Archives for category: 2010 poems

Today’s scripture readings were from Ezekiel 28:1-10 about God’s judgement on Tyre and Matthew 19:23-30 about the difficulty of the rich to enter the kingdom of heaven. I wonder how we will be judged – this time, full of wars, wealth and power? I wrote this in 2010, based on the hymn ‘Be Thou my Vision’.


Our Vision


Be thou our judge, O future, our lord,

lay at our feet that fossil, the sword.

In thy great mercy lay flowers on our graves;

our follies were learnings, this memory it saves.


Be thou reminder, be thou regret,

for our short-sightedness, lest we forget.

Tell all our stories of power and greed;

in our destruction, lament the dead seed.


Shed thou your tears for what you have lost,

mourn our extravagance, tally the cost.

Pity our innocence, naive as we knew

only to pillage, plunder and hue.


Be thou outpouring, pour out your rain,

flood with your justice, then flourish again.

Remember our failings, our debt to your land,

but let us ask pardon and time’s healing hand.


Have been pondering on the meaning of the complex word we use ‘Trinity’. I wrote these three poems in 2010, expressing some of the questions, thoughts and ideas I am still considering.




Ah! My scribe.
Of course, you
must see that none
of this is real.
I do not talk.
I have no lips,
no tongue,
no throat.
I don’t even think.
No, how could I?
A brain, have I?
Or nerves?
Or blood?
In fact, all your
thinking beats me.
You have your reasons
for everything.
I just am.
Or am not.

Do you mind?
I do not have one.
Nor do I have wants.
Not like you. You think you
know. I have no knowledge.


What is greater than one and smaller than the infinite?
A hole is torn in space.
How can all of eternity fit into a minute?
The unembodied’s face.

Though fraught through and through with divine impersonality,
a character appears,
evading comprehension yet clutching reality,
all that humanness fears.

One doubts if sign-language was never not misunderstood,
truth, love, paradise lost.
But if, then, a cast is moulded for our concept of good
and, prepared for the cost,

that one might expose the inconceivable, invisible,
true magic, under-priced,
and then splitting the atom once thought indivisible,
arrives present the Christ.


Spirit is a subtle theme
we grow with.
At first a crisp history,
it blurs into mystery;
and life, myth.

In the end does it matter,
all these words?
We can know love through a kiss;
melodiousness, is this
not in birds?

Particular, today’s beauty
in the sun.
Here in this heart is a pain;
here, God revealed, and/or slain
in the Son.


Of course, a trilogy
can’t be split into four.
No – all estimation,
vague imagination:
a void to the core.



If you, God, are relationship,
then why am I so scared?
Why does my heart recoil from love,
why is my giving spared?

If you, my God, need each of three,
then why am I alone?
Why is my heart still in one piece,
why is my soul unknown?

If you, my God, are truly one,
then why do I hold back?
Why do I label ‘better’,
why do I presume lack?

If you, my God, invite me in,
then why do I still see
a Trinity of love in you,
but not one within me?


Word Limit

Love in three dimensions,
Father, Son
and Spirit mystery tensions
in the One.

Maker, Liberator,
Parent, Child.
Sustainer and Creator,
wild and mild.

Eternal Wisdom knowing,
Mother, Daughter.
Fountain, ever-flowing,
Living Water.

Source of all that will be,
Only Wise.
Yet an earthling, still He
lives and dies.

Image, truly showing,
Holy Birth.
Air and water flowing,
fire and earth.

Holy Unbegotten,
not forgot.
Never unforgotten,
but Begot.

Lover and Beloved
and their Love:
once, in form discovered
as a dove.

Spirating or proceeding,
Voice Unheard.
Logos here is bleeding,
Living Word.

Presence and the Power,
Alpha and Omega,
near and far.

Beyond our limitations,
good or bad.
Persons in relations,
Abba, Dad.

Feminine Sophia,
Caring Womb.
Holy Prophet, seer,
crib and tomb.

Truthful Sea.
Riot, celebration,

Perichōrētic heaving,
round about.
Encompassing and weaving
in and out.

Family in reunion,
agapē of friends.
Mutual communion
never ends.

Words can play a game,
a Trinity too few.
And God, by any other name,
is not untrue.