Unintentional Poet

This poem is about God's grace - a challenging theme to capture in words! Grace A woman, weeping, crumpled on the floor, trapped in the impenetrable prison of her own, imperfect life – the bars are not steel, the walls are not high or covered with brutal barbed wire, but her prison is real. Grace, yet undiscovered.   A man, wheeling and dealing in the business world, making his mark in millions on the world rich list, the picture of worldly success, locks up his multiplex of offices, slopes home, alone, to an immaculate, soulless, house, where photos of his family are all he has left to remind him he was once much richer. Grace, yet unacknowledged.   The pensioner, stopping each evening to pour herself drink after drink, to numb the pain that pierces as she caresses the framed photograph. of her late husband in her wrinkled hands, remembering the joys and regrets, wondering how she’ll go o

In a brief break from studying Robert Browning's Poetry, for my A Level teaching in September, I am inspired to add a second poem. This one was written for a service at church with the theme 'The Father's Love'. If you like it, let me know! The Father’s Love   I want to cry today. I want the pain and exhaustion of life to go away. I want to hide under the bed and never come out. I want to lie on the floor and throw a tremendous tantrum, let all the anger, hurt and disappointment out, in heaving, shuddering sobs. And God, compassionate Father, gently says, “I will comfort you, And turn your mourning into dancing.”   I want to be noticed today. I want the people who ask how I am, whilst dashing through the nearest doorway, to stop, and actually, really care. I want someone to acknowledge my efforts, praise me for my progress, love me for who I am, understand what is going on in this mixed-up mind. And

I have been meaning to set up a blog in order to put some of my poems on the web, as some have commented that they are worth sharing...so here is a test attempt, with one of my most recent offerings! Enjoy! First Easter Weeping, betrayal, denial; A culmination, an end – Not the one envisaged through all the talk of saving, reigning, rescuing. Not this. Frail and fragile, agonising weakness. Searing pain from brutal nails. “It is finished,” let out in a gasping cry. Confusion, futility, hopes dashed, Hiding and huddled, not daring to face the dawn, The laughter, the jeers, the “I told you so’s.” Where is your saviour now? Descending dejectedly into the darkest of nights, Clouds obscuring the vision. The hope, previously stirring in hearts who had believed, halted. What of that hope? What of his promises? Of freedom? Deliverance? A coming kingdom? Dejected, demoralised, a dark wall of defeat, Hopelessness takes hold. The curtain of the temple, tearing, Raising questions, sparking