tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43975329910505351412012-02-09T06:27:04.511+08:00Words and ImagesTo see things and to read words is human<br>
But to feel and truly understand it all, is divine.<br>
- CLINTON WITTSTOCKClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.comBlogger1031100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-77275069264924301652011-11-01T09:26:00.000+08:002011-11-01T09:26:17.760+08:00By God's grace
Like a dog chasing its short tail, the east the west.
I’m a fragrant bud, sin a bare twig.Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-90144063790950551432011-10-31T11:10:00.003+08:002011-10-31T11:12:01.018+08:00A plant in His hands
You have washed my world
with the most violent winter.
I'm a plant of spring
Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-24628632821441843632011-10-18T09:39:00.000+08:002011-10-18T09:47:18.321+08:00ReductionClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-80668653760957598752011-09-02T14:54:00.000+08:002011-09-02T14:54:23.100+08:00Review of Sweetwater Restaurant in Johor Bahru
REVIEW
Fillet of fresh sea bass on a bed of roasted sauteed vegetables with a balsamic reduction.
The
problem with eating at a restaurant that has an interesting menu is
deciding what to have. Thankfully my wife and I were rescued by the
hostess, who calmly recommended a couple of starters, mains and
desserts. Her recommendations sounded delicious so we Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-51541438570963199452010-11-20T18:59:00.000+08:002011-10-18T11:24:15.306+08:00Leonie E Brown Re-invented
Shortly after winning the prestigious Absa Atelier Award, Leonie E Brown disappeared from the art world. Now, after many years, she returns with a trademark touch of magic.
I won the National Volkskas Atelier Award for Fine Art in 1985. My university didn’t want me to enter, but John Botha, my Art History lecturer and Natascha Pretorius, a friend, believed in me when no one Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-22495037401435161352010-11-20T18:47:00.000+08:002011-10-18T12:41:49.104+08:00Know your honey, Honey
Their sting can kill or their spit heal; but while it’s uncommon for bees to destroy life, their possible extinction poses a far more potent poison to mankind.
And speaking of toxins, would it surprise you to know that many honey products could be just that?
I drove up into the mountains of Malaysia with Bruce Cheong, owner of the only Malaysian mobile bee farm, to see the Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-48492639494991756992010-10-18T18:47:00.000+08:002010-10-18T18:48:30.479+08:00Timor Leste'
Timor Leste' has got to be one of the most beautiful countries in the world.
Check out Cindy's photos
http://www.flickr.com/photos/cindy_gayle_wittstock/sets/72157625063052791/
and mine to see what I mean.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/wittstockmedia/sets/72157624965497817/ Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-15446491410776284102010-07-16T11:07:00.000+08:002010-07-16T11:09:12.840+08:00PlaygroundThe earth is not hung by thread, nor stars by rope or yet the sun by chains they are not swung around by angels like a little girl by her daddy turning on his heels, they're hung by the word of The Spirit, set in motion by the breath of The Son and held together by the love of The Father, who created the universe as a playground for His children. Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-24036989600894872612010-07-13T10:30:00.000+08:002010-07-13T10:31:09.566+08:00Creator JesusThe grass is green, fields alive, mountains stand and trees weep with morning dew because of Your great goodness to mankindClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-8353130108335417692009-12-19T19:16:00.000+08:002009-12-19T19:33:44.361+08:00PETRONAS TWIN TOWERS
The second tallest building in the world,
the Petronas Towers in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-8956782073866177702009-12-02T15:51:00.000+08:002009-12-11T15:14:39.105+08:00A DIFFERENT TIMEA DIFFERENT TIME
The eight-thirty train from Boksburg to Johannesburg was unusually empty. If I had paused to think about that, I would never have boarded. But I hadn't! The only passenger in the carriage, I lounged in the blue vinyl seats, my knees propped up against the back board of the one in front of me, my backpack sprawled across the rest of the three seater.
