Poems 2018

You mess, you confess, (Haiku)

You mess, you confess,
And God will forgive your sin
‘Cause God is like that.

Full English (Tanka)

Full English Breakfast.
‘My body is a temple’
We pray over plates
Of bacon, sausage and fat.
A heart attack on a plate.

Valentine’s Day Poem (Sonnet)

Let not our winters be of discontent
Let frost stretch forth its icy fingers, Bind
our lives together, how much have they meant
Two hearts living as one, our lives entwined.
For thirty seven years I’ve lived with you
It feels so short a time I’ve loved you so
The sweet content of lying beside you
Is as much as my heart desires to know
So blow winds blow, your storms shall not make hearts
flinch, Passion’s anchors hold throughout the night
of darkness, love and faith in  inner parts
rely to God to bring us through to light.
What God has given me, should my heart fall
Is Linda, she’s the fairest of them all.

The tree of life

God planted two special trees in a garden,
God planted the tree of life in a garden,
God never said, ‘Do not eat the fruit of the tree of life,’
God said, ‘Do not eat the fruit of the tree of knowledge,
‘or you will die’

But the man
And the woman
Did not eat the fruit of the tree of life.
But the man
And the woman
Ate the fruit of the tree of knowledge.
And they did not die.

Then the man said, ‘The woman made me do it, it’s not my fault.’
Then the woman said, ‘The snake made me do it, it’s not my fault,’
The snake was silent.
So God said, ‘I will take the blame.’
So God took the blame
and God died.

and God became alive

Because God took the blame and died
The tree of life has been transplanted
Into God’s Garden
It is there, available,
If we will only thank God
For taking our blame
And dying.

and we become alive.

No second death

We believe in resurrection,
We believe in second birth.
Mighty God , in his affection
for us humans, did unearth
the way to avoid rejection
is to give God his worth.

The interconnection
of man’s rejection
and God’s election
is a reflection
on resurrection.

New stone – New start

God’s hidden manna,
A white stone with a new name.
is what you receive.

To start again with God
is not to turn over to a new page
the book is written,
a new page still leaves the old behind, intact.

To start again with God
is not turning over to a new page,
it is throwing the book away.
It is burning the book,
and burying the ashes where they will never be found.

You are a new creation
The old has passed away.


I will give him the morning star

I will give him the morning star,
unfading, glorious brilliance

I am the brilliant Morning Star
the harbinger of the day,
the bringer of light, life, and joy.
I am in royal splendour;
and I give to every faithful believer
the gift to be like me
in royal splendour.

Those who overcome,
will participate in the triumph of my rule
over all those secular and materialistic pretenders
to to my throne.

The victorious Christian shares
in my glorious triumph and authority,
and possesses me as an everlasting treasure.

White Clothes

People said, “This church is lively,”
People said, “This church is good.
“This is where I choose to worship
“I come weekly, as I should
“They do things the way I like,
“If you don’t like it take a hike.”

Jesus said, “This church is dying,”
Jesus said, “This church is dead.
“I’m not present in your worship,
“You just praise yourselves instead.
“I am not your first intent,
“I have just one word, ‘Repent.’”

There are some that overcame this,
They are those who will not die.
They shall see me in my heaven
Set at God’s right hand on high;
When like stars his children crowned
All in white shall be around.

With additional words from a hymn by Mrs C F Alexander,

Is this supposed to be the good stuff?

A pillar? Am I as hard hearted as that?
Never to go out? Trapped then.
As for the name writing, I’ve never been into tattoos, sensitive skin.
Is this supposed to be the good stuff?
If this is what conquerors get I’ll rather be submissive, if that’s all right by you.

What do you mean that is not alright?
You want me to conquer?
Is this supposed to be the good stuff?
I’ve never been good at fighting.

It’s not that kind of conqueror?
What other kind is there?
One who endures?
Is this supposed to be the good stuff?
I’ve never been good at enduring. Even in hospital I’m the impatient patient.

When you said follow me
I was thinking of walking together through meadows
of wild flowers
the warm breeze blowing through our hair
But the dream has gone

Is this supposed to be the good stuff?
Even the hair has gone.

I am too weak to fight.
I enlisted for heaven and playing a harp on a cloud, not to be in an army,
I’m not cut out to be a soldier.

But then you came to me again,
Put your arm on my shoulder,
All I felt was love.

You told me you had already done this
That you would never ask me to do something you would not do.
That you would be there with me
You would be my strength,
You would be my courage.

So I got up and followed you again.
With only your name on my lips.

I have found the good stuff.

Only come

A poem about Jesus – and a mash up of ’60s and ’70s pop lyrics

I don’t want to be like you
I just want to be like me
Looking after number one
Is the way I want to be.

I do not need help
I’ll get through it my own way
I don’t really need you,
I’m OK every day.

But in the cold light of the morning
When there’s no one there to hear
I am left with the same worries,
I am left with the same fears

I try but I can’t get no
No satisfaction in my head
I need but will not listen
To the words that Jesus said

He says that I am needy
He tells me I need his love
I just say I do it my way
Without assistance from above

He says give up all my striving
For what this old world cannot give
He says he can bring contentment
He says he can make me live

He says he will raise me heavenwards
All I have to do is come
For the prize that Jesus gives us
Is what the Father gave his Son.

Easter Sunday – 1 April 2018

Two break ins

A poem

This year:
Sunday, at daybreak
A child breaks into a chocolate egg
And what she wants comes out
A small packet of chocolate buttons.

Years ago:
Sunday, at daybreak
God breaks in to a sealed tomb
And what we need comes out
A Saviour, a Christ, A Messiah
God has raised Jesus from the dead.

Going Up!

a poem for ascension

Going up!

We saw him go, obscured by clouds,
Back home to sit on heaven’s throne
Before he went he told us, “Wait,
“I will not leave you here alone.”

Going up!

So sit we here, with upward gaze
and contemplating Heaven’s glory.
Ans what he did in three short years
the scintillating Heaven’s story.

Going up!

This man this Jesus, God come down
to earth, the love of God poured down
by taking on himself our sin,
our hate, our burdens wins God’s crown.

Going up!

He died the sacrifice for all
but God, in triumph, raised him up
Our sin our hate and burdens killed
in Jesus we too are raised up

Going up!

We saw him go, obscured by clouds,
Back home to sit on heaven’s throne
Before he went he told us, “Wait,
“I will not leave you here alone.”

Going up!



a poem for pentecost

Fire falls, the promised power;
its harbinger the sound of a hurricane.
God’s Holy Spirit has come upon the Church.

Flames come to rest
and frightened men are filled with confidence.
God’s Holy Spirit repairing shattered lives .

The sound of the wind and the sound of many voices in many languages,
Then a lone voice,
The voice of the biggest coward …
The one who denied knowing …
Now speaks with boldness.
Gods Holy Spirit is reaching out.

On them
In them
With them
The Holy Spirit speaks.
120 frightened broken men become 3,000.

The Church is born.