AboutLife

The morning heralds sing quite unrehearsed
A feathered fusillade of sweetest praise
Spreading from bush and branch...from field and hill
Lifting the misty dawn...exposing then
The parchment-paper day...and oh the thrill
As prayer like incense to The Lamb they raise

Lord let me on time's page...produce a poem
In holy meter...scribed from dawn till dusk
Not though with pen and ink but greater still

History records the worship well
Centuries of fervent frenzied praise
To this sightless god we have subscribed
Self-interest marks the standard that we waved

Mammon has fallen!... How can this be the case?
For surely this was never meant to be?
His promise pandered to our every need
Oh how we loved this dying deity

How slow to learn ... and even as he dies

Slow morning rose and spread her golden glow
Across the white roofed houses by the bay
And leisure-light threw shadows in relief
While cockerels crowed matins discordantly

A fishing boat cut through a crystal sea
Leaving a crescent scar a white mile long
Yet silent...for the wind had blown away
Her rythmic...muttered...measured...diesel song

Tranquility exploded all around

 
 
 
Garden thoughts are good thoughts…Don’t you think?
To sit and ponder where the flowers grow
And tune in to the drone of laden bees
They play a sort of honey-hymn you know
 
Garden thoughts are good thoughts…Don’t you think?

Starlight fades…night’s velvet cloak withdraws
Though indistinct at first the colours come
A blurry brown…a splash of green perhaps
As morning mists flee from a rising sun

And sun kissed hills reflect a golden glow
Upon their weather beaten craggy crowns
Like ancient saints…their holy halos wear
Their jurisdiction…valley…village…towns

If I must leave a legacy
What kind of thing do I foresee
Would benefit those left behind
And help them be more Christ-inclined?
 
Money? Worldly goods and such?
Don’t think that these would help too much
A tough exterior? Dear o dear
That won’t bring heaven close I fear

The iron bars are bending Lord
I sense Your presence near
My will so long controlled by self
Has every right to fear

For holy light streams through my cell
Exposed…it is undone      
Self-will is forced to make a choice
For self or for God’s Son

Should self remain then Love is lost

Not yet your captive Lord
Hence I’m not fully free
My sword I wield against Thy will
That’s what imprisons me

Determined to defend
This kingdom that is mine
I resolutely stand against
Your will to make it Thine

How foolish I can be

I find I toy with worldly trinkets still
And dip into the pleasure-tank at times
To find I have been duped alas again
My choice has been the sordid oe’r sublime

I judge myself too harshly some might say
Perhaps my sin might seem a trifling thing
But not to God…it mars a holy walk

 
Transmitted on the frequency of sin
The lie is beamed abroad from Satan’s lair
The object is to find receptive minds
Housewife…Clerk…or Playboy Millionaire
It matters not one whit what we are called
The object of the lie is to destroy
Corrupt our faith and challenge saving truth
And myriad are the methods he’ll deploy
And in this way the glory goes to him