Saturday, September 20, 2008

Do you ever smell it?


Written by Colin Immelman.

What do I enjoy more than a warm, sunny day?
A cool, soft evening breeze, carrying a hint of rain.
Draw deep on each scented breath,
For it carries the smell of rain, oh so fresh!

I love the sudden, powerful rush of a shower,
Making me aware of God Almighty’s endless and immeasurable Power.
Or the soft pitter patter of tiny drops on the roof,
Of His gentleness again, a barely audible proof.

Rainwater into the gutter, a soft humming and splatter,
Now you know what to me really matter?
That with every drop He sends us so fair,
Is a message from Him: “I love you all and really, I do care!”

So I say, “Thank You Dear Lord, every drop for us You can spare,
For we need it to keep our earth from being dry and bare.
Coz rain keeps everything on earth alive,
Oh Lord, for without it, You know, we cannot survive.

Friday, September 12, 2008

Crabby Old Woman.

This is one of the poems I am not the author of, but it brought a lump to my throat and a tear to my eye, so I thought it wise to share it with you.

Crabby Old Woman - one to think about!

When an old lady died in the geriatric ward of a small hospital near Dundee, Scotland, it was believed that she had nothing left of any value.

Later, when the nurses were going through her meager possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.
One nurse took her copy to Ireland. The old lady's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the North Ireland Assn. for Mental Health.
A slide presentation has also been made based on her simple, but eloquent poem.
And this little old Scottish lady, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this 'anonymous' poem winging across the Internet:

Crabby Old Woman

What do you see, nurses?
What do you see?
What are you thinking,
When you're looking at me?

A crabby old woman,
Not very wise,
Uncertain of habit,
With faraway eyes.

Who dribbles her food,
And makes no reply,
When you say in a loud voice,
'I do wish you'd try!'

Who seems not to notice,
The things that you do,
And forever is losing,
A stocking or shoe

Who, resisting or not
Lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding,
The long day to fill?

Is that what you're thinking?
Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse,
You're not looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am,
As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding,
As I eat at your will.

I'm a small child of ten,
With a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters,
Who love one another.

A young girl of sixteen,
With wings on her feet,
Dreaming that soon now,
A lover she'll meet.

A bride soon at twenty,
My heart gives a leap,
As I make the vows
That I promised to keep.

At twenty-five now,
I have young of my own,
Who need me to guide,
And a secure happy home.

A woman of thirty,
My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other,
With ties that should last.

At forty, my young sons,
Have grown and are gone,
But my man's beside me,
To see I don't mourn.

At fifty once more,
Babies play round my knee,
Again we know children,
My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me,
My husband is dead,
I look at the future,
I shudder with dread.

For my young are all rearing
Young of their own,
And I think of the years,
And the love that I've known.

I'm now an old woman,
And nature is cruel,
'Tis jest to make old age,
Look like a fool.

The body, it crumbles,
Grace and vigour depart,
There is now a stone
Where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass,
A young girl still dwells,
And now and again,
My battered heart swells.

I remember the joys,
I remember the pain,
And I'm loving and living
Life over again.

I think of the years,
All too few, gone too fast,
And accept the stark fact
That nothing can last.

So open your eyes, people,
Open and see,
Not a crabby old woman;
Look closer - see ME!!

Remember this poem when you next meet an old person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within.
We will all, one day, be there, too!

I love to share this poem.
And don't forget the crabby old men either!**********************************************************************

Thursday, September 11, 2008

A place to hang my hat.


Written by Colin Immelman.

Tom McAskill is huntin’, an ex Texas Ranger,
Slick with a six gun, he never wanted any kinda rep’tation.
He’s been over the mountain and thru the creek a mite,
But ‘s now huntin’ a place to light,
To hang his hat and guns,
To stop working for the other ones.

So he trots into this little cow town Pinewood,
Oblivious of the fact that all hell is about to break loose.
Forced into a range war over rustled cattle,
Reluctantly he joins the battle.

