The Rock

This poem is dedicated to my aunt Barbara whom we loved and revered. My mother who is Barbara's sister called her the rock of the family.

Lighthouse on the rock

The Rock

The seas may rage and the winds may blow,
The seasons may come and the seasons may go,
But the rock stands steadfast, in the wind and the rain and the snow,
While ages to history pass, in untimely flow.

Upon the rock the lighthouse stands, with its beacon flashing light,
Guiding storm tossed ships to sanctuary, in the dead of angry night,
Lifting the hearts of despairing souls, who had lost all hope,
At the end of their tether, unable to cope.

Though the sands may shift and the tides may ebb and flow,
The rock stands steadfast in the wind and the rain and the snow,
Watching as ships sail upon prevailing tides of fashion,
Drifting rudderless, in empty oceans of shallow passion.

Oh I thank God, for the lighthouse that stands upon the rock,
Ageless, timeless, unaware of the clock.
Calling back lost souls from the sea’s deafening roar,
To the sweet sound of footsteps, upon the pebbled shore.

------------------------

We thank God for Barbara, who in foul weather or fair, was always there, for all of us. May the lighthouse beacon, now beckon her, to rest in peace upon a tranquil shore.

When

When the world around you has gone mad,
When you no longer recognise the good from the bad,
When right becomes wrong and wrong becomes right,
When we drink not to laugh but the courage to fight,
When instead of a smile we simply stare,
When we throw out the elderly from their homes of care,
When we spy every move through a camera’s lens,
When we lock every door and homes become dens,
When image is all and substance a sin,
When truth is lost to deceit and spin,
When no one cares and no one votes,
When we burn our bridges and sink our boats,
When we sell our heritage down the drain,
When all that matters is profit and gain,
When every day brings trouble and strife,
What is the point of living a life?

True Love

True love sees through outer skin,
To inner depths, hidden within.
Below earth like precious coal,
Is love buried deep in the soul.

True love lights a darkened soul,
Like flickering flames upon the coal,
Shinning light on buried treasure,
Giving warmth without measure.

Can You Imagine?

Can you imagine,
The screams of a mother on a train,
Separated from her child calling her name,
Herded away and never seen again,
Her child, still screaming out her name?

Can you imagine,
Your husband shot dead,
A pool of blood by the bed,
Your brother before you slain,
A babe bayoneted again and again,
His mother calling out his name,
Another act of unspeakable shame?

Can you imagine,
The pain of a daughter's rape,
Her pleas for mercy as she tries to escape,
Fighting for her honour but all in vain,
Her childhood lost in lust and pain,
Her father calling out her name,
One more act of unspeakable shame?

How can we possibly understand,
Those of us who live in this land,
Where justice reigns and men are free,
Where hunger never touches thee?
No fear have we of the tyrant's hand,
For he lives far away from England.

Apathy

Apathy has no voice. Apathy makes no noise. It passes unheard, unheeded and unheralded. Apathy is the enemy of democracy and the meat and drink of dictators. It feeds the greedy and the corrupt. It disempowers the people. It encourages arrogance and disregard in the powerful. It allows them to ensconce themselves in ivory towers and turn a blind eye upon the world outside. Apathy is the succumbing of one's will to the bidding of others. Apathy is the surrender of control over destiny.

Ideas

Flowing streams of illuminated imagination,
Sparks of genius igniting thoughtful speculation,
Ideas riding upon the crests of crashing waves,
Floundering upon the rocks and filling empty caves.

From the recesses of a curiously empty mind,
Ideas ebb and flow of every conceivable kind,
As though conjured up by a mystical magician,
They come and go, of their own volition.

Surreal Dream

Surreal




I dreamed the strangest dream,
A surreal dream.
I dreamt that time had all but run it’s course.
With pitiless intent and bewildering pace,
Time closed in upon people and space.
In swirling mists of receding light,
People disappeared without trace.
No sound or protest could I hear,
Nor stars or galaxies see,
I stood and watched in dreadful fear,
As time and space closed in on me,
And all that was left was a small dim light,
Like a torch beam shinning,
Faintly, on a cold foggy night.

As the last few souls melted into darkness,
A few shadowy figures, still I could see,
Floating in the void of zero gravity.
And in the starkness of this reality,
I knew my family and me,
Were destined soon to disappear,
Without trace,
Without grace,
As though we were never here,
Had never been,
Never loved,
Never seen,
Never known anything,
No time past or present,
No future to await,
No line curved nor line straight,
No beginning,
No end,
No time in between.
No eternity,
Nothing before,
Nothing anymore!

