Emmanuel.

Little Emmanuel, a prophet wrote

Of one who would become a Prince of Peace,

Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God,

A righteous king whose reign would never cease,

Of such wisdom and understanding

It would be as if God with us did dwell,

So that this Great One, born a babe like you,

Is described by the name you bear, Emmanuel.

Long after those prophecies, Jesus was born,

Lay in His cradle, needed His mother’s care,

Grew to be a child, developed a mind

And character so unsurpassably fair

That when He spoke it seemed like God’s own words.

The outcasts and needy were healed and blessed,

And His power, words and deeds declared

He was the Great Emmanuel, “God with us”.

Millennia later, little Emmanuel,

Needing your parents’ nurture and care,

You, dependent too, in your cradle lie,

Daily growing more contented and fair.

I wish for you not ease, wealth or fame

But that, Emmanuel, you so grow in mind

That in judgment you will be wise and just

And in disposition gentle and kind.

Emmanuel, grab hold of this miracle, life.

Grow, be happy, a sweet and lovely boy,

Dispensing sunshine all around,

Touching everyone you love with joy;

And when the great Emmanuel returns,

A bright light claiming His rightful throne,

Ruling with justice and equity for all,

May he see in you one of His very own.

Captain Baby Man

For my grandson, Max Wolfe Creighton, when he was eight weeks old.

                                                  I

Captain Baby Man, you wave your little arms,

You smile and laugh, you make sweet sounds.

The circle of your world is beginning to grow

Out beyond mother’s breast and the warmth of touch.

Changes are coming. A wider world is registering

In your brain. This whole wonderful miracle

Is now yours to have and ours to share:

The growth that time, love and hardship brings;

Your mind for others to nurture and for you to grow;

The entire, beautiful, rich complexity of life;

 Bird song, love, forest light, tears, water’s sparkle, joy and grief-

O grasp it, hold it tight, drink it deep,

Not recklessly, but richly, deeply, wonderfully,

Dear, sweet, little Captain Baby Man.

                                   II.

Captain Baby Man, rise on imagination’s wings

High above dull, mundane, fettered things;

Roll, glide and play in realms of pure joy,

Touch hearts, bring happiness, be a wonderful boy;

Let dullness and stupidity be things you abhor

As, Captain Baby Man, you rise, glide and soar.

Haiku on Mother and Child at Piano.

Light spills through the room

Where Prue sits at piano,

Eleanor on lap.

As the fingers touch

In light skilful patterns

Chords fluidly flow.

The sweet sound is as

Liquid, clear and delicate

As running water.

The baby gurgles

Her new, innocent delight

And waves her small arms.

What greater beauty

Than Mother, baby, music

In this harmony.

I am amongst the richest of men

Tim, Cathy, Dan and Ben- all Ebenezer Public School students, 1986

For my children –Daniel, Catherine, Benjamin and Timothy- and for my wife, Diana, the source of all my wealth.

There once was a time when I was poor,

When my house was dim and empty,

When wind rattled through my empty vaults

With a bleak insistent constancy.

But I am amongst the richest of men,

My vault has wealth untold,

My treasury is full of sparkling things

And I dwell in a palace of gold.

My wealth is based on four unique pillars,

From one quarry cut but standing discretely,

And now I declare that I love each one

Completely, fervently and equally.

Did I once fear that this wealth must leave

And the cold, empty wind could blow again?

No! Time has wrought the hoped-for change;

This wealth -my children-  have become my friends.

For my wealth is not in things that rust,

Or moth can corrupt, or thief can steal,

For I am rich in care, hope and love,

In all the deep things the heart can feel.

So I care little for success or fame,

Or for any trinkets for which men lust.

Compared to the things in which I am rich

They are not much more than worthless dust.

So I am amongst the richest of men,

My vault has wealth untold,

My treasury is full of sparkling things

And I dwell in a palace of gold.

Ben, Cathy, Dan and Tim, I think around 2000

Cords

For Brenda Lynette Creighton, born 1919.

When I was just mere growing cells-

Before I breathed on the earth-

A bonded cord sustained my life

In those months before my birth.

And when I, a naughty, restless child

Could every fence and barrier climb,

In care and love you took a cord

And tethered me safely to a line.

Then when as a boy in deep delight

I through swamp and bush would roam

There was an unbroken, invisible cord

That drew me safely home.

Later there were challenging times

When waves crashed hard and I almost drowned.

You were a rock, a light, a cord

To draw me safely to solid ground.

Time cuts all early dependant cords

But others grow that cannot be broken,

Spun by faith, time and maturing mind,

By laughter, tears, and love unspoken.

So it is with my mother and me,

Where cords of flesh were cut at birth

But invisible cords of faith still grow

Transcending this sentient life on earth. 

Wake up, little man

For my daughter Catherine and her son, Jet, when he was about 20 months.

Wake up, little man, breathe the morning air,

Don your climbing gear, there’s exploring to be done,

Mountains to scale and great treasure to be won.

That pile of dirt you can see in the distance there

Is Everest’s foothill which you can easily climb,

That narrow gap between the post and gate

Is where a crevice does painfully wind.

But uh oh, today the summit’s fence will have to wait

For the Sherpa is coming to take you away,

Scold and say it’s too dangerous to climb today.

Later there are prizes to be won if you dare,

If you can reach your hand up, open the shed door,

Check if it’s empty, trot quickly over the floor,

Then scurry off up the hill without a care.

Up there are riches and wealth beyond measure,

Your Nanna’s fridge filled with things so sweet to eat,

But just as you reach out your hand to take your treasure

That Sherpa’s there kissing, murmuring about sleep,

Saying it’s late, your teeth are clean, it’s time for bed,

Promising tomorrow to lock the doors to the shed.

So snuggle in, little man, she’s wrapping you up tight,

Giving Elly the Elephant for holding in your arm,

For playing Mozart’s “Lullaby” to sooth and charm,

For keeping you company through all the dark night.

O little man, your eyes get heavy and you slowly blink,

Your breathing gets quiet and you look soft and cuddly.

She looks in on you and you can almost hear her think

“He’s so cute when he’s sleeping; he’s really, really lovely”,

But we think, little man, that for all of your dream time

You’re finding sweet treasures and high mountains to climb.

4^th August, 2011, for Jet, when he was about 20 months.

Six Haiku for Bella

For my grand-daughter, Bella, when she was about three.

Prue's photo of Bella at Wilberforce, 2010.

In many little

Inconsequential moments

I feel life’s rich joy.

This sweet little girl

Kneeling in the strawberries,

Sunshine in her hair.

“I can do it Pa.”

The little hand takes the plant

And parts the rich earth.

She gathers up snails

Lost in a magical world,

Where nothing else is.

She snuggles in close.

Her arms encircle my neck.

I feel her eyes shine.

Ten thousand thousand

Small, miraculous moments

Fill my heart with joy.

Eleanor's Song

For Eleanor Miette, 

Born 22 June, 2011.

May you, dear child of the winter solstice,

Born on this clear blue winter’s day,

Have a heart so warm and loving

That it blows all the chills away.

May you, dear child of this shortest day

Grow to be so joyously bright

That in your dear sweet presence

All bask in warm, clear morning light.

May you, little babe of Tim and Prue

Bring them such deep sense of pleasure

That through all life’s frost and cold

They are filled and warmed beyond all measure.

And may you, little babe, little girl,

You precious gift from God above,

Forever dwell in that pure warmth of faith,

Snug in the arms of God’s great love.

Tim with Eleanor.

Prue and Eleanor, aged 10 weeks