There is this blue eyed cowgirl with long blond hair,
Taller than most and a face, oh so fair.
She rustles his heart without a shootin’ iron or rope,
And against a woman’s power he had little hope.

He has his job cut out for him, no kiddin’,
‘Specially as it can’t be done without any killin’.
Brennan, Sandy, Red and Parks, nursin’ their cows, ranchers all,
Vyin’ for position, an all out range war.

Now no one trusts him, ‘specially him bein’ a stranger,
Until he pins on the star again, the one reinstatin’ him as Ranger.
So he starts cleanin’ up the mess,
Bringin’ justice to this world, that’s what he does best.
Fightin’, palaverin’, riding and shootin’,
All in a days work, and as for Laura, a mite a courtin’.

She however falls prey to Mason, the outlaw,
Who takes her to the border like she is an Indian squaw.
Right into the desert Tom has to ride,
To take back and bring home his future bride.

Leavin’ the Apaches to deal with the crook, Mason,
Him bein’ in no position to bargain or palaver.
His scalp they will take, that’s no lie,
But not before they put him to the test, his brains they gonna fry.

Only Mills, the killer and outlaw is still runnin’ free,
Nearly catches Tom with his pants on his knee.
But his experience saves him…. and his speed,
With a .44 six gun so slick and fast,
He ends Mills’ life with a blast!

Now Tom has found a place to hang his guns and hat,
A home with Laura, the tall, blue eyed lass.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Going nowhere in a hurry!


Take a look around you, pay attention,
What is the position of your pension?

What is the standard of education in our schools?
Are we being led around by fools?
No electricity, fuel price going through the roof,
Crime soaring, of that we all have proof.

Are we the fools for being brainwashed by those supposed to lead the way?
That everything is hunky dory, coz that’s what they say!
That it is normal for this or that to happen, we have to suffer shedding of load,
And we must pay for their mistakes, even up to 60% more is what we are told.

Now I listen to the optimist, “yes, but in other countries you’ll find the same!”
I say, “Bull dust man, I don’t live in ‘other countries’, your excuse is lame!”

To me this is a pathetic state of affair,
And like sheep we fall in, go with the flow and share,
Abide by and accept. Others? Damn, they just don’t care.
My opinion? I think we are all getting brainwashed to accept,
The sorry state of affairs, mayhem, chaos and in general a concept,
Either lower your standards or get the hell out!
Both of which many are doing, or have done, without a doubt.
So the sorry state will continue while we sit idle,
Accepting, abiding, going with the flow, man, it’s like riding a horse without a bridle!

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

A tribute to my sister.

To My sister, sweet Marisa.

There was this cute thirty – something spinster,
Who turns out to be, believe it or not, my sweet little sister.
When she got married, she didn’t want me to make a speech,
But I thought I got to say my peace.
She, born a dozen years later than me,
Would for me do nothing without charging a fee.
What she never considered was the fact that I, her Ouboet,
Had to clean her backside and wash her shit – doek.
Many’s a night or day I rocked her to sleep,
When she cried endlessly, with pain so deep,
Or took her for a ride on my bike,
And for sore eyes she was a sight,
With a diaper on her behind!
And a ‘kappie’ on her head,
While the rest of her body was bear.

Marisa, remember how you used to threaten to spill the beans,
When we, your brothers, refused to fit in with your deals.
How you would not leave me be, when my girlfriend was there,
I can still hear you threaten - “ek gaan vir pa sê!”
A sweetie or two we would offer you then,
Just so you would go play in your den.
Only to return once again when the sweetie was finished,
And you needed it to be replenished.

Now at long last you’re getting married, but I have to inform you,
Remember, a husband you can choose and surely a friend,
But with your brothers and your past, damn, sorry to say, with them you are stuck till the bitter end!!

Your Ouboet.

Die huwelik.


