Thursday, October 2, 2008



Monday, September 29, 2008


I revieved this e mail today and thought I should share it with everyone reading my blog, enjoy and take note!

This was a speech made by Pulitzer Prize-winning author, Anna Quintile
at the graduation ceremony of an American university where she was
awarded an Honorary PhD.

"I'm a novelist. My work is human nature. Real life is all I know.

Don't ever confuse the two, your life and your work. You will walk out
of here this afternoon with only one thing that no one else has. There will be hundreds of people out there with your same degree: there will be thousands of people doing what you want to do for a living.

But you will be the only person alive who has sole custody of your life.
Your particular life. Your entire life. Not just your life at a desk or your life on a bus or in a car or at the computer. Not just the life of your mind, but the life of your heart. Not just your bank accounts but also your soul.
People don't talk about the soul very much anymore. It's so much easier to write a resume than to craft a spirit. But a resume is cold comfort on a winter's night, or when you're sad, or broke, or lonely, or when you've received your test results and they're not so good.

Here is my resume: I am a good mother to three children.
I have tried never to let my work stand in the way of being a good parent. I no longer consider myself the centre of the universe. I show up. I listen. I try to laugh. I am a good friend to my husband. I have tried to make marriage vows mean what they say. I am a good friend to my friends and them to me. Without them, there would be nothing to say to you today, because I would be a cardboard cut out. But I call them on the phone and I meet them for lunch. I would be rotten, at best mediocre, at my job if those other things were not true.

You cannot be really first rate at your work if your work is all you are. So here's what I wanted to tell you today:

Get a life. A real life, not a manic pursuit of the next promotion, the bigger pay cheque, the larger house. Do you think you'd care so very much about those things if you blew an aneurysm one afternoon or found a lump in your breast?

Get a life in which you notice the smell of salt water pushing itself on a breeze at the seaside, a life in which you stop and watch how a red-tailed hawk circles over the water, or the way a baby scowls with concentration when she tries to pick up a sweet with her thumb and first finger.

Get a life in which you are not alone. Find people you love, and who love you. And remember that love is not leisure, it is work. Pick up the phone. Send an email. Write a letter. Get a life in which you are generous. And realize that life is the best thing ever, and that you have no business taking it for granted. Care so deeply about its
goodness that you want to spread it around. Take money you would have spent on beer and give it to charity. Work in a soup kitchen. Be a big brother or sister. All of you want to do well. But if you do not do good too, then doing well will never be enough.

It is so easy to waste our lives, our days, our hours, and our minutes.
It is so easy to take for granted the colour of our kids' eyes, the way the melody in a symphony rises and falls and disappears and rises again.
It is so easy to exist instead of to live.

I learned to live many years ago. I learned to love the journey, not the destination.
I learned that it is not a dress rehearsal, and that today is the only guarantee you get.
I learned to look at all the good in the world and try to give some of it back because I believed in it, completely and utterly. And I tried to do that, in part, by telling
others what I had learned. By telling them this: Consider the lilies of
the field. Look at the fuzz on a baby's ear. Read in the back yard with
the sun on your face.

Learn to be happy. And think of life as a terminal illness, because if you do, you will live it with joy!

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Pinewood in e book format

Check this out, my Western novel, Pinewood, is now also available as an e book, and at a fraction of the cost of the paperback. So if you are interested, feel free to contact me at my e mail address: or by calling me at 27 83 276 8643. Alternatively you can order it on Bid or Buy, e bay or Vottle.
For a sneak preview, scroll down and have a peek. (look under older posts)
Thanks for reading my blog.

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 3, 2008

Sunday, August 24, 2008

A tribute to my lovely wife!

Written by Colin Immelman

Three happy years today, married to you my beautiful bride,
Generally speaking it was an easy ride.
Life’s 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!

Jackie - Hangman

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.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Pinewood western

Check this out, my Western novel, Pinewood, is now also available as an e book, and at a fraction of the cost of the paperback. So if you are interested, feel free to contact me at my e mail address: or by calling me at 27 83 276 8643. Alternatively you can order it on Bid or Buy, e bay or Vottle.
For a sneak preview, scroll down and have a peek.
Thanks for reading my blog.

Wednesday, July 2, 2008


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!

Monday, June 23, 2008

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!

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Monday, December 17, 2007

Pinewood - Western

About the Book - Pinewood.

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Tom McAskill is searching. A Texas Ranger three times over, he has managed to put aside a little bit of money, but can’t seem to find the place to settle that will give him peace.
Since his wife Jessica and newborn son died, he has been roaming the plains of Texas.

