A secret rose
On Andalusian moss
How warm your winds that greet us
A secret rose
Born of Dartmoor’s frost
How strong the words which beat us
Oh such and such a secret rose
Worn with moss, and hoarse with frost
Carried on the old cold winds to defeat us
Oh much of a muchness of a secret rose
Sworn upon by God, and all others
To first unsettle us, then to unseat us
Tuesday, 12 November 2019
Monday, 11 November 2019
The New
The organ tuners have departed for lunch
Their temporary apparatus has been moved
To a place out of congregational sight
I wonder at how quiet the new chapel might be
And, now knowing of the old chapel
I wonder why it was built at all
Of course I favour the new
The new is my favourite place
Its stained glass, philosophically, embodies my friend
I go there for peace, and silence
Whereas I sit here for silence, and peace
They are so similar, yet somehow not alike at all
Their temporary apparatus has been moved
To a place out of congregational sight
I wonder at how quiet the new chapel might be
And, now knowing of the old chapel
I wonder why it was built at all
Of course I favour the new
The new is my favourite place
Its stained glass, philosophically, embodies my friend
I go there for peace, and silence
Whereas I sit here for silence, and peace
They are so similar, yet somehow not alike at all
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Sunday, 10 November 2019
Guide
His intonation amuses me
He appears to encourage excitement
Yet what he hears is laughter
He tries to create a sombre mood
Yet today’s crowds are jovial
Will he return home
To bathe in disappointment
Or will his obvious stoicism
Lead him to say
Ah well, tomorrow is another day
He appears to encourage excitement
Yet what he hears is laughter
He tries to create a sombre mood
Yet today’s crowds are jovial
Will he return home
To bathe in disappointment
Or will his obvious stoicism
Lead him to say
Ah well, tomorrow is another day
|
| Available at Amazon |
Saturday, 9 November 2019
Tuning
There is no earthly, nor heavenly reason
Why I should see her
Yet my faith, my own faith, it is unimpeachable
There is no time like this real time
That I would not take to be there
Where my faith, in my own faith, remains reachable
There is no silence such as the long continued silence
So so rich to engage with, so so harsh to suffer
Yet my faith in my own faith, is edifyingly agreeable
Why I should see her
Yet my faith, my own faith, it is unimpeachable
There is no time like this real time
That I would not take to be there
Where my faith, in my own faith, remains reachable
There is no silence such as the long continued silence
So so rich to engage with, so so harsh to suffer
Yet my faith in my own faith, is edifyingly agreeable
Friday, 8 November 2019
Backrest
I sat in wait for your arrival
Yet knew my wait was in vain
But I am the stain which shouts out: survival
For it was in the waiting whence you came
I felt the first spots of the drizzle
As the bird's whistle was almost silenced
Only the lonesome gull called out
Only the autumn gardeners heard my shout
Yet knew my wait was in vain
But I am the stain which shouts out: survival
For it was in the waiting whence you came
I felt the first spots of the drizzle
As the bird's whistle was almost silenced
Only the lonesome gull called out
Only the autumn gardeners heard my shout
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