Sleep

Relaxing so to breathe and breathe each breath,

I now descend into the lesser death

From which tomorrow, waking, I shall rise

Feeling the sun bring life to sleep filled eyes.

Eleven haikus

Golden, buried trees
Prepare for winter’s torment
As, naked, we die.

New blossom brings bees
To the orchard’s luring colours -
Harvest yet to come.

Snow lies and freezes
In the breath of frosty days’
Solar impotence.

Morning welcomes light,
Beckoning to the coming day -
Before night returns.

I kneel and reach weeds
To dig them out, roots too.
Next week they return.

A rose smells sweetly
By the ripening onion bed.
They smell when gathered!

Garlic moments now
Excite the gardener’s harvest;
They remain in you!

Beans climb to the sun
And grow from scarlet blossoms.
The wind destroys them.

We walk, holding hands
Within the dappled forest light.
Scattering rotting leaves.

I watch the moon rise
Over distant snow clad hills;
The bright night stars fade.

Clattering over falls
The brook disturbs the quiet,
Yet is peace itself.

Christians united

Pentecostal presence lighting up the congregation
Sacramental Catholics raise their voice in jubilation
Methodists who preach the word with power, authority,
And Anglicans complete the group to bring sincerity.

Denominational differences will now be set aside
Here in a world in which the power of God must be applied.
We'll pray together, act together, witness to this land
And do everything we can to bring about God's Kingdom plan.

We'll praise Him in our worship and recognise the pain
Of a world which has forgotten His resurrection gain.
So join me fellow Christian along this pilgrim way
And be my Christ-companion today and every day.

Christmas

Christmas is a time for love and joy,
A time to give and also to receive.
This is a time that hurries quickly by
For time which dragged now speeds and so deceives.

Poppy fields

Red it splashes
Through the wheat and barley,
Violent clashes
Of fiery colours, only

Marking the earth.
Lying on a flat map of patience;
Seeds give birth
To the colour of conscience.

Scarlet sky markers
Show the flowery way
To the earth's breast
From the fresh tilled day.

Rape only screams
At a yellowed sky;
Scarlet, the colour of dreams
Questions why

The farmer's curse
Is creation's delicacy?
As summer nears
Its own bright ecstasy.

The Saviour's hands
Touch this field and bleed
From deep wounds
Upon the waiting seeds.

The flowered year

Crocuses bloom when spring has sprung
And there’s no room for feeling glum;
But when church bells their rings have rung
The year moves to Chrysanthemum.

And as the winter chill draws near,
When mists and rain beset the hills,
And ring the end of the flowered year,
It's only weeks to daffodils.

Least said...

"You fool," I think but that's not what I say;
For I'd much rather try to keep the peace.
There may be angst here but there's no release
In saying what I know I want to say.

I really don't want to exacerbate
The situation that has risen here.
Nor do I ever want it to appear
That I was one who only could berate.

Instead I keep my cool and hold my tongue.
Sometimes I'll nod and sometimes shake my head;
For soonest mended is when least is said
And easier for us all to get along.