The dreary industrial Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-678164244285588912009-11-13T10:36:00.000+08:002009-11-13T16:09:11.747+08:006 MONTHS IN ASIA
The past few weeks have been incredibly busy, exciting and, at times, stressful. We came over to Asia to be part of the Church of Joy in Singapore; but things haven't worked out that way.
Our involvement there always depended on whether or not I would find work that would entitle me to a visa. So, for the past few months I daily scoured advertisements for jobs on-line. I must have applied for Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-23654125769083874492009-11-10T14:25:00.000+08:002009-12-05T14:35:13.450+08:00SEEDS
A little seed covered with earth
watered, becomes, over time,
the world's lung, heaven's perfume,
shade to man, beauty to the eye
and a home to many.
Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-29536791023488513842009-10-09T16:52:00.000+08:002009-10-09T16:56:19.824+08:00MILK AND HONEY
Great men make great conquests
of lesser lands, for in everything
they see that which could be..Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-21130891250516622672009-09-14T13:16:00.000+08:002009-09-16T17:50:49.706+08:00 [Learning to fly: Young bees practice flying.]
Cindy and I drove into the heart of Malaysia, where we thought we would be squeezing through musty jungles; instead, what we witnessed was the mass devastation of what once must've been a beautiful land.
Its a rugged land, none the less, way up in the sky; and we had to use 4x4's to get there. We were there to save bees that had fallen victim to Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-88622011391371361702009-09-04T15:44:00.000+08:002009-09-17T16:54:53.489+08:00A BEE'S SPITTOONBelow: A Bee's spittoon!Below: Digging in!
Left: Bee in the box!
Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-64752738078179865622009-09-02T16:49:00.000+08:002009-09-02T17:18:10.475+08:00978-0-620-44933-5 Sexy SalsaIf you're wondering what the title is all about, let me put you out of your misery. It's an International Standard Book Number(ISBN); but not just any ISBN, it's the very first one ever allocated to me. Cause for celebration I should think.I had thought that, as with most other bureaucratic processes, it would take great effort over a prolonged period to come by one of these little numbers, but Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-33175241018254357302009-08-27T12:54:00.000+08:002009-08-27T12:58:41.487+08:00Flower Girl
We live in a world both
ordered and chaotic.
We live in a world full
of surprises!
Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-6582411718835812802009-08-24T16:39:00.000+08:002009-08-24T16:57:49.220+08:00TWO WEEKS TO GO
Two weeks, that's how long I think it will take to bring "Sexy Salsa," the book of salsa recipe's I'm working on, to a close. My sister Debby has been hard at work doing the design and layout, and it looks excellent.
All that remains now is the final-final copy edit and a last photo shoot. I feel that I need just 3 more photos to finish the book of well.
But until then , here's a sneak Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-22301622069391854222009-08-20T12:02:00.000+08:002009-08-20T14:50:12.836+08:00Light the way
This photo, of two groups of school children with their teachers standing beneath a massive tree, was taken in the Singapore National Gardens earlier this year. I'm doing volunteer teaching work at a school in Johor Bahru, Malaysia, and it has given rise to much thought about being a teacher. And as I'm still trying to process this new experience for myself, I'll stop this post here with an Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-22337660357574665982009-08-11T10:46:00.000+08:002009-08-11T14:10:43.756+08:00Fusion City
We got on a bus, leaving Johor Bahru behind and headed for Malacca, the traditional birthplace of Malaysia. There both exquisite and strange sights and sounds awaited us.
Johor Bahru is on the southern tip of mainland Malaysia and Malacca a quarter of the way up the western coastline. Bus fares are cheap, the coaches are modern and comfortable and the roads good, making traveling by bus ideal. Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-39131390031227026012009-07-23T16:40:00.000+08:002009-07-23T16:49:09.590+08:00COME RUN IN THIS GARDEN
Though I be on the moon
and you lost in the sun
yet still you're with me.
Your feet, like snowflakes,
are always falling
in my gardens.
Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-17163714892840030832009-07-23T16:27:00.000+08:002009-07-23T16:28:33.036+08:00DOORWAYS
Actions are the doorways to emotions,
they make way for a response.Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-78549362091134543442009-07-22T13:44:00.000+08:002009-07-22T13:44:39.873+08:00am6gbntu2ham6gbntu2hClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-89322629809038130572009-07-21T14:18:00.000+08:002009-07-21T14:23:57.591+08:00Wellsprings of life
The world says a man's lack of self-scrutiny
is the root of his spiritual lack;
but how can this be when God Himself
is the source of all spiritual life?Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-84633845769779108102009-07-09T16:40:00.000+08:002009-07-12T16:20:55.148+08:00MIRACLES
It's nothing short of a miracle! That is what it is. I found myself in a situation where I was
thinking, "Now what!?" And I had no answers except nothing is impossible for Jesus,
nothing.
"I overheard them say it's your motherboard," Mrs Lee had said over the telephone, in a
thick Singaporean accent.
I remember my heart stopping at that moment. I had expected a faulty keyboard to be the
worst Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-21176339893381958542009-07-07T16:18:00.000+08:002009-07-07T16:19:43.570+08:00Weak warriorThe heart of your greatest fearmight just be the cradleof your greatest victoryClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-42238481799244044632009-06-29T10:32:00.000+08:002009-06-29T12:14:31.548+08:00Ode to the Apple of my eye
Of all the times to die, this wasn't it! I opened her lid and woke her. Light slowly fell across her face but before she was fully roused a shadow dropped.
"Let me sleep a little while longer, then wake me again," she whispered.
I caressed her face, my little snowflake, and she closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep.
The morning dragged on, the sun standing ever taller till the weight of Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-16877752445130755462009-06-18T11:39:00.000+08:002009-06-18T11:54:10.433+08:00Man and fishl
l
l
Seasons pass for man
because of the death of fish.
Like Jesus hanging.
l
l
l
l
l
l
Photo by Cindy Wittstock
Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-70470239541015553432009-06-18T11:19:00.000+08:002009-06-18T11:25:11.993+08:00Perspective
Life is the same,
for old man and young alike.
Yet how different!
Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-59108772843164288762009-06-16T14:24:00.000+08:002009-06-16T14:33:22.364+08:00The lion and the lamb
Gentle and great
You came on the tip
of a twinkling star
to became an ever nearing
consuming sunClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-46749641812045198772009-06-03T09:38:00.000+08:002009-06-03T09:41:15.411+08:00Bitter-sweet!Intent on the Apple in front of me, I didn't see the thief until it was too late. His hand wrapping around my phone was the first thing I noticed. By the time I looked up it was almost too late. He ripped it out of its socket, turned and ran."Hey!" I shouted. He was already out the door. I stood up and gave chase. Out the door, off the pavement and down the side road. I was wearing slops so I wasClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-70718900653061965652009-05-22T12:02:00.000+08:002009-05-22T13:55:00.034+08:00American Idols
It was late and we had just got home, flopped down on the sofa and turned the little telly on. An advert announced the live screening of the final of The American Idols - at 8AM the same morning. But, we had watched a few programmes in Durban and got interested, so decided to wake up for the spectacle.
For two hours we were glued to our seats. The show was a veritable who's who in the music Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-60766647573220139202009-05-19T18:47:00.000+08:002009-05-20T00:08:05.584+08:00Moving on
Regrettably, we leave Singapore tomorrow! After just three weeks and some odd days. Onto Johor Bahru in Malaysia, literally just across the road.
