November Course

Dear Candidates

For those candidates who will be joining our November course;
please confirm (by phone or email) your bookings,pay your deposits -if you haven’t already done so – and confirm whether you’ll be needing accommodation.

For those joining our December course; please confirm the above no later than mid-November.

Thank you for your time, patience and interest

Yours sincerely,Wayne Duplessis

duplessis.wayne @gmail com
duplez @yahoo com
Please eliminate the spaces.
Note my primitive attempt to de-spam,un-spam, perform a spam-ectomy.

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Wise to the word … September 20,2008

The boy who stole my heart.

He wore an orange hat
The boy who stole my heart.
I never had the opportunity to learn his name.
Perhaps it’s just as well.
How could he ever
Have lived up to the fantasies
Of my day dreams?
No. This way he will always be
The boy who stole my heart.

He’ll never call me baby
The boy who stole my heart.
We have no past
No present
No future
Except in the fantasies
Of my day dreams
Where he will always be
The boy who stole my heart.

He’s blown me a thousand kisses
The boy who stole my heart.
And on countless nights I have inhaled
His sweet aroma,
As he slept beside me
In the privacy of the fantasies
Of my day dreams
Where he will always be
The boy who stole my heart.

Well, he never was mine
The boy who stole my heart.
I fell crashing down to Earth
When I learnt he loved another.
Now I only strive
To keep alive the fantasies
Of my day dreams
Where he will always be
The boy who stole my heart.

A new selection from Ide Chiahemen Wise

September is here

September 19th, 2008

September has come to Surabaya.

Not the bracing chill of autumn,but the pressing heat of the late dry season.

I miss seasons.

I was just remembering how beautiful autumn could be. I look forward to rediscovering the colors and smells of a September morning. I’ve told Emily, the kids and my students about the long walks.

How difficult to communicate the long moments spent admiring the golds, reds and greens and browns. To feel the last warmth of the year on your face.

To stare unashamedly into clear autumn skies. To breathe deep of the cooling breeze. To taste greedily of the clean air.

How to explain looking up at the sky and knowing that this brief, transitory experience has to be embraced and then tucked safely away as winter’s approach is heralded in the ever-darkening skies.

Midnight flight

Midnight flight:
In the small hours of the night
She creeps out of bed.
For too long she has lain
Still as a corpse
Not daring to disturb
Her once quick-witted lover
Lying by her side.

Determined not to sleep
What else was there to do
But shuffle through the memories
Of the past three years?
Things hadn’t always been this way.
It wasn’t so difficult to recall the days
When the promise of love had been young.

Before the flames of anger
Began to burn her hopes down.
Growing red and hot.
Spewing fumes that choked and hurt.
Days when she dared voice
Her dreams and fears.
Before she learnt to bite her tongue.

Well, every marriage must endure
The usual wear and tear
But should that include
The odd punch, slap and kick?
Her mother thought so.
Even begged her to stay.
Talk of shame and family dishonour
Kept her shackled to her house of pain.

Oh she had tried to be a good daughter
And wife
But nothing it seems
Could soothe her itch to be free.
Nothing could suppress
The nagging voice inside asking
‘What about me?’

And what about her?
As she begins her flight
So commences her quest to find the answer.
The clip clap of her footsteps
Echo through the dark night.
She won’t turn back now.
The finish line’s in sight.

by Ide Wise