Heirloom

picture: Eyam, Derbyshire. (Plague village 1666)

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The centuries that built this landscape

carry the trails of forebear’s toil

when plague’s rampant hand

cut deep in lovers hearts.

Each return walk in this wonderland

stirs memories of distant days;

footprints faded, sunlight shaded,

details plundered by raiding time.

Yet, here the smile of the sun

restores, like heirlooms,

remembrances

and paths where lovers strolled

are wandered again hand in hand.

Whilst pestilence, held within the bars of history,

cannot reach its imprisoned hand to interfere.

Time heals what medicine cannot divine,

‘And so through all the length of days

Thy goodness faileth never’.

 This is part of the November blog chain of writing on the theme 'heirloom' by members of ChristianWriters.com  Please see the full list of those involved (in the right hand column) and visit a few of the others.

Quest

Christmas fades,

Easter’s bloody horizon

snarls at Lenten end.

A star that shone so brightly
in the constellation of lesser gods
beckons wise men still

from their learnèd gazing.

The journey remains arduous
‘cold coming’*

through savage landscapes of the day
with only faith as guide
and fellowship's dichotomy –

grace and duty
a constant companion.

Unwisdom of minor sages steal
at the hem of our garments
their impotent questions
draining energy and making each step
an effort of the soul.

‘There was a birth’* ,

there was a death,

at the entrance to eternity

and questing travellers

touch that death

with their own nativity.

*‘cold coming’& ‘There was a birth’ – from TS Eliott’s ‘Journey of the magi’

Journey of the Magi

 This is part of the January blog chain of writing by members of ChristianWriters.com - please see the full list  of those involved in the right hand column and visit a few of the others.

Harvest memorial

 

…….For the beauty of the earth.

Incense of apples in a chapel,

bread, unbroken, on the lectern,

flowers spilling from the communion table

like troubled wine.

…….Come ye thankful people come.

The ‘five-a-day’

unknown at table

displayed

before a bountiful God.

…….We plough the fields and scatter.

Stolen bites,

apple cores pocketed -

disposed evidence

of thankful appetites.

…….All things bright and beautiful.

Children parading like soldiers

with baskets

fused with runner beans

armed with potatoes

as the clock

ticks away innocence.

The world turns,

seasons wax and wane

in tidal sweep.

’Seed time and harvest,

while earth remains…..’

slides into the oblivion

of famine, war,

ethnic cleansing -

a tarnished harvest

of unthankfulness.

 

This is part of the October blog chain of writing by members of ChristianWriters.com - please see the full list  of those involved in the right hand column and visit a few of the others.

I will love you

I will love you

Before I see another day,
before tide or moon
                               steal time away,
I will love you.

Before I know another breath,
before living blood
                        calls life from death,
I will love you.

Before that sweet taste of wine
has passed by lip
                           to tongue of mine,
I will love you.

Before this bread is broken

and crumb from crumb

becomes loves token

I will love you.