A Voice Made of Wood and Steel

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Isn’t it strange? When we struggle to pray, silence robs our expression

And here you are

I put you in a bag, leave you aside

Why do I do that?

You are my voice when words falter

Wood and steel

Strings that ring, calling me to whisper my needs to you

Wood resonates, and the words unbidden echo

In my soul

Like the melodies from you

need a voice

yours helps me find it

Maybe
Your presence
Makes me feel less abandoned
I’m not really sure

I just know
When I hold you in my hands
And you sing
I feel alive

Covid has stolen my expression
But yours still sings
Teach me
How to echo
Your melody
And begin
To remember

Mine

God of Love

God of love
Call me out
Of my daily life
Bid me rest 
At end of day

For your love
Is ever near
I can often hear
You call my name
The patter of the rain
Calls my name

When fear beckons
As I journey through each day
Whisper to my heart
The words that tell me
Of your love
Stronger than death
Closer than my breath
Holding my heart
Next to yours

And when night falls
Like a cloak
Fear stalks
On the prowl
For the unwary
Remind me 
That I am in your care
Your love is there
Holding me close
Till morning comes

Love me
Morning, noon, night
Remind me that your sight
Is ever near
And I am in your gaze

Nothing should I fear
For you are near
My rod, my staff
My heart is in your hands

Instrumental Music and Poetry – a Different Perspective

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For most people, an instrumental peice of music is relaxing, a chance to zone out.

For me, certainly for quite a few peices, instrumental music clicks a switch and words pour out. Most of the time, I can’t keep up with it. Tonight was no exception, I think I broke my standing record of 5 one after the other, I think it was 6

After 30+ years of writing, I should be used to it happening, but certainly that number, always catches me by surprise.

The strangest experience has been that, lately, I don’t really feel the poetry the way I used to. Those who know me know of the fraught time March 2010 to September 2011 was. Suffice it to say the family was pummeled with illness and my dad didn’t make it out, he died 3 March 2011 and life literally has never been the same

The six poems are here on the site and are listed below. Just click on the name of the poem you want to read and it will take you to it.

Author of My Life
Pour Your Gifts
Blest Are They
Night Falls
God of Love

Author of My Life

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What Lord can I give you
Broken as I am?
In total surrender
I turn to You

Author of my story
Teller of my life
You, my lord, in glory
And I in my strife

Teach me you are present there
In all the pain and rage
When the people gathered see
The anguish on my stage

Bid me come to you and hold me in your hand
Your love is eternal, stretching o’er every land
Bid me rest in you, and let my cares be still
For they fade away in the light of day
Yet your love never will

When the fears taunt me
Bid me come to you
And when night terrors scare me so
Father, love me true
Till the break of day

Pour Your Gifts

Dance Lord in our midst
Send your Spirit
Touch our lives

Pour your gifts over us
Like oil
Touch our brokenness
And teach us
Of joy

And peace surpassing understanding
Joy without end
Teach us the melody
Of a song without end

Love us, as you loved us into birth
Guide us in our journey
As we live upon the earth

Love us as we wander
And return home to you
For you are eternal
Ever old, and ever new

A constant in a world ever changing
A world born anew each day
The constant voice calling
Showing us the way

The song of the birds
The joy of the earth
Revelling in the love
That is constantly coming to birth

We are part of the story
Each has a part to play
Blest, loved, forgiven
As we journey 
On our pilgrim way

Teach us Holy Spirit
Paraclete blest
Of the love that is our Father
And the Son that is blest

For our breath is yours
Our heart beats for you
Father, Son, Spirit
Love born anew

For you are our Lord
Ever old, ever new
And you
Are the reason
We are travelling
Home
To you

Blest Are They

Blest are they with wounded hearts
And with broken souls
For the master healer will touch them
Make them whole

We are all wounded
Yet choose not to see
That the master healer
Touches and sets free the broken hearted

Break our stubborn hearts
And bend our wills
Teach of your healing touch
Tell us you love us still

Lead us back
When the world seduces
An innocent eye
Promising riches and fame

Let us not end
In the pig sty
Longing to fill our hearts
With the food they leave

We will never be free
Satisfied
Or whole
Unless we are whole in you

Call us back
Seduce us once more
With songs of love
Forgiveness
Joy
Peace
And wholeness

We are made 
To be yours
And we will never find joy
Until you are found

Bring us back
Lost sheep that we are
Embrace us in your mercy
And show us
We are truly loved
And bring us
Home

Night Falls

Night falls once more
And fills the silence
The depth of night
Touches my soul
I am alone
Yet He is beside
The heart that beats
The love that waits
Is for Him alone

