Category: Poetry

Wildflowers Anonymous (a poem)

Hello my name is
Wildflower
Here today and
Gone tomorrow
Bursting glory
In my hour
Then I fade away

With me are ten thousand
Others—each one with
The same bright colours
How will I stand out from these
If I am just the same?

I don’t mind
It’s not my job
My colours are
A gift from God
And if I bloom
For just one day
And if a million
Are the same
And if nobody
Learns my name
I’ll still bloom here—
I still will bring
My little piece of glory
Sing
My song into the story
For my Maker
For my King

Afternoon (a poem)

At first all I feel is
The stillness and peace—
The silence of grass and
The patience of trees

Then slowly my senses
Begin to attune
To the business of nature
This warm afternoon

The birds chatter on
With their intricate songs
And there must be a meaning
To what I am hearing
While bees move with vigour
From flower to flower
A butterfly, also—
Though his schedule’s lighter
And now I see flies
And some midges float by
And an ant—and the action
Is filling my eyes!
And though it is quiet
Compared to my screens
And though it is peaceful
There’s work for the trees
As they silently grow
And the ivy and gorse
And the grass-eating horse
For the peace of this earth
Isn’t lazy or languid
It’s busy and blessed
And yet somehow,
At rest

A Poem About Life

I sat down to write a poem about life
The roof is leaking.
I began to think about the happy and
The dryer’s squeaking.

I got up and sat again and thought
Of mysteries
And things I ought
To have done yesterday.

Life is full of joy and
I’d better fold the clothes.
How it goes so fast
Nobody knows.

Again, it’s full of joy and
Interruption
Moments of construction
Of this messy
Happy gift of

What was I saying?
Oh yes the gift I love—

Life

Unthinkable (a poem)

If there was ever a doubt that God can take the evil of this world and turn it into good greater than we can imagine, that doubt was laid to rest when Jesus walked out of the tomb where he had been laid to rest. Humanity killed him for spite, and he died willingly—and rose again to save us. Now he promises that the troubles of his children who trust and follow him will also “work together for good” (Romans 8:28)—but of course that’s not how it feels in the moment when we face the unthinkable. 

Unthinkable

Sometimes God allows
The unthinkable
Unbelievable
Thing
To happen

Continue reading Unthinkable (a poem)

Perspicuity (a poem)

They tell me
Perspicuity
Means “clarity”
But if that’s so
What’s the
Proposed utility
Of saying it this way?

Perhaps the pride of
Sounding smart
By using Latin
Works of art
To prove to
Educated classes
You’re above the
Unwashed masses
Who insist on using
Simple language
(Such as “clear”)
Where gilded words
Perspicuous
Could raise themselves
Conspicuous
Above the tired landscape
Of all clear
Communication

Winter Walk (a poem)

I put my hands inside my sleeves
And stuff them in my pockets
My collar up against the wind
Is not enough to block it
But as my nose and ears complain
Of slowly freezing
In my brain
My thoughts are getting warmer
And more active with each step
This wind has fanned the flame—
Yes even frozen wind—and swept
My thoughts into a blaze
And I’m aware that if I kept
My body locked
Behind the glaze
In perfect comfort
All my days
That there my mind
Would rest in ease—
And in that warmth
Would slowly
Freeze

The First Noel (a poem)

There was fear in the fields
When the angels came
When the heavenly beings
Appeared to men—
But then
Who wouldn’t be
Terrified
When the sky rips through
And the unseen realm
Is on top of you?
What had been one more
Silent night
Was suddenly
Ablaze with light
With gloria in excelsis Deo
The armies of heaven
Invading earth to
Tell some lonely
Shepherds few
“The King of kings has come for you!
He’s lying in a feeding trough”
And if, my friends,
That’s not enough
To make your eyes go wide
With wonder
You can look away and cling to
Cozy festive cheer to jingle
All the way—but wait! The day
A child came
To conquer death
And vanquish hell
Is glorious—
The first noel
This babe is Lord
Above all things
And heaven and nature sings
And heaven and nature sings

Fallow (a poem)

Today’s poem is inspired by some fields that I walk past regularly, which are lying fallow this time of year. I’ve felt that way, too.

Fallow

The harvester’s tyres
Left tracks on the ground
In the cold empty earth
Broken stalks all I found
To remember the days
When I used to walk by
When the soil was full
When the harvest was high

As I look at it now
It all seems so forlorn
So naked and useless
I’m tempted to mourn
Until I remember
The promise of spring
It’s not dead—it’s waiting
To rise up again

And I’ve felt the plough blades
On my back as well
And I’ve been left waiting
When everything fell
And I’ve seen what God
In his wisdom can grow
Out of cold empty hearts
With the seed that he sows

Rain On The Window (a poem)

The garden is
A liquid blur
But I don’t stir
To close the blinds
The world has turned
Impressionistic—
Like a sad
(But still artistic)
Painter came
And just remixed it
Smudged the lines
And drained the colour
Told the sun
He shouldn’t bother
Wiped the sky
And stars away
And left me only
Endless grey
And as I look
Outside I think
That even when
It’s indistinct
And even when
It blurs my thoughts
And when it rains
And drains
And blots
And even when
It breaks my heart
This world is still
A work of art