This poem is a reflects on what it is I love about poetry and other art

As the poet's pen dances across the page
she weaves a web which captures worlds,
ensnares ephemeral moments
which, without her craft,
are, all too soon, gone.

She traps the transcendent,
crystalises memories
of fragile, forgotten yesteryears;
the wonder and the warmth,
places and faces which shape the self.

Her art,
like street lamps shining bright
illuminates the road we each have travelled.
Those shared paths of sadness and joy.
Rambling roads which widen and narrow
but all
eventually
lead
home.

The Rock

One of the perpetual challenges of any Christian ministry is balancing what is our work and what is God's work.  This poem explores something of that with the idea with the idea of trying to move an immoveable rock.

Stressing, straining, sweating, complaining;
They tried to move the rock.
Rooted, remaining, resisting, unchanging
The rock remained quite still.

Projecting, predicting, proclaiming, declaring;
This rock just has to move.
Rooted, remaining, resisting, unchanging
The rock remained quite still.

Stubborn, stupid, selfish, clueless;
The rock didn't understand.
Rooted, remaining, resisting, unchanging,
The rock remained quite still.

Tearful, tantrums, trials and stress;
This rock caused endless pain.
Rooted, remaining, resisting, unchanging,
The rock remained quite still.

Penitent, prayerful, petitioning, faithful;
The rock was barely a pebble.
Transferred, transformed, truly loved,
The rock is life filled dust.

Empowered, enabled, emboldened, hope filled;
The rock is the foundaiton.
Beginning, believing, building, receiving,
The rock redeemed by love.

Sanctuary

This is a poem I wrote about the New Wine Sanctuary Venue which I have been blessed to co-lead. I shared it during a reflection about the space. People wondered if it was a a available anywhere, so here it is.

Welcome to this thin place
Where the hungry feed on bounteous grace
Where wounded hearts are held and healed
Where teaching is imbibed and sealed

Welcome to this peaceful place
Where we draw nearer to your face,
Where people soak within God's love,
Where the Spirit descends from above.

Welcome Lord, meet us here,
Where stillness will drive out our fear.
Where hope invites transformation
Where lives are changed through redemption.

In the Silence

Priesting retreat, Foxhill, 6-8th June 2013

Far from the madding crowd,
Where arboreal guardians surround,
I enter the symphony of silence.

This chorale is accompanied by birdsong chatter
And tea cup’s clatter.
The crowd’s cacophonous call cannot compete
With the overture of perfect peace.
Here, I lay down to rest.

My mind is stretched and put to the test,
By the task that lies ahead.
Where the world’s competing calls cry and crow
Cajoling us to march to their beat.
The demand for a pastor who works ever faster;
A priest who can juggle and fly.
A vicar who’s slicker
Who stops people bicker
Whilst maintaining their cool all the while.

There is relief in this quiet place.
This ridiculous raucous racket of requests
Finds no traction in the echo of silence.
My reality rests in eternity’s breast,
In the closeness of one quiet call.
The Father’s word is heard;
Calling the sinner home;
Holding and healing
Blessing and dreaming
Of how heaven’s hymn could be sung.

In this silent place,
The soloist’s song soars,
‘Do not fear,
For I have redeemed you,
I have called you by name,
You are mine.’
In the swelling symphonic song of silence,
I sing my eternal refrain,
‘Here I am, send me!’

Stations of the Cross

The Stations of the Cross are a traditional Christian way of meditating on the passion.  There are traditionally 14 images, three of which are Christ falling.  Tonight I led the reflecitons in our church on the stations using poems for each section.  These are the three complimentary poems for the three times Christ falls:

Christ Falls for the First Time

Step by step Along this brutal path
Each step
Nearer death
Wood scraping
Taunts flung
Bile and hatred
Directed at the Christ


Step by step
Along this brutal path
Each step
Nearer death
Head crowned as Thorns bite
Back screams as fresh whip furrows sap strength
Head swimming
Knees caving
Darkness growing
Floor coming up fast
Nerves playing a symphonic cacophony of searing submerging pain
Every inch of this fragile form failing, falling
As the cross crashes down to crush it’s carrier

Blackness.
A silver tongued devil whispers,
“Stay down. You’re done here.
Nothing more to prove, nothing more to achieve.
Let discretion be the better part of valour,
Admit defeat and stay down.
The pain will be over sooner that way,
You can find rest.
You can be at peace.
This body of yours has taken enough,
Just stay down…”

Voices shouting.
Reality drifting back into focus.
Hands grabbing shoulders
Feet being put back on the floor
Cross back on shoulder.
Step by step
Along this brutal path
Each step
Nearer death

