Category Archives: poetry

Blessed are those who are persecuted…

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Blessed are they who are persecuted because of me…

Blessed are the unfashionable

Blessed are those who dare to be

Different

And blessed are those who receive the scorn2273church_in_poso.jpg

Of others, because they know me

Blessed are those who are guilty

By association

And blessed are those who become the subject

Of gossip

Blessed are they in stunted careers

And broken friendships

Blessed are those who

Know rejection

Because of my name

january_jan11guantanamobayarrivalproc.jpg And blessed are the prison bars

Blessed is the lash

Blessed are the roaring lions

Blessed are the broken bodies

Bless this human

Trash

Bless them in their suffering

Bless them in their pain

And give to them

The keys to my

Kingdom

From ‘the beatitudes’- the whole thing is here.

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Big bang

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Great big bang

In the universe
Who decides
Which way is up
And which is down
Or is it just
Perspective?

And who lit the fuse
For the big bang
Or was all happenchance
Unconnected?

And who holds the stars
As they spin on strings
And turns the worlds
On poles?

Who fired the comets
Out of view
And opened up
Black holes?

You might see these
As loaded questions
Meant to mould you in my image

But I have no simple certainties
Just a pilgrim’s search

For knowledge

26.3.06

Blessed are the meek

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beggar.jpg
Blessed are the meek…

Blessed are those whose hearts are open
But whose pockets are empty

Blessed are the small people
Blessed are they in their
Powerlessness

Blessed is
Their lack of influence

And blessed are those who have
No guile
No artistry
No significance

Blessed are those who come with nothing
Because I would give them

Everything

I say it clearly
In common language-

Blessed are they
Because they shall
Own the earth

And through them
I am establishing

My Kingdom

From ‘The Beatitudes’, the rest can be found complete- here

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Blessed are the merciful

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aoradh.org – Beatitudes

Blessed are the merciful

Blessed are the tender ones
Who carry my mercy
In their very souls

Blessed are those who tremble
For the ones whose hearts
Have holes

For on them will always travel
Survivors

Blessed are they-

My life rafts

And blessed are you as the burdens
Become too much to bear

And the broken people

Break you

Blessed are you when you are all poured out
And now lie empty

For here

Am I

Blessed are you
Child of my heart

For through you
My blessings multiply
And My Kingdom

Is incandescent.

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I saw this poison in her veins

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I saw this poison in her veins
Running through her body like the venom
Of some ancient serpent
It has brought her to the edge of death
But has not (quite)
Been fatal

This state of toxicity
Has been her secret
And now also
Is mine

So let words be never uttered
Nor stories ever told
Of a child whose hope was stolen
Objectified and sold
This girl whose soul was still-born
Now 43 years old

We spend some time, she and I
Mapping the broken pieces of her life
Never quite seeing the full picture
But waiting for a new terrible tide
To leave rusty memories
Unprotected
Polluting the beach

She tells me of how this stain
Spread into her life
Dripped into her times of closeness
Took away her very self
And how it is all
Her own fault

How I wish we people came with a sump
To unplug and let the bad out
Even as I try to open up her head
And pour in good
It seems that all I do for a while
Is confuse
But bring no relief

I think of all the words of life that I have known and hoped for
And pray them too for her.

For healing, restoration, wholeness,
Grace and love and laughter
Patience kindness gentleness
Hope
And at the core of it all
Peace

7.11.06

Gravestones

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At rest on Flickr – Photo Sharing!

In ground that heaves and rolls
Stands old gravestones
Old sailors home from sea
Tilting at the wind,
Leaning into years
Growing slow lichens
Like ragged green clothes.
Soon to lay down low
And silent.

And it made me think that you and me,
Now standing tall against it all
Straight and strong
Our roads still long
Are winding our way towards
Our own appointment with the friendly ground.
When we set aside this monument
To our mortality.


Summer 2004.

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Clutter

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881934081_9f3a6bc280.jpg (JPEG Image, 321×500 pixels)

Clutter

I can hear a creaking
A groaning from the joists
Pipes and drains are leaking
Floor boards are tearing loose

Can you smell the horsehair plaster
Stripping off from lath?
This could bring disaster
Or perhaps could clear a freedom path
 
There’s a time for all things
The good book says
To reap, to weep, to build, to sing
To mourn a while before moving on

The marshal yards are empty now
And the cranes stand fixed and rusty
The shipyards moved to other towns
And the churches all lie
Empty

Lord teach me to move like water
Running from these mountains
Tear out my feet from concrete shoes
And dance me till I flutter

For freedom comes to those who find
Your keys amongst our clutter

 
Prayer room, Dunoon pier, 2006.

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Rebellion

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What shall it be today
Will it be rebellion,
Or shall I wear conformity
Like an old coat?

Oh that I could
Shake free
The grace you hid inside me
And set loose
The hounds of love
To harry the worn heels
Who left their shuffling footprints
Close by me

I have seen things
Whither and die
Behind a veneer
Of politeness

And can live this life
No more.

2006

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Dusk

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Dusk

Michaela loves that time when evening turns to dusk
When streetlights shine with purpose
But people have not yet drawn their curtains

There laid naked by approaching night
The secrets of some other sitting room
Are shelved
Are stored in boxes from Ikea
In two dimensions
Animated by the ubiquitous TV sets
Flickering from the corners.

Arm in arm we share clandestine glances
Whispering our words of approval or approbation
And walk on into our own lives.

There was a time when we watched in aspiration
Building middle class castles in our minds
Safe within suburbia
Dreaming of a day when we too would know the security
Of ownership.
A solid sideboard
And stripped pine floors.

Like the moths flapping at the amber streetlights
We are drawn to the artificial arc
Of convention
And conformity
Tied down to the temporal
Walking to stand still.

Michaela and I
We sometimes transcend the tramlines
Or at least we try
We catch a glimpse of another way
The scent of freedom on the breeze
Blown there from another Kingdom
And we start to fly.

I do not believe that Icarus
Melted his wax wings
I think he mortgaged them.

20.2.06

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Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness…

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Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness…

Blessed are those whose spirit
Rises to meet mine

And who are never satisfied with

Easy compromise

Blessed are they who lay down their rights
To look for my righteousness

Blessed are they who quest

Beyond dogmadogma1.gif

Into me

Blessed are they as they as they escape
The confines of what is known

To search for more

Blessed are those who are vulnerable
And whose necks are stretched

To my sword

For it will fall

Kindly

And blessed are those dirty streets
Where rests

My manna

Blessed are they

For there I am planting

My Kingdom