Son of Man, Son of God

And so that final gasp in dead of night

that brought the curtain down on hope;

that grinding fear of a cruel tomorrow

and the rising despair that death brings;

but this was no ordinary death of a man,

this was no passing of a common mortal;

though a man born of woman thou wast,

yet more than that wast thou, much more.


Thy time had been short and thy path
strewn with the sharp thorns cast
 by the cruel hands of cruel minds
impelled by even crueller hearts,
whose fear made sure thine end.

Thy life had been mapped since birth
and thy certain demise early foretold;
circumscribed by destiny's demands, 
by a heavenly mission forged for Earth,
by a purpose that marked out thy days,
by a Fate that held thee tight in her claw,
the march of days bore thee to thine end.


Son of God made God by the Father,
the Word made flesh by the Divine,
the instrument of Salvation and Rebirth
and the Grace of Redemption and Hope;
such a burden on such frail shoulders
and the Light of the World in one Man.


And so we mark thy coming and thy life
and the dark shadow of thy passing
and thy story is told and retold
stirring belief and stiffening faith
in the Son of Man, the Son of God!


Jesus was thy name, Christ thy title,
and the Messiah thy sacred calling.
Thou camest from God, wast born of woman
didst die and return to Heaven,
there to reign at God's side.

Beyond a bridge somewhere...

Beyond a bridge, that leads the way,

between tall and slender arching trees

that line a long and winding forest road,

there is a spot, they say, where light,

bursting thru with such force and focus,

with such palpable intensity and blaze,

has spawned effects defying nature's law,

reason, and the teachings of experience;

but more than this the rumours also speak

of a strange beam of wondrous flaming light

that, as though heaven-sent, swift descends

to wreak such magic on passing folk

who later speak of having felt a force,

of being swiftly borne aloft above the trees,

of looking down from high on all below,

held there as though by an unseen hand,

for a span of time as none are able to agree

until, as by some magic unknown to man,

they find themselves again on terra firma,

on the selfsame spot now dark in shade,

quite unable to make sense of that which

sense defies by any human measure known,

or any other means conceived to understand

the nature of the seemingly unnatural,

of a beam of blinding light that takes

and lifts and flings and holds quite still,

before it loosens, lets slide to freely flow

back to where moments before one stood

full bathed in the hush of a heavenly light.

The Return of Spring

Spring returns bright and fresh of face,

shedding light upon the waking earth,

inciting growth from dormant life,

pledging plenty after winter’s dearth.

Spring is here and nature’s stirring,

days are warmer, nights are milder;

timid shoots poke above the ground,

welcoming the beetle and the spider.

Skies are bluer, clouds are thinner,

the sun shines longer, ever brighter;  

there is a warm freshness in the air

that makes the human spirit lighter.

Daffodil and daisy, the crocus too,

decorate garden, field and every park,

and add welcome colour and beauty

to the song of the robin and the lark.

Spring is here and change is in the air,

with bud and blossom on bush and tree;

it’s time to mark the change of season,

to change our clothes and break out free!

Just Hanging Around

I’m just hanging around,

I’m at the end of my rope,

there’s nothing to live for,

I’ve run out of hope.

I’m just hanging around,

I’m at a loose end,

can’t hang on anymore,

I’m going round the bend.

Bye, cruel world!

I’m just hanging around,

but it won’t be too long

before I’m all done here

with this same old song.

I’m just hanging around,

it’s pathetic, I know,

but what else can I do,

it’s the end of the show.

I’m just hanging around,

but now I’m starting to choke,

so, look, before it’s too late,

a fond farewell to all you folk!