Sonnet

He had a dream, a ladder was there.
With its top reaching heaven and angels going up and down.
It seems so difficult to climb, we shed a tear.
We feel in our own inadequacy, we are ready to drown.

Angels can, if they want, fly.
We have to climb wearisome step by step.
How will we ever get to the top we sigh.
And won’t we fall with one just misstep.

We just hold the ground we stand on.
We can neither walk nor run.
But our hearts can climb to a new dawn.
We are just blinded by our material sun.

I am still only on the first rung.
With fear my heart is wrung.

Haiku

The ladder is there
We must have courage to climb
Is it really hard

Sonnet

To stop me getting too proud.
I was given a thorn in the flesh.
I know sometimes I speak too loud.
I feel myself caught in pride’s mesh.

At Mass the Covid marshal was bossy.
I felt like biting my wrist.
Why do we all have to be such a sissy.
Why can’t we stay in spiritual mist.

If you control people’s lives.
You only create hypocrites.
That is the only sin that survives.
Now we can’t even be moralists.

The only rule, don’t break the rules of the state.
I must be calm and try not be too irate.

Haiku

Control people’s lives
We all become hypocrites
Cry freedom for all

St Thomas the Apostle

Sonnet

You believe because you can see me.
Happy are those who have not seen and yet believe.
Often it is not what you are told but what you can see.
It is not what you have heard but what you receive.

I was sitting alone in the church putting truth through the mill.
I looked through the window, a cowed mooed, a cock crowed.
In the deep silence the air suddenly felt heavy and still.
I felt a presence. I did not need to rationalise or be persuaded.

Faith is not something that can be proved.
It is a hard to touch feeling.
It comes and goes, transient, nothing is ever solved.
It is less a question of knowing, more a path of seeking.

I left the church revived.
The doubts also revived.

Haiku

Faith cannot be proved
It is surely transient
It has to be felt

Sonnet

It is not the healthy who need the doctor.
But the sick.
I need a good proctor.
Maybe a bit of a kick.

Where has my faith gone.
Why is it so weak.
Where is the new dawn.
Why do I still seek.

That’s why I need his help.
I cannot do it on my own.
I am wading through kelp.
I feel so lone.

Please help me.
So that I may see.

Haiku

Am I then alone
Or can I count on his help
Perhaps then I can

Sonnet

Which is easier to say, get up and walk.
Or your sins are forgiven.
Some like me do little but talk.
Others into martyrdom are driven.

I often rest awhile beside Oliver Plunket’s tomb.
At Downside it is raised up on pillars high.
Here the shadows of an unforgiving past loom.
But here was a man’s conscience that could not lie.

He could have remained quietly a professor at Rome.
But treaded fearlessly the fields and ways of Ireland.
Convicted on false testimony he died far from home.
And the last to have blood cleaned by the gibbet’s sand.

I freely admit I do and would have compromised.
Doing only what was and is authorised.

Haiku

Do we die for faith
Do most of us compromise
That is always thus

Sonnet

The slave girl’s son I will also make into a nation.
For he is your child too.
The promise to Abram remains through all creation.
And it applies to us too.

The second best is just as best.
We all deserve an equal chance.
God didn’t just leave the baby to be laid to rest.
Can we not see this at a glance.

The desert child was wailing.
God heard him calling.
He ended his suffering.
He kept him growing.

When the second best call.
We can stand then just as tall.

Haiku

In our own desert
God hears us calling to him
Then he will respond

Sonnet

When Peter saw this he fell at Jesus’ knees.
And said “Go away from me, Lord, I am a sinful man”.
For his great faith given the sacred keys.
Had not everything been given by this humble man.

We who still run the race.
Let us have such humility.
Pray that we can keep up with the pace.
And despite all achieve some serenity.

We do have the faith of Peter’s preaching.
We lack the power of Paul’s teaching.
We plodders just keep going.
We can only just go on searching.

One day we will arrive at the finish breathless.
And we will be asked where was your faithfulness.

Haiku

We still run the race
We have a long way to go
To find faithfulness

Sonnet

Foxes have holes and the birds of the air have nests.
But the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.
But who is he, how do we resolve these tests.
Did he really rise from the dead.

Is he wholly divine.
Or wholly human.
Or both human and divine.
Or some kind of superhuman.

I like to think he is all of these.
And certainly the saviour of the world.
A single sacrifice to pay all our fees.
To the winds then doubt and fear hurled.

We could like the Councils grapple with this to make sense.
Better just to have faith in what to us makes sense.

Haiku

Only a human
Or he is a power God
Can he not be both

Sonnet

Death was not God’s doing.
He takes no pleasure in extinction of the living.
Are we then the victim of Adam’s fruit picking.
But for him would our life here just keep going.

But what would immortality serve.
It would only work in a world unfalled.
So we exist in extinction’s curve.
Dreading death, fearing being called.

Does lingering life ever serve happiness.
In long years of frailty do we grow.
Love life, accept death’s witness.
Like wheat, die so you can sow.

If only we could accept this leap.
We would not, in trembling, weep.

