Tuesday, 30 July 2013

Rainfall Come Up

I kneeled and said to God,
"It is you, Lord,
with your head in the clouds,
without your feet on the ground.
How could I believe?".

He replied to me so kindly,
"It is you, Son,
taking things only as they seem
without daring to dream.
Have I reason to deceive?".

I considered his words,
with guilt in my heart
for I knew that all of my sins
could not even begin
to cancel true love that he holds.

And he considered such thoughts,
with enlightened omniscience
and as the clouds parted
a heavy rainfall started
seeming like a punishment to most.

But yet I felt his warmth within each drop
and my eyes were opened wide.
I took the Lord's hand
just as he planned
and he led me into the light.

And so I became the night.

Wednesday, 24 July 2013

J. Hill

Soft spiralling sways
to her heather trodden ways
in lilac velvet mist
with lips tangerine kissed.

Free feather float
to retreats; rural and remote
where we let dewy soles slide
and help heavy heads hide.

At her sure soaring summit
comes the subsequent plummet,
and as we reach her narcotizing peak
we grow so dependently weak...

Sunday, 21 July 2013

Gone but Still There

Familiar scents from childhoods spent
in the back seat of my parents' Citroën.
The bakery's sweet rise of odour to the skies
to be served up to the birds in the cloud kitchen.

Familiar sounds from childhoods found
in the trees behind Pleckgate field.
The mower's chug soundtracks the den we've dug
as we keep its careless treasures concealed.

Familiar sights from childhood nights,
as my legs are jelly and my eyes are melted ice-cream
from a swift BMX pedal and an hour on Medal
before I write up a list for next Haloween's scheme.

These familiar thoughts from my childhood taught
me that through time most things in life will stay.
As we begin to grow old, these memories we hold
will take plenty of wear before they fray.

Sunday Morning Prayer

Bags on my floor;
did I really cause this mess?
Bags on my eyes;
I know the answer's yes.
Change on my desk;
rolled-up notes all but spent.
Change on my mind;
Lord, is it too late to repent?


Oh melody, remember me
when I am old and fail
Oh melody, I'll remember she
who stayed when hearing failed.

She twists and turns to the tune,
my eyes fixed on her hips.
I follow closely with careful croon,
my mouth matched to her lips.

Friday, 12 July 2013

The Heart's Purse-Strings

Hard earned feelings are often spent far too swiftly
on those products of desire they don't really need,
and before the month ends, they're scraping the barrel
for someone to buy back just a bite of their greed.

And then there's those dithering, fastidious souls
who let their fortunes amass in their airtight heart,
but for all that it holds, the heart weighs too heavy
and the seams that hold it compressed will fall apart.

So how best to spend those soft somethings in your mind
when stringent savings rot and capricious spendings break?
I will keep the purse-strings of my heart tightly sealed
'til there's an investment on future's profit to make.

Thursday, 4 July 2013

Nature's School

Crayola clouds on blank canvas skies,
papier-mâché sun with dandelion dye.
A sandpit of stars when it reaches night,
milk on the carpet as it becomes light.

We learn to join up the leaves to the trees,
with sun-dotted Is and fruit-crossed Ts.
I follow the flow of the river with you
and there we will learn one and one must make two.

The birds compose their favourite nursery rhymes,
as we're told these are the best of our times.
Nature is a school where we can always learn and play,
and I still feel such youth at the start of each day...