We've been staying on the East Coast of Singapore(West of Bedok on the map) in government apartments, first with friends on the second floor and now in a friends flat right on the top of that same building - 25 floors up into the sky. And other than Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-67562200633933308132009-05-14T11:46:00.000+08:002009-05-14T11:58:19.125+08:00Divinity
To see things and read words, is human
but to feel and truly understand it all, is divine
Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-71149766931583696192009-05-12T14:21:00.000+08:002009-05-12T14:23:50.369+08:00The Holy Spirit
In the dead of night
in the stillness of my soul
Rivers run their courseClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-91902580936241434982009-05-06T10:55:00.000+08:002009-05-06T20:33:47.984+08:00Eden
"The heavens pour forth their speech and declare Your glory!" That was the thought I had running round the mill of my mind as Cindy and I walked around the National Botanical Garden of Singapore. It was another infernally hot day, but our efforts were well rewarded with a wealth of beauty. Like with these orchids!
And these.
Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-58849565734042428292009-05-04T10:50:00.000+08:002009-05-04T11:14:43.569+08:00Singapore at sunset by Cindy WittstockClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-16844595691221349292009-04-29T09:35:00.005+08:002009-05-04T11:22:29.186+08:00Singapore
Little lights twinkled orange, yellow, white, blue and red as far as I could see, getting bigger the more we fell. At first I thought they were the city lights on the waters edge but Cindy pointed out to me that they were the lights of ships. I was stunned! I started to count. When I reached 40 I stopped. I think the most ships I have ever seen out at sea at once was 24. I realized why they say Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-90335334980535158772009-04-28T17:43:00.003+08:002009-04-28T18:11:23.146+08:00Summer salsa
Skin a fresh mango and peel a buttery-soft sweet melon. Resist the temptation to eat the fruit and cut into blocks a cm big. Split a lime in half and squeeze them till the last drop has fallen over the expecting flesh. Chop 3 table spoons of pine forest green coriander up and add to spice. Two teaspoons of white wine vinegar, a pinch of salt and a pinch of pepper all sweetened by a teaspoon of Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-68825896649613500222009-04-09T02:14:00.005+08:002009-04-09T15:22:45.943+08:00Slumdog Millionaire
"Hulle skiet an advert!" I heard one of the
little guys who had just walked past say. I
was intent on getting the shutter speed and
aperture settings just right. If I had had the
time, I might've turned around and
explained that it wasn't for advertising's
sake that I was photographing Andrew but
rather for the inclusion in his salsa recipe
book.
The scene reminded me of Slumdog
Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-65025537296321634912009-03-10T16:48:00.003+08:002009-03-10T16:59:51.521+08:00Believe
Flowers, of diverse colours
spring up around the dusty fall
of each step, perfumes the air
anointing me and passerb y's
this is the reward of those who seek God
and believe that He is and wants to bless
what a mighty God, who can resist Him?
He makes a way in the desert
edged by flowers, pools of crystal waters
rivers of life, green grass and glades of shade
without ending, that can never be Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-29285386564302986142009-03-04T22:32:00.002+08:002009-03-04T22:34:31.127+08:00NUTSClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-74692999398821420842009-03-04T21:25:00.004+08:002009-03-04T22:37:36.308+08:00Moving onIt has been a while since I last posted an entry, I've been busy painting a house. That's not to say that things haven't been moving forward with regards to the Salsa recipe book because they have.
In the last post I spoke about having done two photo shoots of Andrew creating scintillating salsa's, of the two rolls of film I had developed and the hope I had that the third roll would round the Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-50667313549355657492009-02-23T20:33:00.003+08:002009-02-23T21:46:31.223+08:00Red hot
Colourful is a word that will, from now on, always be synonymous with salsa for me. So too tasty, quick and easy, spicy, hot, fresh, fruity, versatile and Andrew Mendes, if he wasn't already.Andrew is an exceptional chef; I've witnessed his mastery on a weekly basis for the last few months, so I knew that his salsa recipes would be great. Little did I know that they would be magnificent. It Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-54980298601395778912009-02-18T19:52:00.003+08:002009-02-18T20:41:14.591+08:00Beautiful in its time!