Bid me, Lord, come
When the deepest night surrounds
And the echoing sounds
Disturb my sleep

Bid me listen to your voice
That speaks of mercy
And tells of a love
Vaster than time

An endless tale
Told countless times
To those who fear
And ever near
You hold our hearts

You hold our hearts

Yes in our darkness you are the brightest light
And in our woundedness, you heal our soul
Give us Your Spirit
Grant us your peace
For we are lost
Yet the cost 
Of our freedom was paid

By a love that is eternal
And a heart that ever lives
To beat in time
With our own
Come, Holy Spirit touch us now
Heal our souls
And soothe our angry hearts
To make us whole

Soothe our hearts
And cool our anger
Speak once again
To a wounded child
Remind us Lord,
That you are Father
And we are yours

Yes, we are yours
When rich or poor
Whole or wounded
Love us Father
Love us once more



The Road

The road is long
And weary steps I tread
For so long, my feet felt like lead
Yet, I know where I go
And am going to be

Where the water
Meets the sky
Where my soul can fly
Away from her

It fell dark
So quickly
And losing my way
I fell

The ground was hard
And I could tell
This is not the place
I want to be

I hold your staff
In my hand
And the land before me
Seems vast

It beckons me
Yet in that expanse
That silence
Stills my voice

Bids me hear the voice of calm
Echoing after the storm
“You are not alone”

“I am with you
Hold out your hand
Place it in mine
For I am yours
And you are mine”

Hold me close
Remind me who I am
Who you are
And bid the storm in my heart
Depart

A Year of the Pandemic – A Year to Remember

Who would have imagined it? A tiny virus bringing the planet to their knees?

On 20th March 2020, we were sent home, with the message that we would be working remotely. None of us had the slightest inkling of an idea what an impact that message would have

So many have pointed fingers, and criticised. First, the Chinese, then each government in turn. They didn’t act soon enough, or they didn’t do enough. Now it’s we want to open everything up again, and get back to normal

What, now, is normal? Is it obsessive hand washing, people scared to touch their faces? Wearing masks in shops, and running a mile instead of chatting to friends? Playing the guess who it is under the mask game?

In the end, none of it really matters. Yes, I want to get back to work, and yes, I want my routine back. I want to be able to walk into a church, and if I feel like it, sit next to a friend. I want to be able to walk in there without a mask, without test and trace, and without being told I can’t even sit and reflect after communion.

There are some positives though. None of us would consider ourselves to be antisocial, but in our everyday lives, how many of us talk to our neighbours? Mainly because we work full time and we just don’t see each other

This is the second spring with us working from home. We have the time to gaze out into our gardens, watching the blackbird having a wash in the bird bath, or gathering nesting material. We see horses, with riders, going past the front window. There are stables not far from us, so it’s not an unusual sight. Watching the sparrows have a dust bath, or squabble as they bounce around in the trees in the front garden.

When we have the chance to look back, after this is all over, what will we remember? Will it be the anxious times, sitting watching the Prime Minister urging us to stay at home and protect the NHS? Or will it be the delights of nature?

I suspect it will be both

Either way, the Lord is still here, ever present, ever loving. The cross of love has always been constant, no matter the human landscape changing and evolving in front of it. Christ’s sacrifice was for all time, and His love ever with us.

I know I am struggling, nights are disturbed and restless, and days seem to vary in length, quite an achievement when I know they’re all the same length. I am also sure I’m not the only one.

All I know is that the cross is always there, God is a constant presence, and no matter our trials and tribulations, no matter how we feel, good or bad, we are loved, and really when it comes down to it

That’s all that matters!

Online Crucifixion

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How does it happen
Not a word is spoken
Yet an online
Crucifixion
Happens

What’s the difference?
Between the mocking
Of the baying crowd
At Calvary
And the sniping
On social media?

The victim
The same
The pain
As real

Characters
Assassinated
By nameless voices

It’s all too easy
To mock
Behind words
Keyboards and mice
Modern nails

On crosses made
Online
Yet the agony
Is real

Tell me
Would the same
Have happened
If social media
Had been
On Calvary?

Stop
Think
Keyboards
Mice
Have no conscience
But we do

Virtual assassins
Just as dirty as the real ones
Take a look at ourselves
Would we like it?
Don’t dish out
What you can’t take

Thank God
He doesn’t judge
Pass sentence
With a keyboard
And a mouse

Heal this, Lord
Take us away
To the desert
Of the heart
Speak your love
In our lives

Take away
The knives
The pain
And love us
Once more