Geskryf deur Colin Immelman

Hier volg ‘n paar wenke vir die volmaakte huwelik,
As jy wat hier volg, deeglik weeg en wik,
Sal jy geseen wees met ‘n huwelik lank en ryk,
Sonder dat jy ooit voel die liefde neem die wyk.

Wees altyd eerlik en absoluut opreg,
Behalwe as sy dalk mag vra: “lyk ek in hierdie rok dalk effe vet?”
Steek dan jou trots in jou sak ou maat, en buig die waarheid so ‘n knert,
Deur ‘n witleuentjie hier te vertel,
Sal verseker in jou guns tel.

Onthou die vrou is altyd reg,
Al is sy ook op die verkeerde weg.
Moet nooit dink jy is ooit reg,
Want met spiëel, oogpotlood en poeierkwas en skerp tong sal sy haar saak beveg.

Jy sit gewoonlik die pot heeltemal mis
As jy enigiets as vanselfsprekend wis.
Hou altyd by haar reels,
My ou neefs,
In meervoud neergelê
En maak presies net soos sy vir jou sê….

Daar is by enige vrou slegs twee reëls,
En as sy miskien sou afwyk van daardie weg,
Meneertjie, onthou dan net reel een, “ek is altyd reg!”

As jou oë dalk mag dwaal na ‘n mooie aster,
Glo my vry, dan raak haar lippe al hoe vaster.
Twee reguit lyne, styf saamgepers,
Hiermee wys sy jou stilswyend op die regte weg.

Broer, voel jy nou maar nie alleen,
Meeste van ons sit met dieselfde probleem.
Bose geeste en demone is dit nie, wees jy nou maar daaroor ook gerus,
Maar slegte buie, pms en oortollige vetjies is die oorsaak, dis gewis.

As jy ooit sou twyfel,
Of as jy dalk voel jy raak die pad nou byster,
Al probeer jy ook vir die vale,
Onhou, een ding staan soos ‘n paal bo wate…..
Doen altyd net jou aller-bes,
Want God sal sorg vir die res!

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

A beautiful prayer.

Dear Lord, I thank You for this day,
I thank You for my being able to see
and to hear this morning.
I'm blessed because You are
a forgiving God and
an understanding God.

You have done so much for me
and You keep on blessing me.
Forgive me this day for everything
I have done, said or thought
that was not pleasing to you.

I ask now for Your forgiveness.
Please keep me safe
from all danger and harm.

Help me to start this day
with a new attitude and plenty of gratitude.
Let me make the best of each and every day
to clear my mind so that I can hear from You.

Please broaden my mind
that I can accept all things.
Let me not whine and whimper
over things I have no control over.
And give me the best response
when I'm pushed beyond my limits.

I know that when I can't pray,
You listen to my heart.
Continue to use me to do Your will.
Continue to bless me that I may be
a blessing to others.

Keep me strong that I may help the weak...
Keep me uplifted that I may have
words of encouragement for others.
I pray for those that are lost
and can't find their way.

I pray for those that are misjudged
and misunderstood.
I pray for those who
don't know You intimately.
I pray for those that don't believe.

But I thank You that I believe
that God changes people and
God changes things.
I pray for all my sisters and brothers.
For each and every family member
in their households.
I pray for peace, love and joy
in their homes; that they are out of debt
and all their needs are met.

I pray that every eye that reads this
knows there is no problem, circumstance,
or situation greater than God.
Every battle is in Your hands for You to fight.

I pray that these words be received
into the hearts of every eye that sees it
in Jesus' name. Amen!

Author unknown.

Sunday, August 31, 2008

You are.... who you are!

Who am I?
One for the girls!

Who am I?
Yes, who really? Am I good, am I bad, am I fine?
What is my status, what is my line?
Who is the person staring back at me, yes, that one in the mirror?
Do I see myself as an angel or a terror?
Fat or thin, sexy or gross?
Which feature impress other people most?

Let me answer these questions for you, simply and quickly,
The Good Lord made us, each perfectly and uniquely.
So my lady friend, be proud of who you are!
When next you look in the mirror, see a STAR!!
Cozz that’s what you really are!
Always dress to impress, dress to kill,
Even if you don’t have the looks, you’ll always have the skill!