Everything is made beautiful in its time. I love this line of words. The hope held in them has often lifted my spirits and sounded a clear prophetic call to my soul. And now again I find this line woven into the fabric of my everyday life, giving me hope for a better future.Not that I'm kneeling at some rotten nadir in my life. Quite the contrary, life is filled with expectation. But regarding Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-46723681534322165762009-02-18T19:33:00.004+08:002009-02-18T19:40:50.243+08:00New lands
A man should travel
its in his soul to find newlands to make his homeClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-21623647111105295182009-02-12T21:31:00.005+08:002009-02-13T19:53:17.040+08:00Shooting blanks.Shoot! Shoot a chef, at work in his flat on his balcony! That's what I was meant to be doing today, as part of our grandiose plan to put together a book of hot and not so hot salsa recipes. But those plans began to unravel yesterday when a small minority of taxi drivers took to the streets armed with guns and real live bullets, not blanks, and bricks, stones, fire and whatever else they could Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-12903901684486459702009-02-12T21:11:00.008+08:002009-02-12T21:29:53.911+08:00Wellsprings
Blow Holy Spirit
blow, through demoralized lives
wellsprings of joy rise!
Photo taken and edited by Cindy Wittstock
Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-55715493312668502202009-02-10T21:39:00.004+08:002009-02-11T15:14:22.877+08:00Gunning for the shoot!I'm gunning for the shoot on Thursday, there's so much to do but not enough time in the day to get it all done. But none the less, progress is being made. Andrew has drawn up a chart with all the different types of chilies, tomatoes and onions. And working through Andrew's recipes I can see why that could be very helpful. There are so many different chilies alone. But wow, don't those salsa's Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-19784011998705570952009-02-09T21:33:00.005+08:002009-02-11T15:18:53.379+08:00Sexy salsaOne of the things I love about being a freelance writer and photographer is the variety the work affords one. You never quite know what you will be doing from one day to the next. With that said, I'm sure you're now thinking,"I wonder what he is up to?"I won't hold you in suspense any longer then: I'm embarking on my first book publishing experience. And not a book of poetry nor a novel, nor evenClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-8912182027004817272009-02-06T18:05:00.003+08:002009-02-06T18:19:58.534+08:00Earth
Earth lies like a still lover 'neath approaching mate cracking in the heat Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-59790099571031353432009-02-04T18:23:00.003+08:002009-02-04T18:31:32.443+08:00Green window, white wall
I've just updated my Photography portfolioon my web site. Please click on this linkto go there:
http://www.clintonwittstock.co.zaClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-2163932233279342682009-02-02T17:33:00.001+08:002009-02-02T17:36:56.010+08:00Cutting night
Waiting for the sunto fall into a new dayopen eye, cut nightClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-13429768230591999072009-01-27T18:30:00.005+08:002009-01-29T21:09:16.496+08:00KnysnaThe lighthouse, at Knysna Heads in South Africa, towers over a few fisherman. Knysnas' landscape is dominated by sea and fresh water, mountains and dense forests and is well worth a visit, especially if you are an oyster lover.
