Unintentional Poet

Remembering Grace Five years ago today, I had reached 25 weeks of pregnancy with our second child – a baby sister for Benjamin, then 19 months old. The pregnancy was progressing well so, when I hadn’t felt much movement for 24 hours, I wasn’t panicked as I phoned the doctor to a “quick” check that all was well, just before Christmas. It wasn’t. The doctor found no heartbeat, and, an hour later, at the hospital, a scan confirmed that our baby had died. Three days later, in the early hours of the 27 th December, Grace Tennant was stillborn, weighing little over 1lb. As she was born post-24 weeks, she has a birth certificate, a ‘real’ place in history – a small but important thing to us, when we had to register her birth at the town hall a few days later. To sum up the ensuing days, weeks and months that followed that week is impossible – sadness, anger, despair, questions, mixed with gratitude for the deep love and support of family and friends, which held us together and got ...

Wrote this one a while ago...not got round to adding any to my blog since the summer...probably a good one to read, as the holidays end and the stresses and strains of life resurface...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 God, attentive Father, reminds, “I see your comings and goings. I delight over you with sing...

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...

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...