Our hero(or villian) the E-book.

What’s not to love about the E-book? You can read your favorite titles from the comfort of  the computer or on a stylish E-reader device. No hassle in book-hunting at the closest bookstore with their exorbitant prices and flashy sale gimmicks, no more having to constantly watch those fragile paper-backs for damp, tears and the yellowing of age. In our 21st ” I want everything now” century world, the E-book must surely be an ideal invention to suit our fast paced lifestyles.

Then again what is there not to hate about the E-book?                                       It’s deceptively stylish design may fit in with the ” hipness” modern times, but does it really have the same appeal as a book with its gentle pages and an odor fresh from its new release? Can it be a beautiful and enduring as the experience of reading the book on a cold, rainy day, cuddled up in your favorite arm-chair with a steaming cup of tea?

In my opinion the E-book will eventually emerge from the shadow of its original counterpart in years to come, but there will always be a dedicated market whose emotional affiliation with the book keeps them in touch like the increasingly nostalgic films in Hollywood this year to another, happier time in their lives.

What is your opinion?


Verses on autumn

What is there not to love about autumn? Falling amber and golden brown leaves crackling underfoot, the return of football and the magic of the Fall Classic, thanksgiving turkeys, grandma’s wool sweaters and that brisk wind that fills the lungs.

Here are some verses by Katherine Mansfield:

Autumn Song by Katherine Mansfield
Now’s the time when children’s noses
All become as red as roses
And the colour of their faces
Makes me think of orchard places
Where the juicy apples grow,
And tomatoes in a row.And to-day the hardened sinner
Never could be late for dinner,
But will jump up to the table
Just as soon as he is able,
Ask for three times hot roast mutton–
Oh! the shocking little glutton.Come then, find your ball and racket,
Pop into your winter jacket,
With the lovely bear-skin lining.
While the sun is brightly shining,
Let us run and play together
And just love the autumn weather.

Reflections on the true souls of Africa from the third generation

This evening I watched BBC World News as I always try to do everyday in order to get a sense of what’s happening in the world. Some of you who are like me will have heard that North Sudan may declare war on the South  if it does not get its oilfields back. At first I shook my head in disgust that such a pointless conflict could break out, but later as I washed dishes I got a blast inside my head. I saw another Darfur, an orgy of murder and rape, and could imagine the West, as I did to that evening story, would shake their heads at another of Africa’s failures. ”Time to save they day!” they may cry and rush forward with neocolonial aid; while arms dealers lick their lips and, excuse the cliché, add fuel to the fire.

When I introduced myself a couple of days ago I forgot to mention the most important thing: I am a child of the third generation. A kid who’s seen two continents, two different ways of life and two perceptions on global affairs. A dominant America living the dream and a South Africa and Africa still battling to release the sins of Colonialism, Imperialism and Apartheid.

I still remember my last day of elementary school in the United States. I was saying good-bye to everyone when some idiot shouted, ”I hope you don’t get eaten by an lions!” It was harmless then, but now that I think about it was offensive, offensive to what this the ‘dark’, underdog continent has managed to achieve. This poem I found by Rex Warner will hopefully show that Africa is not dead but has persevered. It always gets up and goes work in spite of the obstacles.

Nile Fishermen

Naked men,fishing in Nile without a licence, knee-deep in it, pulling gaunt at stretched ropes.Round the next bend is the police boat and the officials ready to make an arrest on the yellow sand.

The splendid bodies are stark to the swimming sand, taut to the ruffled water, the flickering palms, yet swelling and quivering as they tug at the trembling ropes. Their faces are bent along the arms and still.

Sun is torn in coloured petals on the water, the water shivering in the heat and the north wind; and near and far billow out white swollen crescents, the clipping wings of feluccas, seagull sails.

A plunge in the turbid water, a quick joke stirs a flashing of teeth, an invocation of God. Here is food to be fetched and living from labour. The tight ropes strain and the glittering backs for the haul.

Round the bend comes the police boat. The men scatter. The officials blow their whistles on the golden sand. They overtake and arrest bodies of men who follow with sullen faces, and leave their nests behind.


Source: Allott,K. (1962). The penguin book of contemporary verse. second edition, Bungay, Suffolk, Great Britain: Richard Clay & Company Ltd.

Hello world

Greetings readers and fellow bloggers.

I would like to introduce myself to the WordPress community as Jonathan Rowe. I am currently eighteen years old.

As an aspiring writer, I have always been interested in creating a blog but have made time as my excuse. Not anymore. I have been persuaded by my father to make my mind known

I am a devout christian and believe that by sharing my faith through the talents that God has given me I will glorify him. My blogs will mostly focus on poetry, but also some thoughts on literature. I have been influenced by the works of Steinbeck, Orwell and Angelou, all of whom give life to characters and settings whenever they put a pen to paper.

Whenever possible, I will share some of my own pieces and will include others that I find uplifting and humorous.

I will try to post about three times a week. Being new to this and trying to master some of the items(such as themes) I would appreciate any helpful feedback that you can.

God bless.