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Poems and Thoughts

The Northern Hoarfrost

And our dead frozen in time

Stilled into clarity

On that grey day

Scattered upon our horizon

Where the Northern mockingbird

Vocalises their multitute of songs

Raising up into eternity

And wide into our visual embrace

To hold close their memory

Depositing pure spirit to lead us

From pain to vision

A pierced heart giving new wonder

New revelation

To penetrate God's vast treasures

And energise our daily rising

              Catching my Breath

I catch my breath and absorb its freedom

To muse on you

My vapours bellow out

Merging with the great I AM

an atmoshereic union of oxidated life

Particles mixing, purifying

Sin suspended and dissipated

By the air's embace

Your presence enveloping my being

And filling my hunger for freshness

Drawing in from nature's beauty

The green life

Converting my polluted voice and

Giving sap for new, sweet song

To praise God with trills of higher notes.


To see your weeping eyes

To feel your pain upon

That public post

The shame, the fear, the



Oh! This dark night

When desert sands blind

Your vision and beat against

Your tired face


Cold comfort in your nakedness

Exposed to only your nothingness

Nada-your downing moan



Upon his empty stage you wait

Lost,broken, deserted

Point me north in this abyss

Soften my wounded heart

With gentle reminders of warmth.


from The Cry of My Soul






      Crown of Thorns

For all the fallen in war


Rememberance Day

Upon these grimy sacrifical corpses

Tangled in the mud of earth's putrid sin

Cascades fresh wild flowers - daises, violets and wild roses

From the heavenly court

Scattered softly by gentle clean hands

And from angelic vision

Floods of pure tears to soak thia earth

A deluge of passion!

Distant screams rock the twilight


Living sacrifices naked, stripped and raw

Their unique tears infusing the Bloody stains

As in the paschal drink

Quenching the thirsty world

God's pain ful arrow opening again

buried riches of gold and silver

Hidden in the deep brown clay of earthly indifference.

See our mourning and weeping in this Vale of tears

For all those massacred in war

Bathe now your feet in the pool of these tears

O Virgin Queen

On the mystic isle where

Your lighted footsteps now tread

portrait of my mum.JPG

Portrait of My Mum

                  Snow Again

On the death of my mother 9/1/2018

And with her passing

My wintry heart

Reaps solace in the 

magic of Snowfall

Absorbing me in the beauty

Communing with her eternity

A heavenly touch of connection

With the wonders she now beholds

Refined and purified as the snowflake

her crystal lattice of soul

melts into oneness

Echoes of another loss

My heart endured

Again lifting mourning into

Unearthly delight

God's hand staving the pain

With a silent stillness

To hear the moment.

And a blanket to wrap me

In the mystery of the cross.

 The Fruit of Suffering

 A suffering made good,

When head and feet,

Ripen their fruit

Earth's gift, heaven's brain

A living sacrifice,

Expiring in the raging heat

Of creeping survival,

Amid lashes and deep cuts

Upon 'The Way'

Yet, I remain.

Awake to that vision,

Eyes penetrate to see-

A church refreshed with

Our blood upon that cross

He and I, We-

Made dead to their world.


from Containing the Dream

               The Spirit Trail

There falls a deeper silence

Holding me in precious light

Flashes dancing, with electric

Force of wonder

Pulling my watered eye

To stare at spirit tail into

Your heart

Darts cutting through mystery

Opening routes into the hidden way

For me to find you

Stillness alive with eternity

Present to my iniquity

Slowing my breath

Into healing

In time with your perfection

Deep sighs regenerating my being

To walk into reality again

Where night meets day

In me in you

Giving fragile wholeness to our perplexity

And new clarity to come.


         The Appearance

That longed for feminine goal

Stretch out and lift high


A wooded hide

Reds, greens yellows, golds

Falling from an upright tower

Mary, Virgin most wild

Raindrops of perpetual cleaning

Upon your feet.


Through the grove

Seeking light for a heavenly connection

Come out, burst forth!

Radiance appearing

A open face confronting

A world made ready.


from Containing the Dream

 "the sensitivity of beauty touches the soul in a pure and special way."

                         " to lift oneself to a high plane-a heavenly reality were good exists-surely this should be encouraged."    

               (writing extracts, 1991)

"I believe contemplation, direct experience of God and sensitivity to beauty will gradually deepen and purify our interior lives expressed in word, image and music in a world purged by suffering to give a new tomorrow" 

"Christ has always been the sweet piercing sound in my heart and my beloved" (2023)

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