Sunday, 30 October 2011

Higher Ground

I packed my bags, said my goodbyes
And struggled up to higher ground,
Praying that in the clear mountain air
Truth and clarity could be found;
Reasoned that although the way was weary
And each ridge a struggle to attain,
Without the effort and the work
There never could be truth to gain.
So when I gained the summit’s height
And with eagle eye looked way down
On a little world of pettiness and strife
I felt disdain for those on lower ground.
Then I knew the truth that the blight of pride
Can in those heights with great ease reside.

The Hornet’s Nest.

I plunged my stick into the hornet’s nest
And then was surprised to see
That they with great anger emerged
And some of them actually stung me.

Then some of them stung my friends
And some of them my neighbour too;
Then they proceeded to sting my family
And of my enemies quite a few.

And though I might be slow of wit
And prone to many foolish acts
I decided that to meddle and interfere
Can be both painful and incredibly rash.

It’s like grabbing an angry dog by both ears,
You must eventually let the beast go
And the consequences can be nasty indeed
And tear at much more than just ego.

So by my swollen eyes and throbbing nose
I solemnly declare not to interfere
And where hornets and sticks are concerned
I resolve to stay a long way clear.

For hornets are nasty stinging things
And can distribute pain all around;
Sticks are not for wielding or poking
And are harmless when left on the ground.

Sunday, 23 October 2011


In memory of Joy Bevan.

Her eyes were large and grey,
Her voice was soft and low,
Her mind entirely beautiful,
With a gentle inner glow.

Some celebrate great beauty,
Great power, wealth or fame;
I sing for her who had none of these
But was Joy in more than name.

Great were the gifts she gave
And received most gratefully,
More especially now that hindsight
Has given me eyes that can see.

She was my leader and my guide
Through wonderful realms of gold,
And with a kindly, skilful hand
She let those treasures unfold.

She helped me to love the realm itself,
It was so rich with jewels,
And so the journey and not its end
Became my lifelong rule.

The journey on which she set me
Was beyond all place and time,
Deep, powerful, beautiful and sad,
The complex journey of the mind.

So now for one who seemed to live
A life of quiet dedication,
I raise my voice of praise
In sad, posthumous recognition.

And thank her for her example,
Those values deep and fine,
That showed the prize is in the running
And not the finishing line.

Monday, 17 October 2011

Life is a Breath, a Vapour

Life is a breath, a vapour
A dew drop before the rising sun,
A fleeting appearing of the mist,
Disappearing before it has hardly begun.

For a moment in the shining sun
The refracting light will sparkle and dance;
Then before the rising heat
It disappears into the sky’s expanse.

So delicate, so transient, so brief,
So miraculous is this moment of life,
But so wasted, so undervalued, so spoilt
By division, argument, war and strife.

O seek God with all your heart and mind,
You momentarily living legions of men,
For He has the desire and the great power
From death to make you rise again.

Not to this life of struggle and pain
Powered by mere transient breath,
But to a life filled with the spirit of God,
Set free from the cruel hand of Death.

For God will wipe all tears from eyes,
And make sorrow and sighing flee away;
When in His love and in His power
The resurrected blessed will forever stay.

Is this not worth a moment’s thought
As we hurry through this fleeting day,
That we could dwell on this fair earth
Through eternity’s changed and endless day.