Unsure whether he will ever settle, he trots into a little town called Pinewood, oblivious of the fact that all hell is about to break loose and that he’ll need all his trail experience to survive.
An honest and hard working man, taught at an early age to fight for justice, he finds himself pitted against ruthless adversaries that have no qualms to kill, maim or shoot a man in the back.
He courageously takes on the challenge in a bid to protect not only his own life, but that of the whole town.
A superb story of courage, justice and love that keeps you on the edge of your seat while trying to weed out the bad from the good.

About The Author

Colin Immelman is a South African born author, currently living in Port Elizabeth. A man that is very familiar with violence and law enforcement, he worked as a policeman for twenty three years, including almost a decade at a murder and robbery unit. In this book he has combined his experience with his passion for reading.

He has been a passionate reader since he could first work out the alphabet. Throughout his career he has used his very strong sense of justice to maintain law and order and solve crime. This sense of justice and honesty is evident in his writing and his personal life.

His versatility becomes obvious in the fact that as strong as his westerns are, his children’s stories are gentle. His wife, Yolande has recently given birth to a baby boy and he takes great joy in his family. He is currently involved in various other writing projects.

Free Preview to Pinewood.

When Mason regained consciousness he rather wished that he hadn’t or that he was dead. Everything was in a haze of terrible, insurmountable and intense pain. He tried to look around, only the whole wide world seemed to have been split wide open and turned upside down. His left eye could barely open to a slit and seemed to be an extension of his body, the other swollen shut and his neck stiff and sore. His head felt thick and heavy and his body as if it had been lit up in a barn fire. Through the fog of his agony he deliriously considered that he might be dead and was in hell. The concept of judgment and death was new to him as he had never before given either a great deal of thought. He’d been raised as decent as the next man, but evil was always prevalent and he’d never paid much mind to anything that didn’t satisfy his personal gain.
As a young man he’d had the reputation amongst his family and peers of being possessed with a temper as short as a used up match and at sixteen he’d killed his first man. After the first one, and the realization of how easy it was, he’d adopted a violent way of life. Predisposed with an uncommonly natural talent at handling firearms of any kind, he’d used his specialty of pistol shooting to become a gunfighter and outlaw, always scheming, conniving and manipulating. He was wise though and never put himself in the eyes, but preferred to play life like a game, instigating and creating vicious prairie wars amongst folk that had been right neighborly before his appearance. That was how he had escaped the rope, nobody knew him as the real culprit and there wasn’t a damn thing that could ever be proved against him, because, when trouble started, he was on a fast horse, lighting a shuck, and when the dust settled, he had long since vanished. He was a born leader with not one iota of respect for human life. All these traits he combined and chose to use for every wrong reason there was in the world.

When he came to Pinewood, he was new in the state of Texas and crimes left behind in other states were unknown to the local folk. He’d already made a bundle from stealing and robbing, making him a wealthy man by ill gotten gains. His aim now was power, so he started out at being the banker, under the pseudonym, Orvil James Goodes.
When he first met Laura, he liked her, wanted her, maybe even fell in love with her, although he wasn’t at all sure he knew what love meant. He was a man always got what he wanted and not the kind of man took kindly to chasing women around like a puppy dog and he planned to do things the right way, wanting her to come to him instead of the other way around. In his twisted mind he was set to believing that money and status were as important to others as it was to him and was totally incapable of grasping the concept that for some these things didn’t matter.
Then he met Parks and they started having themselves a little communication over a drink once or twice. From experience, he knew instinctively that Parks was a born follower, and given time and the right guidance, he could convince Parks to get involved in rustling cattle. He’d promised Parks a large percentage of the money made from this venture, and Parks, being the fool he was, fell for it.
He led Parks to believe that Henderson, a hustler and shyster as mean as they come, from Porterville, was the organizer of the thefts, and Henderson indeed provided a few good men to do most of the rustling. Some of them even took over when some of Parks’ hands were not overly anxious to get involved. Neatly planned, he made Henderson appear as the low-down dirty dog which appeared perfectly plausible, when in reality he was just another scapegoat.
Had things run a foul, folks would have gone after Henderson, giving Mason time enough to steal the money in the bank and straddle a fast horse with his ill-gotten gains.
Parks owned the ranch furthest south, serving for all practical purposes as a gate to Mexico, allowing Parks to transport the young stuff, rustled from other ranches to go through his ranch to Mason’s contact on the border to Mexico.


Available at, Author House or your nearest bookstore, just quote the following number: - ISBN number: 978-1-4343-3178-6 (sc)and order, or contact me at 083 276 8643 or 041 368 3654 (South Africa) 27 dialing code in front of numbers.