Cindy and I spent a few days in a wooden tree-top lodge on the outskirts of Knysna and loved it. We had driven into town to have dinner(including oysters of course) at Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-52958347740095732222009-01-26T16:16:00.001+08:002009-01-26T16:22:49.464+08:00Prophets
We all are prophets;the words we speak,the actions of our lives,determine our tomorrowsClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-5447835609397634562009-01-22T18:42:00.003+08:002009-01-22T18:51:27.133+08:00Faithful Jesus
I've grown so accustomed to bleeding bloodthrough my skin, for much less than what I needit's now almost unimaginableto think of my needs being suppliedlet alone above and beyond what couldbe dreamt or imagined, as You've promisedyet You are faithful, so I stir myselfto hope, beyond hope I force myself to hopebecause with You, hope never failsClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-15052928944768502452009-01-14T16:26:00.004+08:002009-01-15T17:44:28.619+08:00Untimely death
Pink salmon breaks throughthe thinning ice roof and diessquirming in the sunClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-47647373015817231232009-01-14T16:12:00.002+08:002009-01-14T16:24:57.360+08:00Dish up love
I've sat at a table of love eatingstale bread and my soul was satisfiedthen I've been dished an exquisite mealby people disgruntled with me and feltlike vomiting! So give me loveand a loaf of stale bread Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-26621008147892229642009-01-14T16:07:00.003+08:002009-01-14T16:12:00.795+08:00Love triumphs
Where there is hate, there is deathwhere there is love, there is lifeand when hate confronts loveultimately, love triumphs
Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-17765656754551995142008-12-16T16:37:00.005+08:002008-12-17T17:04:47.403+08:00Black and whiteOn this, the 16th of December, South Africa's day of reconcilliation, it might be apt to ponder the beauty of black and white, side by side. Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-52306385380140704192008-12-09T18:13:00.004+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.716+08:00My God
There's nothing impossible for You God
You make a way where there seems to be none
Your Spirit cuts through mountains like torrents
of water, like a burning knife through polystyrene
and all around the land bursts into song
springs into colour, every living thing
is satisfied with the riches of Your love
even those who hate You, refusing
to believe in You, eat at Your table
so great is Your Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-84933764643153935072008-11-27T17:55:00.003+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.716+08:00A luminous life
Beyond neighbourhoods, places of work,beyond even the extremitiesof the most lucid imagination,there, on the periphery of existence,lays life large and luminous, waitingto be engaged, one step at a timeClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-47894605996141156362008-11-26T18:01:00.001+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.717+08:00LiberationClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-39598247423196872312008-11-25T19:41:00.002+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.717+08:00Sun and rain
The sun alone scorchesrain alone floodsbut a little bit of sunand a lick of rainbring lifeClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-73866779656304119412008-11-24T19:59:00.005+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.717+08:00Abandoned love
Those who mete their love out like the sharing of crumbs from a loaf of breadstand to suffer more from the lack of love than those who love with an abandonClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-29770072603131027872008-10-23T15:54:00.003+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.717+08:00The games God plays
A stippled line of birds concertinas across the sky, an enormous person, dressed in fluffy clothes, reclines against Table Mountain then becomes a ducksomeone's thrown a horde of zinc plates onto the ocean's face, the glare's unbearablea massive black head pops through the skintakes a nibble of the air, the sun lolls ever closer to Robyn Island as if we don't know it never sleepsthe black head Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-86234401567713500642008-05-19T17:24:00.005+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.718+08:00FragrancedYou sneak into my life like a morningray of light, surround me with wanting arms
long strands of hair fall around your pale moonsoft, shimmering with stars, I love it blackyour breath, cooled by melon and strawberries,rushes over my cheek then down my neckI loose myself in youA lily alone, planted on the banksof a dry river bed, you brought new waters into my life, I swim in the pools of your Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-19379092706175541072008-05-19T16:57:00.007+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.718+08:00Destiny
God stretched the black and silver canvassover my head, the cicadas wokefrom their dreary sleep and moaned at the moon
a stream purled past me, a million pine needles
shivered, I warmed the palms of my hands
around the crackling fire
You came down from heaven, I saw you step
from the dark of night into the fire light
"Exquisite angel, behind which clouds have you been hiding?"
