Friday, 27 November 2015


Well, there was a brown dog
That she took as God's blessing,
Who loved her doggedly.
But did the man
Who should have loved
See only the changes?
Her frame, like a shaken home;
Her mind, its components reordered;
Her speech fragmented;
Her love constant, womanly.
And over all
The Observer of men
Who loved her divinely.

If I shouldn't go on, tell me.

Thursday, 26 November 2015



Firstly her sensory perception
Betrayed her; he eyes' witness
Warped in her brain.
So the brain betrayed
The body, thwarting its need
For food.
Mirrors and scales, once
Friends and helps, joined
The betrayal.
Was it the brain or the blood
Enacted that betrayal,
Her stroke?
Those dependable legs
Betrayed her torso
Into collapse.
Faculties of speech
And thought, sight,
Betrayed her too.

But was that stalwart,
Her husband, seeing this shattering,
Truly her betrayer?
Or did she betray herself
By releasing the old demon

Who would stand to her?

Tuesday, 24 November 2015



Human joy
Will last for a little;
the sorrow
Goes on.
But if there are two the sorrow
Is share; the burden
Yet for some sorrow
To have a partner in it
Doubles the sorrow.
So she could be a crutch
To his illness; he a sling
In her bereavements.
But the hunger, the craving,
The childlessness meant
Two sorrows to them.

But there was an inkling
Of a Third to share with:
For she prayed.

Monday, 23 November 2015



But celebrate young love -
Love at first sight,
Love's young dream:
Ring out the clich├ęs.
But now
The rejected
was accepted;
The unwanted
was wanted.

For marriage was God's thought
Before it was ours.

Thursday, 19 November 2015



So there she – a teenage girl – was:
A boat loosed from its moorings,
Its timbers warped,
With a dangerous cargo.

For while a sister's
Responsibility gave a harbour:
A little repair, painting,
Sorting of the freight

Not enough: cast out
Into the world's oceans without
A known port.  (The Saviour
She did not yet know was too

Strangers provided
An unknown port – then
Commandeered; gay paint
And bunting could not disguise
The water-logging,
The volatile loading.

Still the lodestar
By which she had not yet learned
To navigate
Shone upon her.

Wednesday, 18 November 2015


Wounded by the failed abortion,
Of which she was yet unaware,
She grew in a nest wedged
Between a rotting branch
And a leaning ivy.

Yet a poor father is still
A father – even when distant
In a penitentiary; how good
That over all, secretly, watched
One she would know as Father.

The branch broke,
The ivy collapsed.  But soon
Grew to a new bole
On which to lean.  Slowly its
Branches spread over our heroine,
Its leafs shaded; it became home.

Serpents struck.  The green camouflage
Wilted before her.  The abuse
Left her soul gravid with
A cancer of evil cells
Replicating confusion.

That pathetic ivy granted
No shade, no hiding place,
Meagre refreshment.
It clung to the false tree.

The Observer of men
Observed.  He understood -
He waited – in divine wisdom.

Post more, or delete? - up to you. 

Friday, 13 November 2015



So she grew
In the normalcy of
The womb,
Cell by cell bifurcating
In nature and God's way,
The identical cells differentiating
To be seed of the growing organs.

What futures were possible
She did not know; what melding
Of human potential:
Peasant or poet,
Shepherd and soldier,
Tramp, priest,

Clung to the womb-wall, nearest
To Eden -
The serpent is at her! No
Subtlety of seduction, like Eve,
But the bitter chemical assault.

That bitter tide
Strives to detach her
From the womb-wall;
Blood that fed her
Becomes her enemy:
Will she hold?

Seaweed clings to the rock,
Depends on the rock
As the tide
Drives it.  Fronds
Swill in eddies, retreat,

She held.
Through her tenacity,
Through grace of God,
Our heroine held.

For was that womb her
Beginning?  Before time was
She had been the choice of
One she would come to know as
Father: and chosen in Christ.

What bitter chemicals had
Assaulted her? The alembic had held
A father's anger and selfishness,
Pinches of pride and desperation:
A large dose of female weakness.
So her birth delivered her to the care
Of a weak mother and selfish father
As a failed reject in the world
That rejected the Son of God.

Do I go on? Or is this already too much?

Thursday, 12 November 2015


Our Heavenly Father
Measures blessing and chastening
With Fatherly care.

Before the Father
Stands our High Priest and Patron
Pleading His own work.

The Spirit of God
Guides and comforts, and links us
With heaven’s glory.