Day four of the poetry prompt advent calendar and the prompt was “unseen presence”.
You are here Beside me always. I know you are with me And though I may not see you When I stop and breathe I feel your presence. When I lie quiet in the darkness Your unseen arms enfold me And I hear your whisper in my ear.
You are the peace I know in the midst of the chaos. You are the beauty I find when all around is spoiled. You are the hope I find when the darkness descends. And when I feel ugly you remind me of my true beauty.
How sad that too often my eyes are blind to what you show How sad that my ears sometimes close to your words of comfort How sad that the petty distractions of the world oft obscure your truth And when worried I often forget that your hands hold me
But still, I know that your patient love is mine forever Your presence with me, though unseen, is eternal truth
Day 2 of the poetry prompt advent and the prompt is patience.
The in-between A time of malcontent When what is no longer amiss Is not yet as it should be Patience does not come naturally The grumbles burst forth unrestrained By manners or propriety And annoyed by my own agitation My hackles strain skyward
Yet still you do not respond My unanswered pleas for conclusion Hang unrecognised between us The strides we made in danger of being overlooked When still our destination is not gained
All in good time my child, all in good time.
My petulant cry – “Now is a good time” Dies on my lips As I finally meet your gaze And am engulfed in the love within.
[Apologies for dodgy sound mix – recorded on my phone! 🙈]
Lord I call to you, I cry out to you
I don’t understand, I feel so helpless
There’s nothing I can do, so I give it all to you
I feel so small, but you are mighty.
And Lord, you’re glorious
In your great goodness, I trust.
Lord send your power, to move in this place
Flood the whole world with your glory and grace
Send your mercy, send your healing
Let the whole world see your beautiful face.
Your beautiful face.
Lord I call to you, I cry out to you
I don’t understand, but you know all things
And as my tears fall, and as my heart breaks
I turn to you, for you are healer.
And Lord, you’re glorious
In your great goodness, I trust.
Lord send your power, to move in this place
Flood the whole world with your glory and grace
Send your mercy, send your healing
Let the whole world see your beautiful face.
Your beautiful face.
And Lord, you’re glorious
In your great goodness, I trust.
Lord send your power, to move in this place
Flood the whole world with your glory and grace
Send your mercy, send your healing
Let the whole world see your beautiful face.
Your beautiful face.
Your beautiful face.
A few years ago I wrote a poem about the women in the bible who encountered Jesus. In my poetry journal today the prompt was to write a poem from the point of view of someone in a well known story. I chose the woman at the well.
He saw me. I had come alone to draw, unseen, unjudged, from the well. He spoke to me Asking for a drink from one he should have ignored He told me That I should never thirst again – he would make it so He revealed to me The truth of who he was and why he came He knew me He knew the very worst but did not shrink from me
When previously I had felt judgement, here I met compassion And for the first time I felt free. I found truth, I found purpose, And I felt beautiful.
Is it just me or does life seem to have gotten SO busy. There seems to be an endless flow of distractions and intrusions that hinder me. Recently I have been reading a book called The ruthless elimination of hurry. (Ok, I confess; listening to – I’m far too busy to sit down with a book!) The book itself is an easy read, but it asks some challenging questions about our modern lifestyle. Written by John Mark Comer, an American pastor, it is written very much from a Christian perspective but there is lots in it to speak to anyone living their life in our crazy, busy, noisy, nonstop, often overwhelming world. The chapter I read (listened to) this week is all about silence and solitude, something that few of us get enough of! After discussing it in our small group I was inspired to write this poem.
In the silence In the stillness Of the quiet place I will seek you Come towards you Turn to me your face
I am ready To hear from you Speak your truth to me I will listen To hear from you Words so Fatherly
In the silence In the stillness Of the quiet place I will meet you Be at peace there Rest in your embrace
Although I have been writing for decades, it is only more recently that I have had the courage to share my writing. It started with a writing group my husband got me to join. It was, thankfully, a small group but still when it came to reading what I had written it was painful. My heart would thump, my mouth would dry and I struggled to concentrate listening to the work of other group members, as I swung between desperately wanting my turn to be over so I could listen and enjoy the others, and hoping we would run out of time before I had to read mine. The fact that they actually seemed to like what I wrote was unexpected, and such a relief, but I didn’t quite believe it. Since the group ended, I haven’t read anything to anyone, so when I was asked if I would write and perform a poem for a Christmas concert this year I was as surprised as anyone when the “yes” came out of my mouth. I was still really nervous, but my self confidence has grown hugely and I knew that I could do this.
The first hurdle I had to overcome was actually writing the poem. It’s strange how poetry can come so naturally at times, yet now I just didn’t know where to start. I had plenty of notice, but that really just meant more discarded first lines and more time spent fretting. Eventually I sat down a week before the concert and looking back at all the ideas and abandoned phrases from previous attempts to write, I realised I had essentially written a poem in pieces. All I needed to do was put them together in the right places and I had something that summed up what I wanted to say. However, it was now time to panic about actually performing it.
I love reading to my children, although now they are older it is not something I get to do so much anymore. I put on voices, and try to ‘express’ what I am reading in a way that is fun for me as well as enjoyable/informative for them. But dramatic reading to my kids is a far cry from a poetry reading in front of a group of mostly strangers. I tried many times, when alone, to recite it with the right expressive emphasis but it just sounded insincere (to me anyway).And then I made the mistake of recording myself on my phone, my voice sounds so strange outside of my head that it really dented my confidence.
I did it though.
I stood up with a microphone in my unsteady hand and looked around at the faces looking at me while I said the words I had written. I didn’t rush, I didn’t stumble over my words, and when I finished I heard applause! I walked off stage elated. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not about to rush off into the world of performance poetry, but I achieved something that Saturday evening. I did something that a previous me could never have done, and at the same time proved to myself that I am not a small insignificant voice that no-one wants to hear.
Immanuel
One night. A night like any other A night like none before, like none ever again
The night came like each before; The sun descended at the end of the day Making room for the moon and the stars Little did the sun know it would rise to shine on a world forever changed
A star A star unlike any other A star like none before, like none ever again
The star appeared so brightly shining It traversed the sky, piercing the night, A herald of hope that surely proclaims Love has come, the Divine love has been born for all
A Baby Born in humility Born in a place obscure and un-renowned
His a birth like many others, a mothers labouring Long and painful, but oh so worthwhile when a tiny cry is heard. Yet here was straw and dirt and animals in a borrowed room Little did the cattle know, that the baby warmed by their breath was the child Christ.
How well do we hide this story? Deck it out in tinsel and holly Obscure it’s truth with feasting and merriment Smother this grace with excess and greed
We no longer see the radical love that started it all We have turned from the Glory of the God who reigns on high, Yet deigns to stoop and envelop us in his unconditional love.
He is here now, waiting for each of us To clear away the wrapping To free ourselves from festive distractions And once again gaze in awe At the majestic humility of the babe in the hay. Almighty God with us.
Life, as I understand it 