And in my dream,
In terror struck,
I searched the labyrinths of my mind,
Racing against receding time,
Desperate to find the elusive key,
A bargain with God to make
That he would not us forsake
But bring back temporarily,
Fading time,
In space and harmony.
Then came strangely an answer,
Though not one I understood.
A price we must pay,
God seemed to say.
For every new tomorrow,
We must give one yesterday,
Till all our yesterdays are no more.
And when that day has come at last,
The chimes of time,
Will come to pass.

What choice was there to make?
This bargain I did quickly take.
Suddenly,
The closing darkness began to recede,
The past to the present returned,
The future to present,
Destined history to become.
Everything in its place,
Everything in its time,
Then came the dawn,
Thank God,
And the light of early morn.
We are!
We were!
And still shall be,
Temporarily!


Postscript:

Then tonight, a learned man,
On television said,
The sun is halfway through its life.
In five billion years,
The sun will be dead.
A thought cut me like a knife,
One new day,
For every yesterday!
One new year,
For every yesteryear,

The Butterfly

Butterfly

A butterfly flutters its wings,
A hurricane stirs.
In the deep blue yonder,
Clouds churn in menacing swirls.
The sleeping winds howl,
At being disturbed,
From peaceful slumber,
By an emperor perturbed,
The darkening storm opens a solitary eye,
Better to see the path of havoc from the sky,
As upon the land,
Its revenge it takes,
And in tempestuous anger,
All pity forsakes.

Beware my friends,
It is not there the story ends.
When you stir a grain of sand,
You alter forever, the lie of the land,
As when a butterfly, flutters its wings,
And the fluted air whistles and sings,
In rising concerto far beyond,
The rippling water of a little pond.

Postscript:
Would that my breath could stir the wind and blow away the clouds!

Future Been

The future has been!
Tell me what have you seen?
Have you seen the beginning as well as the end?
Were you once my enemy, are you now my friend?
Did we fight a thousand wars just to live in peace?
Did you fly with an eagle, did you dance with the geese?
Have you seen the beginning and the journey's end?
Do you know what awaits you around the next bend?
If it is not the future then where have we been?
If it is not the future what have we seen?


Time

Circle of Water

Victoria Falls

Seas blue to waters grey,
Skies clear to rainy day.

On a starry night glowing,
With a gentle breeze blowing,
Wispy trails of cirrus, materialise,
And invade the clear transluscent skies.

From gentle stirrings in a cup of tea,
And calm trade winds on a quiet blue sea,
Frail cirrus to meancing cumulus gives way,
Hiding the sunshine in tumultuous clouds of grey.

From snow capped mountains to the distant sea,
The rivers of life evaporate silently,
And return their muddy waters perpetually,
To timeless oceans and the churning sea.

Seas blue to waters grey,
Skies clear to rainy day.

Jehova'a Map

Home

In Jehova’s map each road is signed
You should study it well,
Otherwise t'is the Devil's Den you'll find,
On the roads to Hell.
There are many roads to many places,
In Jehova's map you'll find,
Many familiar faces,
Upon Satan's roads entwined.

Avoid the road to Purgatory,
Via Avarice and Greed,
Through to Bigotry
A road you should heed.
Beyond lies Lust,
Through the Valley of Sin,
Home of the unjust,
Don't go in.

Better you take the highway,
That leads through the Valley Of Peace,
Than the low way,
To the gambling dens of Fleece
Follow the signs to Happiness,
And the City of Love,
Not the road to Emptiness,
Choose the road above.

I have travelled to Satan’s cave,
But found no meaning there,
No feeling I should save,
That I would want to share,
To touch my heart and mind,
Or answer heartfelt prayer.
Be not misled by the Devil’s kind.
Stay away from Satan’s lair.

Avoid the motorways to Hate,
And the Fields of Destruction.
Take the road to Pearly Gate,
Where Hope is under construction.
Remember if you happen to stray,
By Satan’s roads you are not bound.
You can always turn and walk away,
And Evil walk around.

Pass the junction to Temptation,
For no sake but your own.
Choose carefully your destination,
On Jehova’s map all shown.
Make the wrong connection,
And you’ll miss the Pearly Gates,
That lead to Resurrection,
And who knows what other fates.

