Sonnet

God so kindled the fire of charity in St George.
That he bore witness to the risen Lord.
Riding through the gorge.
He slew the dragon with lance and sword.

Christ is Risen, Воистину Воскрес! He is risen indeed.
Was the cry we heard in the Russian church today.
Христос воскресе. He is risen indeed.
Is there anymore we need say.

We know so little about Saint George save he was martyred.
Much is legend including the dragon.
But that is is faith, little is chartered.
Truth is halved then quartered.

But what the matter at the finish.
He is the patron saint of the English.

Haiku

Christ is risen now
He is risen indeed now
What else matters now

Sonnet

As a branch cannot bear fruit by itself.
Neither can you unless you remain in me.
We fear being left un-watered on the greenhouse shelf.
Ignored even by the searching worker bee.

Why are my dreams so lonely and sad.
Is it because I forget to pray at night.
We really aren’t that alone or so bad.
We are just to frail and prone to fright.

If only I could remember I am part of the vine.
I am a branch on a healthy plant.
Look for the multicoloured sign.
It is there, beautiful, ignore the can’t.

We will never be cut away and thrown into the fire.
For lifting us from the mire , he plays us gently on his lyre.

Haiku

Never cut away
We remain in the true vine
Not thrown in the fire

Sonnet

Let your face shine upon your servant.
You hide them in the shelter of your presence.
Is life reserved for the observant.
How do we come into your omnipresence.

What happens to the soul after death.
Are these near death experiences proof.
What happens in the hours after our last breath.
Away from our body does our soul see, hear and stand aloof.

I doubt all these experiences, are they truly undeniable.
They all seem to talk of earthly beauties and cities.
Surely heaven is infinite, indescribable.
Utterly separate from earth’s cares and duties.

I prefer to put my trust in one who was dead for three days.
Then many witnesses testified he was alive, as bright as the sun’s rays.

Haiku

The soul after death
Does it live on conscious
We know there was one who did

Sonnet

Lord let us see the Father.
And then we shall be satisfied.
We always demand to see further.
We suspect someone has lied.

He has been here all this time.
And we still do not know Him.
We do not recognise the sublime.
He is here and He is his limb.

If we ask for anything in His name.
He will do it.
This is truth and no mere claim.
We only have to ask for His permit.

But we’re like Philip, as he did so doubtfully say.
We don’t recognise the truth, the life and the way.

Haiku

If only we knew
The way, the truth, and the life
But the truth is there

Sonnet

Every branch in me that bears no fruit.
He cuts away.
He discards it if there is no fruit.
But all our worries He thus does lay.

My old apple tree sprouts in summer.
Too seldom do I prune it.
Few are its fruit before winter.
And they are not by sweetness lit.

But there is the great vine at Hampton Court.
Over 250 years old.
Time is in its passing wrought.
Its story many times told.

We must prune and give.
And not keep if we are to live.

Haiku

Prune the tree often
If it is to give some fruit
By cutting we give

Sonnet

Proclaim the mighty works of him.
Who called you into his wonderful light.
The child sits just beyond the candle light’s rim.
But clearly in our sight.

This is a picture of the dignity of the worker.
Entitled to fair treatment.
True work is not for the materialist shirker.
For it is a part of God’s work defying mistreatment.

The worker is lit by light.
He must not be oppressed.
For the same light illumines the night.
And bathes in gentle white and yellow the blessed.

We see the light through his hands.
And we know where truth stands.

Haiku

Light behind the hands
Illumines them in fair glow
Like all the true light