Sonnet

Is it against the law on the Sabbath day to save life.
But they said nothing.
Why sometimes with scoffers is silence so rife.
Is it left to unclean spirits to say something.

I am looking at Richter’s Crossing the Elbe.
The ferry with people of all ages.
Is it a ship of life on the stream of time; Nein, es ist nicht dasselbe.
No it’s not the same, it’s not the ferryman of life and death collecting his wages.

On the ferry the harp plays in the dying sun’s rays.
There is little talk.
But a sense of peace pervades.
A motif of romanticism, at which there is nothing to balk.

I wish I could be taken gently by time’s stream.
And view all life like a distant dream.

Haiku

It’s a ship of life
Now carrying all ages
In a stream of time

Sonnet

I lie half awake thinking about this verse.
In the beginning was the Word.
It seems to say everything though it’s so terse.
So God was with the Word and God was the Word.

I have been struggling with how the maker of billions of stars.
Could come to earth as man.
But the truth is ours.
It is in the word, this was always the plan.

How could God communicate with me.
Save through the word.
It’s all there in scripture, finally I can see.
In my hand I grasped this little gem of truth’s bird.

So it is the Word.
And before my vision was merely blurred.

Haiku

So it is the Word
Before my sight was just blurred
Truly I can see

Sonnet

Almighty ever-living God.
Who governs all things both in Heaven and on Earth.
If true we stand truly awed.
If only we could believe you give a safe birth.

But I watched on television death and hatred in a Honduras jail in crisis.
In another programme I marvelled at the nine billion years more of life of our solar system.
Are you really responsible for all this.
Do you give life to every ecosystem.

In seven billion years.
Earth will be swallowed by the red giant sun to become mere grimed dust.
Fire will burn away every atom and all tears.
We were born, we die, we live again as star dust.

But then today alone, quiet, barely perceived.
I felt your presence and believed.

Haiku

Quiet barely unseen
Alone I felt Your presence
And believed truly

Sonnet (Psalm 40, KJV)

He brought me also out of an horrible pit.
Out of the miry clay.
A candle need never expire once lit.
Our walk may hold sway.

Go and lie down and if someone calls say.
Speak Lord, your servant is listening.
Do we listen by night and by day.
Out there is a mist bound truth glistening.

I was sitting alone today in the church.
My mind full of irritation.
Was I to left in the lurch.
Would I ever arrive at a peaceful station.

But his words gladden the heart.
To pierce the encircling January gloom, a light filled dart.

Haiku

A horrible pit
He brought me out of mired clay
If I just listen

—

Mind irritation
Now His words my heart gladdened
I am not alone

It is not the healthy that need the doctor.
But the sick.
Who is our proctor.
Are we the dead or the quick.

I dreamt I was cycling with my grandchild.
In this heavenly slipstream.
No one and no thing riled.
We all were in one stream.

The word cuts like any double edged sword.
But more finely.
For it is the word of the Lord.
Between soul and spirit it searches keenly.

But once I am conscious.
I lose the hope of the unconscious.

Haiku

Cycling with granddaughter
In this heavenly slipstream
No one or thing riled

He Word of the Lord
Cuts through like a two-edged sword
But more finely

Sonnet

I was day dreaming, worrying absently.
Calamitous events, violence, accident, shame.
And then I realised, I am seventy, old age knocking and not so faintly.
A final calamitous event is fast approaching, all the same.

Am I going to wake up in a Renaissance painting masterpiece.
The Tuscan lit Virgin there before me.
Am I going to rise up all in one piece.
Or just an everlasting instant of glorious light is what I shall see.

And this body I pamper.
Washing caring, clothing.
Will lie rotting in that cold churchyard in soil’s dark deep layer.
How I dislike and shudder at that cold earth unsparing.

Or is this reported near death light just physical.
Hey, ho, no matter, it is by all accounts beautiful.

Haiku

At death what awaits
Glorious light everlasting
Or just then nothing

Sonnet

Harden not your hearts as at Meribah.
As on that day at Massah in the desert.
Sometimes in dreams you can see far.
Sleeping you can still be alert.

This psalm the first sung in the morning.
Always brings memories of sleepy dawn monastery matins.
And joy awakening.
English vernaculars surfacing out of the Latins.

I dreamt last night I was walking in a city.
I passed an ancient beautiful synagogue.
I hesitated to enter, more the pity.
Here was some long lost truth I could not fathom through time’s fog.

And then this evening I sat alone in the darkening church.
Here was an atmosphere leaden with joyous mysticism to aid my search.

Haiku

Heart at Meribah
On that lost day at Massah
In the far desert

Sonnet

He set free all those who had been held in slavery.
All their lives through fear of death.
It is fear of annihilation that tests our bravery.
We are slaves to fear about that last breath.

I dreamt last night I was hiding someone.
But from what and who.
And was it myself or no one.
I had no idea what to do.

Death is so mysterious.
Is it annihilation or new life.
Utter silence or happiness so delirious.
But any way freedom from strife.

