively;

how hearts are filled with gladness

so constantly

when suddenly life out there begins to swing.

Can you not fly with it when your soul takes

Wing?

Inclement Spring

It’s never cold in Cape Town, so they say

and maybe that was so until a trembling day,

Spring Equinox of the century`s ninth year,

brought with it a final shivering fear.

For weeks low-dipping temperatures and rain

and wind had chilled us to the bone

and xenophobic clashes had made manifest old pain

till all of us could feel the chill of the Alone.

In the supermarkets prices leapt.

In the townships frantic mothers wept.

On street children the Spring sun seldom shone,

and, in parliament a President was gone.

We reeled to look out on this sorry mess,

this vista of uncertainty and emptiness.

But stay! Suppose there were another way

to see the profile of this awesome day?

Suppose it were the harbinger of change,

the happy herald of the Re-arrange?

A Time when Presidents rejoin the rank and file;

a Time when motorists all walk the extra mile;

a Time when graceless grin gives way to smile;

a Time to feel.

a Time to welcome wind and sun and shower;

a Time to plant out tree and herb and flower;

a Time to loose our own creative power;

a Time to heal;

a Time that readily rewards the daring;

a Time enriched by instant love and caring;

a Time when everything`s re-shaped by sharing;

a Time to sing.?

Then we`d never belly-ache in vain,

be overwhelmed by frequent spells of wind and rain,

nor be inclined to label things again:

Inclement Spring.