Love {arrived}

van-gogh-nativity.jpgThe thing is …

No that won’t work

 

Joe, Joey, my beautiful man

God says I’m pregnant

O Lord give me the words

 

I get it, the whole angel thing

I really do -but Joseph

 

Lord he’s a chippy not a theologian

How is he going to understand?

 

~~

Mary, my Mary my sweet angel girl

She is still sweet

 

The angel dude he visited me too

Explained it all so even I could take it in.

We are having a baby… Whoo hoo.

 

~~

two thousand years of literal and liberal,

of conservative and radical

 

there are some who believe the incarnation

and there are some that doubt

just as some scoff at creation

 

and here’s their deal – the argument they say

Mary lied to cover an indiscretion

 

How could the Messiah be born

In such a lowly way

To a peasant girl in Bethlehem

 

~~

Me – I’m all in, believe the whole thing

Creation, Fall, Rebellion, Redemption

 

And the best bit, as in any story

In the last few paragraphs …

Of a city, a hill and no more sorrow.

Merry-go-round

The plastered smile grins

Phoney, dancing & prancing

Up and down on a pole

Happy battle waltzes tinge the air

As tourists strolls along the prom

 

The painted faces on the horses never change

Forever caught in mid neigh delight

I don’t know what’s real anymore

The duality of seaside living

Stops the truth from grasping hold.

 

Were you cheating or is that a dream?

Held in falsetto choir ringing in my ears

The gulls take their strategic places

Atop signage and the quaint street lamps

Ready to swoop and steal pastries

From unsuspecting folk below.

 

Remember when you said you loved me

That we would never part

Remember all those promises

We made so long ago.

 

I sit watching the children on the carousel

And wonder is that where I’m at.

Living in a goldfish bowl

Each hint, lie trick

As if it was the first –

Never experienced before.

 

Seeing the doctor didn’t help

Him being your mate, I s’pose

The tablets zonked me out

Forgetting even my name

 

I should be able to stand tall

Married to the town mayor and all

And yet I feel equine sympathy

For the plaster caricatures

With my face plastered in pancake

I vacuously grin

With all the other wives

Each time we banquet together.

 

At least the horses have a plan

To go up and down

And round and round

I have no blueprint for my life

Your epitaph should read:

Paul Mason, duplicitous mayor,

Lying husband, philanderer, cheat

Mine will read – FOOL.

GrandCarousel2

 

Band Practice

The provocation of friendship

Is a hard, tough do

But a necessary accounting

Of my life in You

 

Abounding grace and mercy

In our meeting of the heart

Love surrounds and ne’er is fleeting

When all are anchored only in You

 

So we all band together

And share our woes and gains

We meet for God’ glory only

And win more souls for You.

band.jpg

coming/going

Life is the pits

Snake snarls and spits

Ice cold invade mitts

My heart can’t take more hits

 

You called out – COME

I heard little hum

Unable for sum

I walking through gum

 

You shared your LOVE

I turned: Yes! shuv!

It was too tough

Grace, mercy from above

 

The fire burned bright

But couldn’t see light

Without any might

I jumped, leapt – with no sight

 

Thank you for SAVE

Took me from cave

Old life gone – raze

New life – rolling in grace

 

You called out – GO

Close to my foe

I cried out – No

My heart brimfull – woe

 

You said – remember

You said – don’t forget

You ask again – GO

Letting go of ego

{I say yes}

girl.jpg

Cleave

When you’re right down in it

You can see no way out

You can see only dark

Inky blackness seeping through

 

When you’re in the middle

Of a muggy treacle puddle

Hanging onto some hope

Is all you can manage

 

My fingernails cling to

A crumbling despair filled goo

I forget who I am

And who I belong to

 

He calls out – REMEMBER

Lean back, and hold on

Cling to me, precious daughter,

Cling to me.

Treacle

Treacle {walking}

Treacle

I want to blast the horn

And bang timbrel and drum

I want to blow the trumpet

To shout Jesus is Lord in my life

 

Inside, in my heart, I can dance

Proclaiming from the rooftops

Shouting out with joy

Resounding through the air

 

And I am a believer

I know that it is His chest I lean back on

It is His arms around me in protection

It is Him that strokes my hair

 

But I am stuck

Stuck in this mud filled swamp

Some days I can barely breath

Let alone shout.

 

Just like the psalmist of old

I cry out in the darkness

I plead for this distortion to leave

Over and over I cry out His name

 

I see the people around me

With their bubbly, friendly smiles

And yet I can’t connect

A treacle barrier persists

 

One day I shall jump up

I shall leap in praise of the Lord

But today I thank God He is with me

Keeping me safe and sound

 

I am being stretched but not shattered

There is a strain on my heart as I fumble

In the dark to move to His rhythm

I am sitting in the middle of a storm

 

I have no ship, no boat

Not even a rudder

I am tossed around with the waves

But I surrender all to Him who knows best

 

Today I choose to live, to live in Christ

Today I choose to sit in this mire

Until He lifts me up, lifts me out

And places me once more on the solid rock.

…wrestling in prayer for you, that you may stand firm in all the will of God, mature and fully assured. — Colossians 4:12

 

avoiding the cup

I just couldn’t pretend

that all was well

“tickety boo”

and I avoided the cup

I wanted to scream and shout

and jump up and down

My prayer life suddenly

precisely vile and lent

thank God he is bigger

than any self pitying

tantrum I could raise.

I thank God that he is bigger

in love for me than I

deserve.

I thank God for the guy

and for flick on the back of my head.

I thank God and crawl

to turn over the page

 

granny’s garden

daffodils

the dying daffodils reminded me

of a long ago tended garden.

Each flower had a place

Reds on the left and yellow to the right

 

Granny pulled their heads off

and stomped on each stalk

frenetically each day she roamed

the rows of yellow daffodils

 

grandad could kill nothing,

not even a slug so he slunk

behind and gathered the leaves

tying them all together

with ribbons of concern

weeping as the willow by the pond.

 

I used to think granny hated

like hated every thing

but I think she was broken hearted

for the man she knew before

 

Grandad’s heart was aching

for all the men he’d known

who laid down their lives

in the war to end all wars

 

Granny played a lot of things

taking the role of winner

She hated the name granny

Preferring formal Grandmama

 

But I loved this statue of

ice cold tendrils

I was never scared like the others

She brought fear to every one

But I heard her pray once

For me and R and J

And for the two H’s in her life.

 

Two broken hearted people

Living in a box

Unable to talk or even to listen

Forever bound in silence

On reflection of the pond’s surface

Of a childhood long ago

The only way they could converse

Was having red on the left

And dying daffs on the right.

train of thought

In olden times when trains were slower

a plume of smoke filled the air

wheels turned at a rate of iambic pent.. meter

and poets sat in carriages pipe or pen in hand

rhythmic duh dums filled the body helping poetic charge

and epic tomes of railway journeys

created whilst travelling the land

 

try writing on today’s trains with the warp speed

finding a table facing premium forward aft

full of beer cans and half eaten buns

children encouraged instead of left at home

youths so black in clothes and spirit

 

the man behind crunching thru salted crisps

the young boy playing loud war games with his shadow

the girl in front her cleavage    beguiling

is the closest to any meter you’ll find

no there will be no bestseller written today