Haiku

Our extinction
Is that God’s plan for us all
Just after the fall

Sonnet

Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Do not judge and you will not be judged.
How often do we stand alone.
Our spirit by criticism crushed.

When we disapprove of someone.
Ask if we have not been there.
We may not even have been such a one.
But maybe in our hearts we were tempted to be there.

Can we not be more like the centurion.
Not even daring to ask him under our roof.
More forgiving less Puritan.
More caring and less aloof.

I say this then I read the newspaper.
Eager like the rest to titter.

Haiku

If we judge others
They have the right to judge us
Better to forgive

Sonnet

Thy wife shall be as a fruitful vine by the sides of thine house.
Thy children like olive plants around thy table.
She’s always right, so let’s not grouse about the spouse.
All life is here as in an inevitable and true fable.

They say that the lord is the strength of the people.
But the family united is the strength of the nation.
Even on a hard path we can see this far away like a steeple.
This is true through every calm and every agitation.

There is a vine growing on the outside of my cottage.
Sometimes, all enveloping, it must needs be cut back.
It may not always be fruitful but it is always there in full wattage.
It is just green and healthy, neither white nor black.

So the psalm is right.
Let’s keep it in sight.

Haiku

Yes the psalm is right
True, The wife is always right
Better obey her

Sonnet

I am not the one you imagine me to be.
There is one coming, I am not fit to undo his sandal.
Knowing our own worthlessness is the key.
And if we know how we can turn the handle.

I often wonder what is this essence, I call me.
The answer seems tantalisingly close.
But I know it is not actually what others see.
Perhaps it needs some common sense dose.

John knew that all is not as it seems.
This, our life passes into something greater.
That is why he sought the desert in his dreams.
His body was not what was important to his maker.

But we, others, do not have such faith to proclaim.
We live consciously in a material world where all is lame.

Haiku

Only in desert
Is all clear to see and hear
Save in our mirage

Sonnet

Any tree that does not produce good fruit is cut down.
You will be able to tell them by their fruit.
We know we reap what we have sown.
But all that we should do does not us suit.

I have brown fingers.
My vegetable patch is pitiful.
It’s only a weed that lingers.
How dare I ever be critical.

We should look up to heaven, its great glories.
And like Abram count the stars.
They could be a thousand times seven.
Recounting a million stories.

Pity about the Tesco’s superstore’s solution.
Ruining the show in this rural spot with light pollution.

Haiku

Look up to the skies
Hid by light pollution
It could be ended

Sonnet

With the increase in lawlessness.
Love in most men will grow cold.
We all feel this certain restlessness.
Routine envelopes us like clinging mould.

The rules of the church are hard.
But they have all been thought through.
Many will fall away, others may be barred.
But with tolerance, they are society’s glue.

What is the best thing a father for his children can do.
It is to love their mother for ever unreservedly.
We may fail in most things but this we should try to do.
I accept for me it had been easy to love my love profoundly.

But if we live virtuously we can claim no credit.
We have just been lucky in life’s credit and debit.

Haiku

If a father loves
A child’s mother with true heart
That is best to do

Sonnet

Let me take the splinter out of your eye.
All the time there is a plank in my own.
It’s so itchy this great plank I sigh.
Why are all these criticisms of others sown.

All day long I judge others.
And I know that I’m judged all day long.
Of course I know that judgement smothers.
Like a weary bell, dong, dong.

And then I fail to measure out.
Then complain of the amount given me.
Good deeds die in this selfish drought.
Of course I know all this is the key.

So I am useless at living this Gospel reading.
One day in another life I might have a go at succeeding.

Haiku

There is a great plank
It sits there in all our eyes
Where is the splinter

Sonnet

Then it began to blow a gale.
And the waves were breaking into the boat.
Sometimes we feel that we will not live to tell the tale.
We feel we can, on life’s turbulent sea, barely float.

But is there someone seemingly sleeping nearby.
Do we have faith that he will awaken.
We cannot see him anywhere in the sky.
But he will come if our hope is not shaken.

In my boat I only go out in a calm.
The wind barely ruffles my fears or sails.
The sky a gentle blue is mere balm.
Nothing in engine or rigging ever fails.

The truth is I only trust in myself, I do not have sufficient faith.
I don’t really believe he is there, my belief is a summer wraith.

Haiku

The storm hit the boat
The whole crew were terrified
They had not trusted

Sonnet

Think of the flowers growing in the fields.
They never have to work or spin.
Yet they have as much worth as goldfields.
They are without worry or sin.

Of course we should think of today.
Because tomorrow will look after itself.
All this stuff of today and flowers how easy to say.
But these fine sentiments sit on a dusty shelf.

Yet today I lay in a shallow calm North Sea.
Staring alone at scudding cloud and fitful sun.
I had no thought save for what I could feel and see.
There was nowhere and no need to hide or to run.

This is how it should be I am told.
But I got out, oh the water was so cold.

Haiku

Live just for today
Tomorrow cares for itself
The sea is just cold

Sonnet

I have been shipwrecked.
And once adrift for a night and a day.
So often in our life we are checked.
We find ourselves at bay.

