Sunday, 16 February 2020

In The Beginning Was The Word

In the beginning was The Word 
And The Word was with God.
And since The Word was in the beginning
And The Word was with God,
Then The Word is our Foundation, 
Our underpinning.
The Word was the means by which we were created,
So let all things be spoken of 
And argued and debated. 
In the beginning was The Word
And The Word is in the end
And God used The Word
Both to console and to offend.
And loving the world
He made not The Word mince 
But sent His Son, to use it wisely, 
To persuade and convince.

Friday, 14 February 2020

Valentine’s Day

Since I was born in 1969,
I cannot claim that my dear Valentine,
Still loves loves those little faults which are all mine,
Or can forgive them, as they are in plenty.
I’m getting old and grey
And rather shabby,
And even more ill tempered, sharp and crabby,
And can’t be arsed to act some soppy way,
Because it is St Valentine his day.
I slapped some makeup on, and did my hair,
Knowing that my husband wouldn’t care,
Because he’s tired, having been away.
Then put my varifocals back on,
Because my vision isn’t 2020,
And changed out of my dress all ruched and shifty
(Which left me feeling cold as well as flabby
And emphasised my figure had gone)
Back into tweedy things all wooly:
For no one loves an old bag when she’s fifty. 

Saturday, 1 February 2020

Thoughts Just Before Dawn, Feb. 1st 2020, Brexit Day

The velvet darkness wrapped about the room,
Still gives no sense of how the coming dawn
Will steal upon the kind, familiar gloom
With freedom’s sweeter light, which is new born.

The labouring has lasted much too long
But now we’re strengthened, rested, and renewed
We shall begin to feel the forces, strong,
Which push us out into the world imbued
With something of the sense that this is meant.

The first few bars of some new, cautious song
When tested on this not yet morning hour
Might peter out and come to naught, the throng
Has wisdom,  bides a little yet. 

The dour
Midwife lurks with swaddling bands
To bind and stifle, but she cannot hold
The infant back, nor tie its gripping hands.

There’s nothing to be done, but hope to mould
The character of this determined child.

But baby is a rebel through and through,
Cares nothing for a shoddy compromise.
The day is growing out of the deep blue,
And liberty is shining in her eyes,
Reflected there, from generations back,
And knows no timid, sad discouragement.
Its spirit can’t be squashed, it shan’t be dulled,
Nor into false security be lulled,
It has no yearning for the womb’s deep black.

The child as she develops must run wild,
The wary, anxious parent must relent. 

The dawn is picking up now, gathering pace
Our day of freedom truly has begun
And of the golden stars there is no trace,
A better light is shining now, the sun.