The priest told us at Mass today that we would live.
But I only know for sure that for the present I shall continue to strive.

Haiku

Death so mysterious
Annihilation now
Or new life ever

Sonnet

If he has put him in command of everything.
He has left nothing which is not under his command.
To whose praise should we sing.
God of everything in hand.

We barely comprehend.
Who has control.
Who can break and mend.
Or how we can be made whole.

What is man that you should spare a thought for him.
The Son of Man that you should care for him.
No, we are not here by some whim.
We are a holy limb.

But only if there is a god for whom everything exists.
And through Whom everything exists.

Haiku

Yes a god for all
That exists and yes for Whom
Everything exists

Upon a lofty throne I saw a man seated
Whom a host of angels adore singing in unison.
This all I can see, he has created.
But can I put all doubt to confusion.

I dreamt that I was lonely.
Standing at the end of a deep pit.
Myself still only.
All was grey grit.

My children came.
I could move with them on shoulders.
Flowers now made that place aflame.
We were now of a future beholders.

But now I was old, my path strewn with boulders.
I could only move on their shoulders.

Sonnet

No sooner had he come from the water.
He saw the heavens torn apart.
The plain I was in was flat, dismal, a seeming backwater.
Seemingly a place of no beauty or art.

Miles, the car had descended.
Deep down towards the Dead Sea, a world away from lush Galilee.
Here was suffocating heat and comfort ended.
With this blinding light we could scarcely see.

The walk without shade to the Baptism site.
Then standing alone by the insignificant twenty foot wide river.
All now was shady cool and gently bright.
History unfurled, here was the giver.

I washed my feet in the water’s slow stream.
A time to dream.

Haiku

I washed my hot feet
At the shady baptism site
A time now to dream

Sonnet

Since God loved us so much.
We too should love one another.
His is so light a touch.
To all can we not be sister and brother.

To love God is easy.
To love all is so hard.
Even to acknowledge someone who has harmed you is queasy.
We have constantly to be on our guard.

So if we love one another.
God will live in us.
But so many are to us just the other.
It is and always has been thus.

But should we not know this because we share His loving spirit.
If we just listen we may hear it.

Haiku

God will live in us
But many are just other
Just listen and hear

Sonnet

God is love.
God’s love for us was revealed.
A fluttering dove.
A compact sealed.

But love is a concept.
Can God be an idea.
Difficult to accept.
But it is wisdom, Sophia.

Is God, more, all seeing.
More than a virtue.
More than a being.
With his love nothing can hurt you.

So love became real.
In his son so that we may live and feel.

Haiku

So Love became real
In His Son so that we live
And so that we feel

Sonnet

The people that lived in darkness has seen a great light.
On those who dwell in the land and shadow of death a light has dawned.
This is the message of right not might.
And this birth of light was forewarned.

C рождеством.S Rojdyeh stvom.
Happy Russian Christmas.
It passes, the storm.
Hope and rebirth are and should be our business.

We stand in the Orthodox service.
Here is a full panoply of senses.
Incense, chant, a balm to stop us being life nervous.
Breaking down our reasoned defences.

But in the end it is this word that counts, to this we are sworn.
For us a Child is born.

Haiku

It’s the Word that counts
It’s for us a Child is born
To this we are sworn

Sonnet

All are assembling and coming towards you.
Your sons from far away.
From all corners of the world the wind blew.
This was the centre of the Universe on this glorious day.

People concentrate on the stature of the three kings.
But isn’t the real point that the first pilgrims came from all peoples.
This was to be a faith spread on distant wings.
Soaring like eagles.

It started with the humblest of followers.
The shepherds came first.
Then every faith and creed became wallowers.
All for truth had this insatiable thirst.

Can we too welcome people from far away.
Just seekers like us are they.

Haiku

Welcome far people
Just seekers like us for truth
So like us are they

Sonnet

My children, do not let anyone lead you astray.
To live a holy life.
Fast fails the day.
Ending all strife.

I was dreaming of the future of oblates.
If the monks leave an abbey for elsewhere.
Perhaps they should open heart’s gates.
They could continue to pray and sing the office there.

Was not St Benedict a layman at first.
Can there not be more of a role for lay people.
Can they not too for commitment thirst.
Can they not climb faith’s steeple.

There may be an important role with full involvement.
But that does not affect their full commitment.

Haiku

Not full involvement
But yet still full commitment
If thirst to commit

In pricipio erat verbum et verbum erat apud deum.
Et deus erat verbum.
This voice will never be dumb.
Maranatha, come lord, come.

Last night I had three dreams on being subject to control.
I was in a medieval village, which I could not leave without the lord’s blessing.
I was in a queue of MPs waiting to vote, stockpiled like sheep on parole.
And I was on a lonely island seeing a rescue ship arrive yet being happy remaining.

It is better to stick to the basics and have this lightning rod.
In the beginning was the word.
And the word was with God and the word was God.
Really everything else is faintly absurd.