Best then when we boast.
To boast of our own weakness.
Often we will not reach a friendly coast.
Better to accept it with meekness not bleakness.

Today I looked into the clothes cupboard.
And a moth flew cheekily out.
Nothing here will beat Old Mother Hubbard.
But of this I have no doubt.

There is little point in storing up treasure here.
It will all of it join us on our bier.

Haiku

Store up treasure here
All of it will die in flames
But not in heaven

Sonnet

I only wish you were able to tolerate.
A little foolishness from me.
I hope any readers will not berate.
And be forgiving is my plea.

I know my verse is rotten.
But I do my best.
It’s soon to be forgotten.
And barely able to pass the test.

But a bit of creative writing is good.
Even if no one reads it.
It lightens the mood.
And you feel you’ve done your bit.

So I will keep sighing and trying.
And try not to be too trying.

Haiku

Just be tolerant
Of all of my poor efforts
I just do my best

Sonnet

God loves a cheerful giver.
And there is no limit to blessings.
In the dream my wife asked me to be a caregiver.
I hesitated and she cut off love’s strings.

I apologised, she smiled.
I loved her, then I was irritated by someone being different.
But I understood them as they smiled.
Why, we should rejoice in people being different.

And then we are told to pray in a private place.
And to do almsgiving in secret.
All this is very difficult to accept, to leave no trace.
How difficult to do something and not to keep it.

So I will carry on quietly boasting.
And in the end receive my due roasting.

Haiku

To give in secret
Is so difficult to do
But better to do

Sonnet

Their constant cheerfulness and their intense poverty.
Have, through great suffering, overflowed in a wealth of generosity.
It’s easy for us to be cheerful in our prosperity.
I wonder what we would be like in the midst of some atrocity.

It is so easy for us to love those who love us.
No hardship to greet friends cheerfully.
But what about the irritating mobile on the bus.
Or the man asking for your pass, grumpily.

They all live under the sun.
The good, the bad, and the different.
They all have bad times and a bit of fun.
And they probably find us indifferent.

I will try not to look morose.
And take humility’s bitter dose.

Haiku

Love those who love us
That’s all so easy to do
But all the others?

Sonnet

We prove we are God’s servants.
By great suffering in times of distress.
Deep down in our psyche is disturbance.
Wounds fester there, hidden, let’s confess.

A small event, inconsequential rips away the sticking plaster.
Feeling, resentment or worse boils over, all is bleak.
And then into our shell we retreat further and further.
We find it impossible to turn the other cheek.

Our resentment does not hurt the other or make him broke.
It wounds only ourselves, if only we knew.
If he takes our tunic we will not give our cloak.
If he orders us to go one mile we will not go two.

But that’s easy to say, and alright for the few.
So difficult for the many and me to do.

Haiku

Turn the other cheek
Yes but it’s so hard to do
So we carry on

Sonnet

Once it is sown it grows into the biggest shrub of all.
And puts out big branches so that birds can shelter in shade.
And we too from the tiniest most unlifelike seed can grow tall.
We do not come from nothing, we are made.

It was dusk here and I was listening to the birds.
The chaffinch and her descending flourish of a song.
The mellow slow clear warble song of the blackbirds.
And the tree sparrow in her hedgerow and her tonal song.

I can look here for ash and sycamore but no mustard tree.
But It is not just large, it is invasive and hard to root out.
Thus like faith despite every setback, it endures to our glee.
This is all so true if only we could figure it out.

My own faith is just a seed but last night I prayed to Mary, fraught.
And I was enveloped in calm sheet and received what I sought.

Haiku

The Mustard tree grows
From just the tiniest seed
Into a great tree

Sonnet

The old creation has gone.
And now the new one is here.
I was walking along the road quietly alone.
With only quiet bird song coming to the ear.

Below me was a Lincolnshire chalk stream.
Above me the towering summer laden beech trees.
The light flickering on the surface in transcendent gleam.
The new brightly green leaves barely rustling in the breeze.

The water so shallow it barely covers the ankles.
The differing shades of brown shining under the surface.
Small rapids quickening the water, here nothing rankles.
Small insects dance in the sun turning to me her bright face.

Here I stood awhile alive only to present sound and sight.
Enjoying for a while the soon to pass bright evening light.

Haiku

Stream flowing in light
Alive just to sight and sound
Only birds calling

Sonnet

Christ May live in your hearts through faith, then built on love.
You will have strength to grasp the breadth, height, and length.
I was thinking of all the long dreary e-mails from UK dot gov.
And then in the church another thought came like a breath.

Not ten steps from here I might be dead and buried.
And tarry here a long while.
Suddenly I knew it was alright.
It was somewhere else that my true self would be carried.
I left that church with a smile.

These certainties only last for a moment.
But they are real and true for all that.
So it is through faith that we find atonement.
And then we set out again and all goes flat.

But then I looked at my wife as her emotion was held last night.
And knew that love grows and flies ever higher like a soaring kite.

Haiku

The moment was short
But yes in it I believed
Yes there was no doubt