Smiling, you Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-29765425547967877292007-09-07T12:56:00.001+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.718+08:00The walk
http://www.blogger.com/img/gl.photo.gifClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-45007163009355518922007-09-07T12:51:00.005+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.719+08:00Haiku: Halcyon night
I daily recallthe halcyon night we first kissedyour lips seared my soulClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-89578512347053306192007-09-07T12:44:00.007+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.719+08:0028 Winters
Life bears down mercilesslymy spirit's crushed like a rock in God's handmy dust scattered in the wild windTorment's my shadow, I've stopped dreaming it's no better place to be, nothing worksair is all I seem to ever birthWho'll show me a peppercorn of solicitude?there's no one left on the battlefield but meWho now is more inimical to myselfthan myself? 28 winters in a rowseems like hell has Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-6110491291198940782007-08-22T16:49:00.001+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.719+08:00ColourClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-80485720195463229202007-08-22T16:39:00.002+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.720+08:00Haiku: Over stars
I leap over spring starsto be with the one I loveshe rises to meClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-10857652811167369312007-08-22T16:29:00.003+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.720+08:00The fishermanHe stands on snaking sands resembling
morphing wisps of smoke, hung in the hue's above
casts his eye eastwards, watches Sun peck
Horizon, then quickly sail away
hot with shame
Clambering onto a hard rack of rock
the day bed for his naked feet. Stars,
mussels, blades and spines cut into
the pillows of his little feet, lulling
them to sleep. Blood gushes forth and billows
into the heaving, Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-81799826586835053592007-08-21T08:44:00.003+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.720+08:00Wishing
Across the spitting seas where cold waters
meet shivering land, a blanket of light
wraps everything in it's grey wool: buildings
mountain, the sky. Claustrophobic clouds
low in the grey sky! Everything but
a hands-breadth patch of city basking
in warm light.
Somewhere in the grey, in one of the grey
buildings you're sitting under the orange
glow of a hanging bulb, doing whatever,
unaware that Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-33211805281563713262007-08-16T12:40:00.001+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.720+08:00Photography PortfolioClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-54986649732680003222007-08-16T12:35:00.002+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.721+08:00Dust
I am a flea on the face of the eartha million times less than a flea in your sightyet You see me completelyHow do You see so small a thing from so far away?Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-40425845640215057452007-08-16T12:34:00.002+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.721+08:00Haiku: Severed
Room brim filled with thingsbrick hard and intangiblemy soul pants for you
Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-69821264609403166232007-08-16T12:31:00.003+08:002009-01-14T16:42:07.168+08:00Distant
My clothes hang on the line like dead soldiers,hung over a rampart starched stiffby death, their arm's longingfor the watery grave below.Because you are goneeverything I have is dead.Perhaps one day, you wont be as far awayas the star I saw you laughing under.
Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-34849145075135164792007-08-16T12:24:00.001+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.721+08:00Photography PortfolioClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-6236193143691277402007-08-16T12:21:00.002+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.722+08:00Bekah
I'm trying to sleep my time awaydon't want to face the dayknowing you're not going to be herebut sleep is a far off dream.A million little balls of leadeat their way through my stomachon their way to my heavy heartwhen they arrive, my heart will fallinto the abyss of emptiness.My bed has lost all it's warmthI'm like a corpse in a cold coffinwaiting for the dreaded drop into darkness.I wish I Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-2736998016172744642007-08-16T12:19:00.000+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.722+08:00TearsYou were crying as I said goodbye
Cold drops of water streaming down a windshieldClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-43607828490468850432007-08-16T12:17:00.002+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.722+08:00Haiku: Torn
The love of my lifevanishes into the snowmy little heart stops
Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-34675476875681035532007-08-16T12:15:00.002+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.723+08:00Ching chong cha
Ching chong chayou're the rock that's ground me as thin as paperyou're the blade that's cut me into a hundred shredsyou're the one that's scattered me to the four corners of the earth
Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-49714900385111726932007-08-16T10:50:00.001+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.723+08:00Photography PortfolioClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-10973610691379317362007-08-16T10:48:00.002+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.723+08:00Come!
