These are

 

by Jane Olivier

 

 

 

 

When an omniscient conscience amuses itself

with a void demanding filling,

infinite worlds are opened

to composers, artists and clowns to

mess around with all that’s not there

in an attempt to comfort the vacuum.

 

There are those who fill it with

concerto’s and blues; those who fill it

with landscapes and cubes; or those who fill it

with the wanderings of hallucinogenics.

 

There are those who open themselves

to the nothing allowing it to fill them,

playing with consonants and vowels

until nothing composes itself

into a void-filler that moves

 

notes and phrases to the musician,

tones and shades to the artist,

a voice to the orator and

caresses to lovers.

 

These are the poets.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jane Olivier, born in Peterborough, Ontario, raised and spent most of her life in South Africa.  She has travelled extensively throughout Africa on business, as a journalist and always a poet.  Lived in Cambodia for two years where she built a children’s home and school, and since 2009 has been travelling the world attempting to make sense of it through words.