Obseculta O fili praecepta magistri et incline aurem cordis tui.
Listen son and turn the ear of your heart to the precepts of your master, all else is hooey.

Haiku

In principio
Erat verbum et verbum
Erat apud God

Sing a new song to the Lord for he has worked wonders.
His right hand and his holy arm have brought salvation.
We hope and pray he will resolve all our blunders.
His voice will carry to every nation.

I was dreaming something virtuous, a true industrious worker bee.
Then my thoughts descended into pain.
I pictured our mental gaze as a many branched tree.
Thoughts can wander off into regret wherever they can find some stain.

Or our initial benign thought is like our wrist.
In a moment it can travel down any of our five fingers in any direction.
But as pain engulfs us we can order it to desist.
Wrenching it back to benign love despite our dark side’s objection.

Did the saints have to struggle so.
Did they like us start every day anew rising then laid low.

Haiku

Did saints struggle so
Start every day anew rise
Then laid low again

Today a light will shine upon us.
For the Lord is born for us.
We may endlessly probe, question and discuss.
But in reality it is, will be and always has been thus.

Last night at the dying of the year I watched a candle burn down to the wick.
Once so strong, so straight, now the flame wavered and died.
And the new candles burned bright, oblivious to their colleague being so sick.
But one day that fate will befall them too despite their pride.

But in that last brief splutter.
I took the flame still bright.
And passed it on easily and without even a stutter.
And so it continued reborn, that light.

Thus our life and light will fade and die with scarcely a sigh.
But our flame will live on to the new year and for ever, our end really is not nigh.

John 1 1-18

All that came to be had life in him.
And this life was the light of men.
Through the East window I seemed to see the sun rise over the earth’s rim.
The light changed from grey to iridescent orange in the count of ten.

At mass today my heart awakened during the reading of John One.
In the beginning was the word and this was belief’s beginning.
For me this spiritual light came from this word and shone more fiercely than the Sun.
Slowly, imperceptibly conviction grew during the reading.

This physical light is dimming.
But the spiritual light stays.
One is fitful passing.
But for the other, eternal are it’s rays.

No darkness can ever overpower it.
Give us strength to witness it.

I am writing to you father who has come to know the one from the beginning.
I am writing to you young men who have already overcome the evil one.
With age soon comes the reckoning.
Fast fades the sun.

I pray that one day I will believe totally.
For the present I just try.
I can follow loyally.
Yet, I cannot yet accept, I cry.

What did St Hippolytus say, our faith was not founded on an empty word.
Nor are we carried away by mere caprice or beguiled by specious argument.
God was hungry and thirsty, his vision in passion blurred.
Tried and executed yet innocent.

Only when we know this true God will our souls become immortal.
Yet how long will I have to search before I know that celestial portal.

In the presence of Kings, O Lord, I will declare your will.
For your commands have been my delight.
We search for truth as through a shuttered grille.
But one thing is certain might is not right.

Two Thomases, One Archbishop in his cathedral.
One Chancellor.
The first beloved of his people.
The second wise counsellor.

Where today are those prepared to stand up to secular power.
Where now can we find a martyr.
A light in a distant tower.
Is conformity or principle smarter.

The martyrs now are in Asia, Africa, and the Middle East.
We in Europe for the most part, care not the least.

The innocents were slaughtered as innocents for Christ.
Spotless they follow the lamb and sing for ever.
No life however small can ever be priced.
Only can God life sever.

Imagine a world where all life is held precious.
The enemies, the criminals.
The tiny unwanted unborn, the old costly and frail.
Where to all we can be gracious.
They are all imperfect yet originals.

Treasure living.
Reject killing.
Protect from suffering.
Renounce abandoning.

Easy words but how readily we fall short.
How easy it is to follow convenience and abort.

Now master let your servant go in peace, because my eyes have seen your salvation.
Which you have prepared for all the nations to see, a light, the glory of Israel.
The sign gives hope but cannot remove temptation.
Not the smallest part of our life is immaterial.

What is the difference between meditation and contemplation.
Meditation is something we have to work out.
As gentle as dew falling on a summer morning is contemplation.
Enlightenment is always there, we do not need to seek it out.

I was dreaming now, rain spattered on the roof, the harsh wind blew.
Worries, regrets surfaced as always and came and went.
Then I saw as if for real, there fell a heavenly soothing dew.
This was no longer a gusting winter storm outside, summer, its warmth had sent.

There was no need to water faith’s garden.
I had only need to ask for pardon.

I can see heaven thrown open.
And the son of man standing at the right hand of God.
Hope and open means hopen.
Out of tragedy comes hope’s fleeting nod.

I lay awake disappointed in what I had achieved.
And then I thought, why worry, soon all this will be at an end.
Why worry, the soul has different wants it wants received.
It’s not what the body wants that we must tend.

So why not look after what will last.
The soul will, the body won’t.
Perhaps we should stick to our last.
Certainly you will always be unhappy if you don’t.

So what will let the soul rise to life eternal like a dove.
It is love.