Tag Archives: night

Monday Poem- “Out of the boat 2”

Out of the boat 2

If the world was made of water
And our home the ocean deep,
Then would you say hello to me
If you past me down the street?
Would you still let me just float by
And not really go that deep?
If my life was up against the tide
Would we ever really meet?

But our lives are not designed that way
So why have we still not met?
You float on by with watery eyes
As though you’re swimming past a net.
You look scared, you’re hooked and snared,
I want to help, I’m not a threat.
I’ll cut your line and you’ll cut mine
If we can only just connect.

We’re not schools of fools, we’re people!
So don’t clam up, lets end
Being merely strangers
And let’s hook up and be friends.

Monday Poem- “Origin or sin”

Origin or sin

“Let there be something”
Said no one to nothing
But no sound was found-
There were no words to be heard,
Or ears to hear
Or speaking lips
Or a medium which
Sound could exist.
Nothing.
No thing.
Not a thing,
But then it exploded.
A likely story
That although boring
Helps us sleep at night.

Matter splattered,
Protons, atoms,
Suddenly happened
And arranged themselves in order.
Primal chaos reigned
And then became
More complex
But I confess
That it’s insane for me
To just believe
A theory as fact-
The big bang of the gaps
Doesn’t tell me crap.

Monday Poem: “Song of youth regained”

Song of youth regained

The child within was released again tonight
By a somewhat recognizable sound.
The familiar melody paved way to
Unfettered memory free that once was bound,
Unleashed the beast
Releasing sheets of heat
And light from yonder moon.
Light and laughter grew
And sang along in tune to beats
Of unsheathed imagination,
Offering subtle indications
Of beauty untold and unearthed gold.
The child then grew.
That child is you.
Don’t send them to their room.

Monday Poem- “Jungle Man”

Jungle Man

In the jungle
One day I met a man
Who had obviously been there more than I
He informed me
That looks are deceiving
That he had woken up that morning for a walk
So I asked him
How he came to walk here
He took a wrong turn in the desert where he slept

My jungle friend
How I would love to help
But I too am stranded in this twisted wild place
My jungle friend
He helped me see myself
As I looked into his empty twisted wild face

There is no substitute for time alone in silence
No substitute for the rivers
Flowing with rhythm (controlled but free)
There is no substitute for the peace of violence
No substitute for this refining time with me

In the city
One day I met a man
Who looked rather like the man I met before
I informed him
Of my jungle dreaming
And of the ugly twisted face that I’d just saw
He asked me for a light
And he asked me for a fight
So I said that I don’t smoke
and that I’m not the fighting sort of bloke
While he looked at me with beady eyes
With greedy eyes
And needy cries
So he looked at me with beady eyes
And then he saw himself

A broken man
Unavailable for more
Incapable of war
But unstable like before
Not like the jungle man I saw
Not like the me I am before the dawn

Monday Poem – “Alive to dead to having life”

Alive to dead to having life

I shivered
Then quivered
Then ummmed and ahhhed,
I couldn’t find a way to start,
I didn’t have the words to say
But like a child asked something anyway-
“How do I remember this moment?
Lord, how do I own it?
Good sir, I want to know it-
How do I make life a friend, not an opponent?”

He replied
“My little child-
Death to pride,
Death to lies,
And death to self!
This moment’s ripples will be felt
Through all the generations-
Beyond all imagination
But you have to die first (death to self).
This moment’s offspring will be plentiful
But first you have to die.
You see,
A child must die to silly things
And rise to the changes happening,
Then a bachelor dies on his wedding night,
To become a husband to his wife.
Then as a husband put himself away
And serve his queen both night and day.
Each and every sacrifice
Is a rite of passage ordained by Christ.
And that is how to love your life
To give up your ‘needs’, your ‘wants’ and ‘rights’”

I wanted to cry,
My Lord said I had to die?
I wanted to argue, crow and fight
But of course I could see my Lord was right
And besides, He had died the first death for me
When His naked Son lay on that tree.
He has obliterated my debt,
He has died that first death.
He has taken me into Him, now I am blessed!
He has laid my arguments to rest.
And may they rest in pieces on the floor,
May this moment last forever more.
From boy to man to child,
From alive to dead to having life.
From the lowest lows to highest heights.
From dying to self to living for Christ.

Monday Poem- “Patchwork Quilt”

Patchwork Quilt

Not like clockwork but like patchwork
The old man pulls together
His last remaining
And fastly draining days.
Each stitch he’s sewing
Is quickly slowing
His rhythm and timing
But he keeps on stitching
(Keeps on shining)
Because he knows he ain’t got long
And who wants a tightly-wound-up old clock?
Isn’t that boring
Compared to this quilt?
Isn’t his story,
Patched from scraps that he’s been dealt,
Still imploring
An exchange of knowledge
For what can be experienced and felt?

So this old man
Will add patches
Thread by thread
By thread by thread
Until the clock runs out
And this patchwork-man is dead,
But the life he lives will keep going
Long after he stops sewing
Because the patchwork quilt gives warmth to all who know him.

Monday poem “Sneaky” (or “Unheard, unseen”)

Sneaky (or “Unheard, unseen”)

She couldn’t see or hear
When Death was near,
He just showed up
Then disappeared
With friends of hers
Each time he came.
Some left in peace,
Some left in pain,
Others asked for life
To intervene-
To stir things up
And cause a scene
But Death was nasty,
Mad and mean
And showed up often
Unheard but keen.