Written by Colin Immelman.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Who are we?

Can you recall, who made this ball?
The one we live on, called earth?
For everyone of us, a berth?
Let me tell you my friend, the Good Lord made it,
In our opinion, lovely, spacious and big.

Temporary it may well be,
But it is plain to see,
We are all wonders at our Maker’s hand,
For each of us, He has a unique life planned.

Now, we don’t always listen to His voice,
And often we make our own choice.
If only we’d accept that He is our Father, simply the Best,
Who wants us to follow in his footstep.

We are His children, big or small,
Short or tall,
His wishes for us one day, by and by,
To meet with Him, up there in the big blue sky!
So let’s take hands and pray:
“Dear Lord, please accept us, healthy and strong, weak and frail,
Fetch us soon Dear Lord,
For to stay down here too long, we cannot afford.
Please don’t leave us down here too long!”
That is our song.


Jackie - Hangman
By Colin Immelman

I know you are watching me,
Up there in your tree.
Perched on your branch, oh so cool,
Paying attention every time I clean my pool.
Jackie-hangman, those tiny black eyes scanning so sharp,
Forever to find a bite to eat, oh life’s so hard.

Now you are not my favorite bird, no not in the least,
Cos you scare away some others as on them you feast.
But by day you sing so light, so sweet,
Guess it’s when you’ve had ample to eat.
Only sometimes your voice is heavy and terrible,
Guess that’s after a kill and you’re about to nibble.

No matter what your preference of food,
I too think you are cool.
You’ll be safe in your domain,
As I am fortunately not part of your food chain.
So sit there on your branch and keep me company,
What with your singing and my whistling we make quite a symphony.

Monday, August 25, 2008

Thank Thee.

Written by Colin Immelman
Why do we not more often say, "Lord, Thank Thee?
For ears to hear and eyes to see?"
Maybe we are not enough on our bended knee.
Why, we ask, is life so cruel?
Hey, take a closer look at the people who think they rule!

Celebrities, who are mere human beings,
Are put on pedestals where they get worshipped like kings and queens.
Why are we not paying closer attention to what the Good Book say?
What happened to Ascension Day?
Why was it abolished by those who have the say?
Abortions, divorces, child molestation, rape and prostitution,
Why? Are those acts really against our constitution?

Why is it so easy for us to hurt our neighbor and his feeling?
But are we not so handy in the process of forgiving, forgetting and healing?

Why must the Good Lord be kind to us, or forgive our sin?
A nation that destroys all the good that’s bin.
A world that worships Satan and his kind,
And who is totally blind,
To the beauty and purity of his creation,
Lost to us, a thankless and ignorant combination.

Don’t you think the Good Lord secretly sheds a tear in sorrow and disgust,
Because in mankind He can put no trust,
Why? He wants to save us all, rich and poor, dumb and wise,
To walk with Him one day in Paradise.
So come all, let’s take hands and kneel down in front of His feet,
Bow your heads and just say, “forgive me Lord, and Thank Thee!’’

My happiest day!!

Written by Colin Immelman

Three happy years today, married to you my beautiful bride,
Generally speaking it was an easy ride.
Life’s a pure bliss with you by my side.
With this poem I thank thee my lovely bride,
For being with me during this time.

I know at times I can be a royal pain,
And even though I know there is nothing to gain,
By being angry, grumpy or have a short temper,
I still had to be reminded from time to time in order to remember.

Every day I thank the Lord for you in my life,
As you brought with you only love, peace and a life free of strife.
Like yesterday I remember our wedding day,
You walking down the isle, how lovely you looked on your way.

Today we are blessed with a family close to Him,
And it is my prayer that it will remain so forever, until we meet,
In the hereafter, if it is in His plan for us to be,
But for that we’ll have to wait and see.

