I never loved
Til I did
I never loved again
Til when I did
And then I never did again
Until maybe now
I might

so much splendor we cannot picture
waving beyond our spectrum

so many hymns we cannot hear
pitched outside our range

so much love we cannot bear
unbearably tender

but one day we’ll see more clearly
hear more keenly
and love more fully

one day …

The rabbits sit smoking their pipes
content in their shared space,
like there’s nothing that can move them
unless they acquiesce,
like they have no better things to do
than do exactly what they’re doing
and they’re doing what they do best

- contemplate the next word, the next refrain,
the next sweep of their pen, the next throw of the clay
and the colour they have chosen to inject into the next page,
the next dye, the next stitch, beat, thread, chapter, adventure
that their maker has placed in their minds eye

and it’s then that I realise that in every moment together
they’re carefully holding a myriad of holy inspirations
and contemplating their ordering
so that beauty may abound
so that their beautiful God
may breath out yet more of the Creation.

He set out the long, round table
Sufficiently spatial for a up close wedding supper
with the family reclining,
face to face, facing the King,
with room for eternity

I don’t do sides
–--- I’ve chosen my side
at least not yours
–--- and it’s not yours
They’re too far apart
–--- I choose peace
and no thread will mend
---- it’s not yours to decide
the chasm you defend
---- this choice is mine

The invisible, red chair
sat screaming, pleading, bleeding
and a priest walked past on the other side, preferring his pew.
So too, a curate saw the chair and with a moment’s pause
moved on, and unfolded a meditation stool.
Then later in the day, after many had almost seen and chose to pass,
a red-ribboned refugee stopped and saw
and she wept with the chair til sundown.

I've collated my various poetryverses on one website nottoopoetry.com