Thursday, 26 July 2018

Pansy Boy

                         PANSY BOY

There he was,
Out,
Out on his own
Out in the cold because he was different.
You couldn't miss him, even with his head down
All colour and beauty

They called him, “Pansy”, they were right,
But not for any reason they knew.

All his life had been a winter of cruelty
He sighed and cried prayed and
Stayed right through the coldest times
And he blossomed
Pansy: beautiful tough.
     
                             Wilf July 2018

Today, Give Flowers to the Dead

Today, give flowers to the dead
Yesterday they weren't here
Tomorrow they will be gone.
Today.

The poor you can give to yesterday
(Oh, but you didn't) or tomorrow,
They will still be here
They are always here.
Any other day you can give to them

But today give flowers to the dead
Fill their graves to overflowing
Let today be a day of waste.
    
                               WILF 06/ 2018

Tuesday, 3 July 2018

A Prayer

               A PRAYER
Lord I don't know what to say
I have no confidence that my words
Could express my heart
And,
Even if I spoke to You in the tongues
Of men and angels……….

But take my sighs: the breath of my heart
These informed words
Whatever they may be they are my heart,
They are for You, All Knowing One
I know you will understand
And answer me
                                 Wilf July 2018

Saturday, 16 December 2017

Cross

                         CROSS
On a night when something beautiful died,
I glanced at the large wooden cross
Above our fire
It reminded me of somewhere You'd been,
On a day when something beautiful died.

The cross was hard, awkward, unyielding
Like everything else in that moment
But I had to cling to it maybe somehow
I could be closer to You.

Your beauty had died, mine too
My grief burst
The wood melted
Warm and soft like a body
I embraced it, You embraced me
In the  sacrament of that moment
In the cross You ask us all to bear.
     
               Wilf Dec 2017

Tuesday, 12 December 2017

Four Short Poems

                            VESSEL
Dirty earth
Mixed with blood
Kneaded and spun, fired and dipped and fired
And then
A pot to hold the molten gold
And pour the blood
On to dirty earth

                            Wilf Dec 2017


                 ANSWERED PRAYER
I wrote you a letter.
I didn't know your name,
And I had no  words but I wrote anyway.
I didn't know where you lived  
So I slid it in a blank envelope
Which somehow found your door


I didn't think You knew I was here
Or there
    or anywhere or,..
        or any body
But in the days that followed
The answer came, right here,
To me.
                    Wilf Dec 2017


         MINUTES
You turn the minutes,
These empty minutes
Into moments,
These moments
Into a life,
A life into
Our life
And all that life has come to be
Comes to be in this moment
In You
                          Wilf Dec 2017


              PICKING GRAPES IN TIME OF WAR

It seems frivolous to be doing this now
When people are fighting and dying
In a desert war in the Midlands
But these grapes dried under the high sun
Are for the weary soldiers,

It seems frivolous to be treading grapes
In this time
When the poor are being crushed.
But the feet that tread this fruit
Are the feet that have trod the path:
And wine gladdens the heart


                Wilf Dec 2017



Friday, 29 September 2017

The Lost Son

                     THE LOST SON
It was such a joyful day when Yaron came home. He looked half dead, but that was good as I had feared he was dead. A joyful day, a great feast; but it ended in sadness that has become like a twisting knife.
                      Saddiq was such a good boy. But when Yaron came back, he changed: first he was cold and distant to his brother, then to me for welcoming him back. Now he doesn't even  speak to his mother, poor Anna she weeps herself to sleep most nights. But Saddiq is in the synagogue as always as if nothing is wrong and this year he has been to the temple in Jerusalem three times, once right in the middle of harvest. Yaron did the work of three men then. Oh my Saddiq, does he think he can talk to God even though he will not speak to us?
                 I always knew that Yaron would be back. Now he is so grateful for everything, but it is not easy for him: while he was away he fell in love with a beautiful Phoenician woman. He found out that she was a prostitute, it broke his heart. Sometimes at night I hear him praying  for Father God to take away his love for her, he misses her badly.
                        Yes I always knew he would come back, but I am not so sure about Saddiq. He is in a dark and bitter place, further away than Yaron ever was, I have never seen this, is there a way back from such a place? If there is a God in heaven there has to be. But will my Saddiq come that way?
                       I hope, I pray, but I do not know.
               
                          Wilf Sep 2017

Friday, 25 August 2017

Judas

Green                                ‘Follow Me’.
Leaf curls                           He smiles
Spring                                Spring

Wind                                  ‘Heal the sick’.
Leaf curls                           He smiles
Summer                             Summer

Brown                                30 pieces,
Leaf curls                           He smiles
Autumn                              Autumn

Ground                               A kiss,
Leaf curls                           He smiles
Winter                                Winter

Green                                            .
Leaf curls                                 .
Spring                                .
   
                       Wilf 06/ 2017