Postscript:

Every possible destiny is laid out for us on the great celestial map of life. The first path we travel is that which our parents are already on when we are born and on which we remain until such time as we are mentally and physically able to make independent choices.

However, control over our own destiny is as much subject to the direction being taken by others, over whom we have little or no control, as the choices we make for ourselves. If a burglar chooses to rob my house, his destiny crosses mine through no choice of my own.

Thus the choices the burglar makes affects my journey as well as his. Our personal destiny is therefore tied to that of every other being and every other living thing. We are as dependant on each other as we are on ourselves. If we look after each other and of course our environment, our destiny will take us to a brighter future. If we abuse each other and destroy our environment, destiny will lead us all, to a darker place.

Thus to believe that individuals have absolute control or no control over their own fate is a complete misnomer. Our individual destinies are self evidently, inextricably linked to the collective journey of life.

Politicians in Israel and Palestine and all over the world where nations and cultures are in conflict, would do well to remember that the destiny of nations as well as individuals are inseperable. No man or nation is an island unto himself or itself. Understanding this will help us navigate Jehovah's map of life more effectively and rewardingly.

Cycles of life

Seeds

As seed turns to flower and blooms in the spring
Aromas waft scented upon the wing,
Of bees and birds and butterflies,
Till the petals fall and the flower dies.

Seeds fall upon the mulch of autumn.
Trees bend in the whistling winds that court them,
And the leaves blush in hews of red,
As they tumble lightly to their dewy bed.

The leaves lie sleeping in gentle decay,
Harvested by mould turning them to chalk and clay,
While seeds lie trapped in the frosted earth,
Awaiting the spring of a new a born birth.

Cycles Of Life

A Baby Is Born



A baby was born this day, in a Bethlehem manger.
Three wise men following a star journeyed to see the stranger.
From heaven he came, to this humble earth,
When the virgin Mary, gave him birth.

And Leaves His Mark

Seeds of wisdom he did sow,
On barren ground they did flourish and grow.
His words were harvested by the twelve apostles,
And guarded for posterity, like ancient fossils.

And Dies And Is Reborn

Upon a heathen’s cross he died.
Why have you forsaken me Lord, he cried.
But he rose again from the dead,
Or so at least, the disciples said.

From Dust To Dust

From ashes to ashes and dust to dust,
We metamorphose as all life must,
From state to state in mysterious form,
Does all life itself transform.

The Beginning And The End

African sunset 

Cry Africa

Tracers red, orange, white
Racing across the sky at night,
Rat-a--tat-tat,
What are they firing at?

Boom, boom, boom
Shaking walls, trembling room
Thud, thud, thud
Splattering walls, feeble mud

Oh no, Here they go again!
Oh my God, it’s so insane.
Rat-a-tat, boom,
Soothsayers of doom.

Who, what, why,
Must these people die?
Splat, splat, splat,
Bullets and bones in deadly chat.

Evil afoot, stalks the night,
Dark brooding, primeval fright.
Hutu hatred , Tutsi might
How long still, must they fight?

Others forgive, better to live.
Than die, their blood to give,
Cannon fodder, human manure,
Flesh and dust, insecure.

Rat-a-tat-tat.
Splat, splat. splat,
Boom, boom, boom,
Soothsayers of doom.

Be gone to your hovel,
Squirm and grovel,
Let daylight break,
Oh Saviour awake.

Uneasy Air

There’s an uneasy eerie foreboding in the air,
The scent of treachery and hatred, everywhere.
Talk of war, in papers and on the radio,
On television, in cafes, wherever you go.
Between the White House and United Nations,
Sounds of discord and soured relations.

Twin towers of freedom and wealth,
Brought crashing down by evil stealth,
While forces stand at action stations,
The air is black with recriminations.
The French and Germans play childish games,
Driving wedges through America’s aims.

Cowardly Bin Laden, hiding in his lair,
On an Afghan mountain, somewhere,
Hatching plots of hideous construction,
Teaching the arts of mass destruction.
Britain and America all ready for war,
France and Germany closing the door.

There’s a stench of death, hanging in the air,
As into the abyss, once more we stare,
Pondering the atrocities of zealots and fools,
Who have no time for books and schools,
No interest have they, in thoughtful debate
So wracked their minds, in rabid hate.

There’s a sense of hopelessness in the air.
Death surrounds us everywhere.
What price our follies past,
To haunt us, come at last?
How will we another day,
Make these nightmares, go away.


Post 9/11