Christ Falls for the Second Time

Step by step
Along this brutal path
Each step
Nearer death
Mouths spitting
Soldiers kicking
Hatred flowing
Pain growing.
Head spinning
Eyes dimming
Floor rising
As cross crashes, crushing it carrier.
Blackness

A silver tongued devil speaks.
“Just one word from you and this is all over.
You’re gone, you’re elsewhere.
Angels assisting enlisted to carry their King.
These idiots don’t see you like I see you
They don’t know your true worth.
Your true value.
Acknowledge my wisdom and I will give you authority over them.
They will see their king, they will bow down and pay their dues.
You don’t need to walk another step.
There’s a better way than this, an easier way.
Just say the word and I can save you all this pain and anguish.
They’ll all get what they deserve, its only right.
You’ll be free, just bow down to me.”



Decision made.
Feet planted.
Pushing up out of blackness.
The pain brings the world back into sharp focus.
Crowd close in
Step by step
Along this brutal path
Each step
Nearer death. 

Christ Falls for the Third Time

Step by step
Along this brutal path
Each step
Nearer death
Blows rain down
From Soldiers keen to pick up the pace
A punch lands square in Jesus’ Face
Head swimming
Street spinning
Floor flying up
Head hitting stone
Cross crashing down, crushing its carrier
Blackness

The silver tongued devil speaks.
Is it really worth it?
All this suffering?
All this pain and anguish?
End it, call it off.
What are you really going to achieve?
Hours of agony, for what?
To prove some kind of love?
To tell people who don’t care that you love them about your love for them?
Just let them reject you.
They’re unworthy.
They’re unaware of who you really are.
If they can’t recognise you now, they never will.
I see it as it really is.
Just accept me.
Just recognise me.
And all this pain can be over.
You can be king over all of these pointless people.
You could be Lord in the temple
You could be the great King that David never was.
The King that David never could be, because David never had me behind him
David never had me backing him.
I would support you, if you would bend your knee.
I could end this torment, this torture.
I could raise you up and make them worship you.
We could turn the tables and you could torture them.

“ENOUGH”
The true king exercises his rights.
“BE SILENT”
Jesus speaks,
“Shema yisrael”
“‘Hear O Israel,
The Lord is our God, the Lord alone.
You will love the Lord your God
With all your heart
With all your Soul
With all your Strength’
Get behind me Satan
Your silver tongue weaves a web of lies
Your deceit is hollow and empty
You know NOTHING of the WORD of the LORD.
But I was with God in the beginning”
With that, the Serpent’s head is crushed.


Noise growing
Light spreading
Hands pushing
Knees scraping
Feet finding
Cross lifting
Step by step
Along this brutal path
Each step
Nearer death

Ash Wednesday

Remember that you are but dust, and to dust you shall return.
Turn away from your sin and be faithful to Christ.

Remember that you are but dust, and to dust you shall return.
Turn away from your sin and be faithful to Christ.

Remember that you are but dust, and to dust you shall return.

Turn away from your sin and be faithful to Christ.

Heads bowed in humility.

Reminded of their humanity.

Foreheads etched with the sign that will set them free.

Palms of hollow praise; burnt and pulverised to penitential paste.

Dust to crown children of dust.
To mark their future as children of Christ.

Dwelling with joy and grace

This is the product of a 24 hour retreat looking at Philippians led by the very marvelous Revd Christine Bull.  The links are to images are those she led us through, the wandering words are mine.

In the darkest prison,
The pen flashed on the page.
Like light through a prism,
These words illuminate.
Joy sparkles and shines,
Its cascading colours fill the dimly lit gloom,
Like cartwheeling figures dancing to a tune.
This poem of freedom birthed by a captive
His joy uncontained, unrestrained and untamed
Flows from the source of all things.

Against it, I pit my deepest dark fears
Questions unanswered
Barren, wilderness Walks
All burdened by logic which intellect taught.

But this freedom is grace
Not divorced from thought
But birthed by imaginations rich tapestry
Beyond observation comes freedom for me
Fragile thoughts weave, spin and warp
Like swirling bright stars in the firmament caught

As ephemeral reason flies out of reach
From them grows a still inner peace.
Here in the perichoretic dance am I found
My feet moving fast, barely touching the ground
I drink from the source that I find in this groove
As Christ my companion teaches me to move.
This gift freely given to use with the love
That he demonstrates to all high above
As nailed to a cross he bleeds for us
With history's manic panoramic view spread below
My Saviour shows grace given freely for all

So, bound in the freedom I find in this love
The joyful colours now descend like a dove
The Holy Spirit empowers bitter sweet truthes:
That light shines in darkness;
Our questions are themselves answers;
Joy is seen in sorrow's shadow;
And grace's freedom is a servant's yoke.