Come and kneel down, here in the quiet placeof you and God, and open your heartand be filled with the cool watersthat swirl around His feet, that your soulmight be satisfied with the kissesof His love
Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-32659191777622284442007-08-16T10:45:00.003+08:002009-01-14T18:53:45.450+08:00Moon
I am like the moon, alone, shiningin the dark, courting lonelinessstealing light from the sun, to shine for youand anyone else who would care to see
Just like the moon, my journey fixed in heavenI blindly sail through treacherous seasof dead rocks, burning stars and the unknown.We come to you, almost close enoughto touch you, but then scurry behind cloudsof secrecy or another nightlest you see Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-84014525579486959862007-08-16T10:25:00.001+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.724+08:00Photography PortfolioClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-5745788816973082422007-08-16T10:24:00.002+08:002009-01-14T16:47:21.073+08:00Haiku: Lighthouse
The arc of white lightspewn from your revolving facefalls on dark watersClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-45508411605188173232007-08-16T10:21:00.002+08:002009-01-14T16:57:20.228+08:00On my knees
The massive mountain, the rooted tree shaking her cymbals, clicking castanetsthe vines, row after row after rowgardens of white roses, acorns, lavender,green grass, blue sky, crisp air, cozy sunlightmakes me want to fall down and worship You
Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-91549490132771132932007-08-16T10:16:00.002+08:002009-01-14T17:01:28.052+08:00The one
The sky has dressed for night. Her elegant black dress shimmers with a trillion crystals. I long for their light to lace me. White, almost translucent curtains hang from cold steel rods. They dance towards then spin away from the circling ceiling fan. A curvaceous red lamp solicits the earthy wall. The heat of her womb entices him. Another lamp, of black and blue plastic, separated and gouged Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-68921396514941636822007-08-16T10:00:00.001+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.725+08:00Photography PortfolioClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-13513223904311644022007-08-16T09:54:00.002+08:002009-01-14T18:09:44.417+08:00Lizard boy
Sitting at a coffee shoppe, working. There's a little boy here, speaking to a lizard he has on his arm. He doesn't seem to notice me.“They paid the bill,” he tells the lizard, his eyes bouncing from lizard to bill. He gets up, lizard glued to forearm, bill on the table and disappears through the door.
I smile, “Cute!” I think, another thought quickly follows, “ If he were an adult I would have Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-85844075577434689832007-08-16T09:34:00.002+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.725+08:00Haiku: Poppy's
A field of poppy'stangerine orange and pinksuddenly alive
Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-18432696371429107052007-08-16T09:27:00.002+08:002009-01-14T18:22:57.448+08:00Standing alone
I'm a changed man, a stranger in a strangeland, alone, on the ruins of my lifea singled soldier in a raging warno drugs to accompany me, no boozeto mix with the tears that stain my sheetsno little darling to curl the hairon my chest, just stark lucidnessspooning out my pain
Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-48968484915909544852007-08-16T09:10:00.001+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.726+08:00Photography PortfolioClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-37038175156015206292007-08-16T09:01:00.004+08:002009-01-14T17:29:18.888+08:00Miss Du Pont
Hey Miss Du Pont, wanna take a walkalong the board walk that caressesthe sea, from Green Point past the white and redlighthouse to the edge of the Waterfront?I'm not much of a talker but listenwell and would love to see words slip from your lips, your tongue smudge fresh red lipstick.Miss Du Pont, let's walk beneath ceruleanskies, our arms joined by warm hands, swinginglike lovers do. Let's Clinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-16452918288267265312007-08-14T08:41:00.004+08:002009-01-14T19:13:40.016+08:00Cappuccino kiss
The room is stockinged in low red lighta black lady leans across the yellowMahogany bar, pushes her lips outin a sultry kiss me pout, the dim lightfalling all around, ravishes her cheeksexacerbating her angular features.A white man leans forward, ever so slightlycloser, his identity lost in his back of anonymity, the thumping drumsof kwaito fill the room, a highlightsoftens her lips, a smile herClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4397532991050535141.post-43216271094774458432007-08-13T10:02:00.001+08:002008-12-16T17:12:23.727+08:00Photography PortfolioClinton Wittstockhttps://profiles.google.com/113211375357498810758noreply@blogger.com0