In the mean time, I love you with all my heart,
And hope to see your lovely smile until death do us part.
I love you and only you my sweetheart!

So sweet!

Tears in a Bottle
You gave me strength to carry on,
When my body was so torn.
And lifted me on wings of love,
When my spirit was so worn.

Through all the times when in despair,
When I hung my head in shame.
You came to me when I knelt down,
As I called upon Your name.

And when my heart was troubled,
With more heartache than I could bear.
You caught each and every tear I shed,
In a bottle You have up there.

And when I get to heaven,
I'll kneel before Your feet.
You'll wipe away all my tears,
For my soul is Yours to keep.
Whatever your problems are, take them to the all Mighty
He will comfort you and help you through them .

Unknown Author.

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

How do they justify it?


Since our ancestors set foot on Southern African soil,
They immediately started to sweat and toil.
Building, improving, farming, inventing and exploring.
All of this in spite of the droughts, the floods, the killing and the maiming.
They brought with them cuttings and slips to plant, seeds, in fertile soil to sow,
Knowledge to built wagons, schools, houses, factories and road.
With blood and sweat they paid for a land so fair,
Which they thought they’d better for their heir.
Now you look around you, you’ll see skyscrapers, airports, and highways,
Airplanes, television sets, cell phones, computers an’ rails.
Don’t you see, we have improved a barren, undeveloped piece of land,
Where there was no wheel, infra structure, technical invention or plan,
Developed it to a country that can provide for itself, proud and stout,
Only, now there seems to be a meaningless bout.
Train coaches are burned out of anger, or is it of pure vandalism, a token?
Busses are stoned and school windows are broken,
Tyres are burned in streets to vent their mood,
By those who, I am sure, don’t pay tax, but live and enjoy to loot.
Keep in mind my vandalizing, destroying, abusive friend,
In the end, those of us who work for an income, pay for your selfish trend.
What I don’t understand,
Is, what do you get out of it in the end?
Violence and vandalism has never solved a problem,
Only brings about poverty and mayhem.
So take it from me, eventually your children will draw the short end of the stick too,
When there is nothing to feed them, the farmers who now supplies the food,
At last, all dead and buried, the country barren and dry once more, no wheels that turn,
No busses to stone, no windows to break and no train coaches to burn.
Then I am sure you’d realize, but too late,
How selfish and wrong you’d been, hell, what a sorry state!



Fears? We have them all, I am certain.
You, me, surely we all are scared of somethin’!

Me, now ain’t it funny, I am scared of flying,
However, I don’t fear dying.
I am really scared of a height,
And brother, don’t you dare put me in a spot too tight!
I like space around me – all open and wide,
No walls too close to my side.

Some fear snakes, spiders or lizards.
Others again, rats, frogs or blizzards.

But my biggest fear by far,
As I am sure you would agree if you’re a worthy pa or ma…….
Nothing could be worse, just imagine,
To stand at an open grave, burying one of my children.
That must be the worst punishment, short of hell,
A tear comes to my eye, can’t you tell?
Therefore, I would pray with a sigh,
“Dear Lord in Heaven High!
Please take me first….however…. (another sigh)
Thy will be done!
Forever Thy servant, the humble one.”


Gun free South Africa

Gun Free South Africa?
Written by Colin Immelman
Gun free South Africa? Proudly South African?
Both a pain in the behind…
What do you think’s for you and I in line?
Take a look up to the Norther?
Isn’t that ample lesson to us south of the border?
Those people, unarmed and vulnerable, lost all their possession,
Unable to defend themselves against a dictator, even if not by self confession.
But we know better,
It says so in every news item and letter.
Taking away property from lawful owner and farmer,
Causing pain, sorrow, poverty and hunger!
Will we ever be rid in our country, of all the illegal guns?
No way old chums.
We’re in for anything but peace,
Into the country they are brought without cease.
Pistols, revolvers and assault rifles, with ammunition enough,
To kill those who fall for their bluff.
Guns get stolen from those who are careless,
And then is used against those who are clueless.
So how will you defend yourself?
Or your kids and your spouse?
I know what you think, “Yes, but guns kill people!”
So? Are you going to stop and park your vehicle?
For more people get killed in road accidents, did you know?
By reckless people that drive like they have something to show.
Or by those who blatantly disregard the traffic laws,
By driving vehicles with major flaws.
Too late I am sure to reconsider,
But you give it a careful thought there Mister!

