When the Soul Cried Out for Meaning
As winter thors over hallowed grounds
six nations wait on thunder pounds.
In the cold air - an ancient battle call.
In pain or glory - anthems sang loud,
anthems stood tall.
Red and Blue - marching separate toward
the same fight.
Emerald Green or blood stained White.
Flowing through the veins - a stubborn pride.
A broken line, a wounded stride.
Six nations - one burning aim.
The honour to lift - rugby's finest flame.
Before the cards, the wine, the flowers.
A courages soul, love has powers.
In Romes dark days the faith is banned.
A Priest stood strong in loves own hand.
In a secret vow of incense flare.
Married as one he did dare.
In prison he prayed, in death he proved.
That Christ is love, love unremoved.
So with every rose and poem we send.
remember our faith, our spirited friend.
In the season of love birds...
St. Valentine is more than art...
A sacrifice, a daring heart.
Bacon butties, no rush to go
talksport on, time moves slow.
Children's stories gather near,
laughing brings a weekend cheer.
Wintry walks, the world is right,
Saturday hums with golden light.
Sunday church bells chime in tune.
Soft lit mornings, afternoon.
A grace before the week resumes,
in weekend cheer the moment blooms.
In a dark room breaths breach the silence.
The unseen gathers, the gnashing of violence.
Orisons, just cries in the wilderness?
Fear to gag the wounded soul. Villainous!
I reach for a match and the incense burns.
I invoke the Jesus prayer. Bravery churns.
Incense rising, delivering my prayers to heaven.
Peace returns, no best of seven.
Midnight chanting - Tears drying in the dark.
East face fasting - Seeing no morning - No man apart.
Chains now prayer ropes - Not one ask why.
Lord have mercy - No light in the sky.
Not suffering more - Just suffering towards.
With Psalms - Not swords.
Aim is clear - Not peaceful.
Screaming rage through tears pull.
Still suffering towards - No turning away.
Even crawling to death they know Christ - The only way.
The lad, the no income bard.
And love just don't cut it,
when times get hard.
She thanked me for the laughs,
rhymes, and the billet-doux.
But I'm a silk stocking girl,
that needs more than you.
In a silent shrug I understood.
Still had my hair, still a handsome
young blood.
Just one of those times life sends
you back home.
To pick up a pen and write alone.
This one you won, I'm to blame.
If you think I'm conquered its you,
that's insane.
Just a mere battle, admittedly
you battled well.
I succumbed, I tasted hell.
Do not exult for long.
For this sorry state I'm much
too strong.
Resilient, fought for an age in time.
This aint my first pen, this aint
the first line.
Now in His name, contemplate your
retreat.
I'm in Him. Him you can not defeat.
The conclusion your demise.
no pain, no suffering.
All will realise.
I didn't know loneliness had a sound.
Then the prison door slammed,locked.
Isolation vibrated up through the ground.
The world left but the pain stayed throughout the night.
Hours dripped slowly from the ceiling. I crave them like a lover, her skin... I invite.
No Priest - So the cold steel bars hear the whisper of my confession.
Time slows enough for the truth to catch up, hurt slackens the aggression.
In the feeling of loneliness,
Flickers a flame of holiness.
Death shown me the way.
Never would I have written a sentence.
If I did not know, I'd die someday.
So I be where... they don't understand.
With the ease of the piper and the armies band.
Yes one day, I'll be gone.
My words though for them... will carry on.
There's a boy I know called Theo.
He's strong, with a roar like lion called Leo.
His Mummy made dinner with lots of carrots - Theo got mad.
And said some things which made her sad.
He later calmed, said "sorry Mummy",
"but those carrots, aren't going in my tummy".
"I'm a lion, all I want upon my plate.
Sausage 'N' Chips, and juicy steak".
"So stop repeating like a parrot.
Feed my brother with your carrot".
"His name is Reg, he loves his veg".
But I do not! I'd rather eat his snot".
"When Daddy gets back, from the pub.
He will bring back proper grub".
"Chicken 'N' Chips, in him I'm trusting.
as those carrots you've made, are bloody disgusting".
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