Poems

I went back you know, and it wasn’t scary at all All of the shapes and noises that made me so scared are just trees and birds and squirrels What was there to be scared of? Yet I was scared – more scared than I’d

What score could record the notes of my three score years and ten? What notes could tell the tale of a life lived in many ways? It would begin with one exultant chord of love and then fall almost into silence… a single note, becoming

Well? A Dialect Poem by GA Studdert-Kennedy – Known in WW1 as Woodbine Willie Our Padre were a solemn bloke, We called ‘im dismal Jim. It fairly gave ye t’ bloomin’ creeps, To sit and ‘ark at ‘im, When he were on wi’ Judgment Day,

I was angry that you were asleep on the boat, As the waves came crashing, I didn’t dare rouse you, But clung to the side, Eyes closed, rocked and tossed, Trying not to be sick. Yes, even the wind and waves obey you, So, were

This poem is a slightly different version to the one Jesus tells in Luke 14:15-24. A certain man was preparing a great banquet and invited many guests. At the time of the banquet he asked his supervisor to tell everyone who had been invited “Come

Where are the crowds, The people waving branches and palms? Church buildings sit in silence, No procession or singing of hosanna, And yet, listen…. Voices in homes lifting praise, Folding palm crosses in living rooms, Waving and jumping and shouting, Hosanna to the King! And

Three times I’d seen him since that wonderful and confusing day Three times I’d tried to avoid his gaze to look away from him as I did that night Three times I saw him looking at me with wondering eyes Three times my heart burned

The Morning of Eternity by Susan Lenzkes Recorded by members of the Church Family at All Saints for the Lockdown Easter of 2020.

I don’t feel ready for Easter Sunday, Lord. I’m still in a Good Friday mood. Thinking about despair, Abandonment, Loss, Carrying a cross, Suffering and pain. Thinking about the disciples, Bewilderment, incomprehension, Fear. I don’t feel ready for Easter Sunday, Lord. I don’t want to