Saturday, June 28, 2008

God's Colour


Written by Colin Immelman
Does God’s skin have a colour, perse?
What does the Good Book on this subject say?
God is good and He is always the same,
God is, was and will always Be,
But He is not for us to see,
Even though He is Three,
God, Son and Holy Spirit, and will always Be!
Man was made to His image,
But that is only how we see it.
Nowhere does the Bible specify or point out,
As to His skin colour, so let’s not get into a bout.
However, when Jesus Christ walked about men,
Once on the hill, shiny white was His appearance then,
Take a peek at Matthews seventeen.
However, no picture or image of Him should be,
Made or drawn anywhere for us to see,
Or bow down to on our knee.
Exodus twenty is proof for us to read!
God does not have a skin, or colour, in my opinion,
But He is Pure! And Holy! That is the Holy Union.
What we do know,
‘Cause the Good Book tells us so,
Is that one day He will come again, on a cloud, pure and white,
Oh, how what a delight!
So my friend, to a white God, or how an’ where you pray,
Doesn’t matter to me, God will have the final say!
The question to ask is, are we ready?
To be judged on our deeds, oh so unsteady.

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Friday, June 27, 2008

A few poems

Written by Colin Immelman.
Proudly South African?
You must be jokin’!
You tell me, how can anyone be proud of savages, who kill babies,
Who rape and maim innocent ladies?

A government that hides the true,
Keeping accurate facts from me and you.
Old or young, female or male,
Crime hits us all with a gale.

Power cuts, fuel shortages, strikes, unemployment and high inflation?
How can you be proud of such a nation?
You tell me……
Are you as proud as can be?

Arsons, killings, robberies and hi – jacking,
Don’t you for one moment think that discipline is seriously lacking?
Teachers fear for their lives, kids rule the schools with knives,
Some with sticks and stones, other with bad attitudes and firearms,
What do you suppose is the reason for their qualms?

Kids are not to be disciplined by their parents, for they’d be liable,
The parents that is, so what happened to the laws of the Bible?
The Good Book teaches us the “Ten Commandments”,
But we are forced to give heed to a corrupt government’s,
Rules, regulations and laws,
But it is plain to see there are major flaws.

Farmers who supply old and young with meat and grain,
They are, without reason I might add, shot and slain.
The standard of many a service has dropped,
Mainly to accommodate the slob!

Now you tell me my proud friend,
Can you be proud of this trend?
Of course, it is your constitutional right to be,
But rather leave me out of that melee,
As I have the brains and logic to see,
That the future of this country, in its feeble arms, holds disaster and a trying time,
What with no electricity, shortage of fuel, brewing anarchy and ample crime!
You keep on being proudly South African my trusting friend,
For your only chance of survival, will be to keep up with this trend!

A few poems

Please be my Valentine?

With this poem I thee ask: please be my Valentine……?
Wow! That would be a blast!
Days, months, almost a year already, I have been eyeing you, my Fairy.
So beautiful, so dainty and how sexy you are!
And you innocently unaware, that of you I secretly steal a glance from afar.
I love watching you, oh so fair, I love the way you pull your fingers through your golden hair,
Now if only you’d agree to be my Valentine,
My dull existence, you’d make, oh so sublime!
Shy I am, so terribly shy,
Therefore this short poem I thee wri…...
With a heart so full of love to give, all I ask of you… believe,
That I will make you, my dear fairy, even without a wand,
The happiest fairy in all of wonderland!
So with this poem I thee ask,
Please, be my Valentine, please, just say…..ja!

Colin Immelman

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