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Being Itself

Being itself, boundless beyond all form Without any essence, soundless speaks Across the chaos of the raging waves Bringing every being out of nothing. Beauty itself, incomprehensible…

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Glass Stained

High rafters, vaulted ceiling, Light streaming through the wall, Beaming inside through angels, From outside where gargoyles crawl. Falling on the baptismal font, A shimmer is thereby…

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Of Rhyme

Chesterton wrote of the glory of rhyme. Nothing short, he says, of a hint of divine. It is everyman’s way to inspire to climb ever closer to…

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Book Launch

For David Chan When my friend and fellow-poet launched my latest book, reciting chosen bits and some whole poems, the customary gathered handful listened in respectful silence…

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The Clockmaker

O, what if we were wrong? What if the far-distant clockmaker, mechanical God, tick and tock taker, disdains efficiency, preferring song. All the pride of human wit,…

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Immunity

Passed by a hearse and a baby stroller In the course of a single morning And remembered even the bravest high-roller Ends in a state of mourning…

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Vine and Fruit

Like the fruit in the youthful Tree In the easterly garden long ago The Lord Jesus wants us to see The life-giving food He does bestow And…

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Thinning

Like the soles of beloved boots or a much worn and nose-blown hanky, so is the hope in permanent deferment.              …

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Man

Things created are works of art, None so beautiful as that of man, He is the crowning glory of creation, From the very moment time began.

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Beaver Pond

Gently we walk the path by beaver pond, amid bracken and brush, we are whirred by Egyptian-like plagues of blue-eyed, winged invertebrates. Not enough to break branch…

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