As Belarusian citizens amassed in protest against their dictator president of 25 years, Alexander Lukashenko, the recognised national press reported on swans and harvests and other non-events. This poem reflects the hidden unrest that continues behind the official scenes. Click the links in the first verse of the poem to...
The rainbow has been a symbol
Since almost right back at the start
It’s a reminder from our loving God
“Do not fear, take heart”
You see since the fall of Adam
There has been no sinless man (Romans 3: 10)
But despite our sinful rebellion
God has always had...
As we emerge from UK coronavirus lockdown, this poem reflects on the way we lived our lives before and during the height of the Covid-19 pandemic. It was reported that many people turned to prayer. Jesus Christ offers hope and new life to those who seek him.
What is it all about then, this thing that they call church?
A crutch for needy losers, when life's left them in the lurch?
A place that people turn to when they just can't handle strife;
or so terrified of dying that they seek an afterlife?
Easter has come, and we are prisoners still,
And feel the loss of all we would have planned
To celebrate the ancient, timeless thrill
Of resurrection, as throughout this land,
Throughout this world indeed, through ages past
The unremembered multitude of those
Who have been saved by Jesus’ dying grace...
We all have days when we would say
"I want to be alone"
To shut the door and draw the drapes,
Unplug the telephone.
Block out the world, switch off the stress
And savour peace and quiet.
We need those times of solitude,
to rest the mind and heart....
In every generation there's an "end is nigh" event; famine, war or climate change,
disasters from a natural cause, or those that we invent. And now the world is under threat the enemy unseen; spreading fear and bringing death... its name? COVID-19
Suddenly we face the fact that we aren't...
Across shimmering wastelands and beneath endless skies,
Where the scorpion lurks, where the grim vulture flies,
Where the trail’s swept trackless by the djinn in the breeze,
Where mirages conjure mad cities or seas,
Where the silence can roar, and the day’s brilliance pierce,
And the heat bind and batter...
"Then there was silence"
In memory of 11th November 1918
The idea for this poem came from hearing an audio recording commissioned by the Imperial War Museum, in partnership with sound designers Coda to Coda, and released in 2018 to commemorate the centenary of the end of the First World...