I read Your Theology Book

                       

I read your theology book

It said lots of things about God and people and Jesus.

The writing was all joined up,connected

By neat straight lines,

I understood it,

But I went away and wept.

I read your theology book,

It said lots of things about God and people and Jesus.

There was a great hole through the centre of the pages,

The writing just went round, pretending it wasn’t there.

I understood it,

But I went away lonely.

I read your theology  book ,

It said lots of things about God and people and Jesus

All smeared with your tears and sweat stains

And then mine

I’m not sure I understood

But I went away filled with kindness and wonder

               

                                                                                  WILF 06/03/2015

  

Poem without words

I think I was having a bit of a John Cage moment when I wrote this!It is about human life; from birth to death.Three sections of life infancy youth old age.

Light Filtering Through

                                                Light Filtering Through

Light filtering

Through

Autumn sky and leaves

Through

Cobwebby rain stained windows

Is still

Light

The voice of a friend

Through

The rattle of the market

Through

The haggling of strangers

The voice

Made   sweeter

God’s   breath

Through

You with all your......

Through

You

God’s breath  smelling of you

Is still God’s breath

                                                          Wilf 12/2014

Swan in Moonlight

Birthed of the roaring golden womb,
Alighting on the moon's cool seas
And a swift silent leap to pour
Upon the river close to me.

The swan swam and looked to know
The pearl white light in which she moved and ruled
To me she seemed to be that light embodied 
Winged and white,
Leaving flakes to shimmer on the river
As she passed quietly through.

She was a herald, a mystic sign.

As I looked upon her I saw another river:
All of life cold and dark
With friendship, light embodied,  Swimming through
Defiant.                                                    Wilf 09/2014

Memories

In the stillness of the nursery
Magic midnight hold her breath and smiles 
As cupboard doors creak,
Out tumbles a hoard of little soldiers
Small toys but jumping,twitching grinning silly
Mischief's life dances in the tin and wood and lead.

Peevish prods and pinches
Round and round they wheel
Twisting what is real,"We played this game with you remember,remember how it feels?"
Midnight's magic never ends
Nor do the dancers stop to catch their breath,
Until juice from a darker hour's fruit
Drips upon the spell
And all is well.
The tired soul can breath, healed
And sinking to sleep will rise tomorrow 
As a conqueror.
                                                Wilf 1991

The North sea as a type of God-Two views

Flamborough Head stands proud
Cliffs that defy the Almighty
Cold clean unscalable hardness,
He is unconquered
and mocks the fling and hurl
Of wave worn wave borne rocks.
Defiant.His horn held high
Warning the ships of the sea,
"Do not venture close,my bones lie hidden 
Beneath the waves and I will scrape out your heart".

Barmston beach by contrast is demure and yielding
Her sandy gravel cliffs, low and homely
Present a shy freckled face to the sea.
Shy,yet brave to face onslaughts 
And be dragged away.
Everything built here will fall
The very land be lapped and lashed away,
But I would rather be like her.

Though everything topple,make Your inroads Lord
Let me be as a bay,tear me down,
Wrap me round with ocean and let Your waves
Bring ships to harbour in me.
                                              Wilf1996

The mad and the Wild

The mad mane
Lashing and thrashing
With a million briney whips
Pounding and grinding with foaming fists
Wild white water tearing down the ramparts and cliffs,
        Oh God the sea is like a pool
        Compared to You
        I look upon Your waves with dread
        But if they break upon my soul
        Let me be quickly sped
        To the shoals
        Sheltered in Your heart's sea bed.

Wild wild wind
Who can tame Your breathless pace
Or match Your madcap motion's race?  
A devastating dance of strange and dangerous grace,

My God the storm is like a summer breeze
Compared to You,
Who is not felled before Your blast?
But let me be a tiny seed
Borne upon Your breath and blown at last
To grow amidst the meadows of Your forest.

                                                           Wilf 1996