Who is the man, this man of seasons?
Who is the man, this man of reason,
who thinks things through, considers all options,
who sees the clues and measures his actions?
Who is the man, whose passions run deep?
And of what does he dream, when silent in sleep?
Who is the man, this man of stature?
Ask his wife, who's lost in rapture.

Be glad and generous, smile and share.
Be glad and generous, devoted to prayer.  
Be glad and generous, breaks walls and bread.
Be glad and generous, and the Kingdom will spread.

Listen like you're deaf
Like your very breath is dependent on
turning up every sense to the maximum
become one with each and every sign
this aint a talkie so align your whole self
to complete concentration
embody the revelation
until you're full in the face of emotion.

Listen like you're deaf
and then you'll hear the whole person.

Speak like you're deaf
Like your very breath is dependent on
turning up every sense to the maximum
become one with each and every sign
this aint a talkie so align your whole self
to complete concentration
embody self revelation
until you've released full emotion.

Speak like you're deaf
and then you'll show the whole person.

Long distance gazing
exercises the imagination
filling the mind with out-of-reach thoughts
and within-our-grasp possibilities.
You need to pace yourself however.
Over-stretching can cause you to topple
into sorrow.

Short distance grinning
close up gawping
is bred from appreciation
for the unexpected
and creates opportunity
for shared mirth
and reflected smiles.
Over-stretching causes face ache
and further laughter.

The next time he killed me
I was ready for it
so I filmed it.
And whilst it still stung
I was able to ride the trauma
kept my good side to the camera
and the transition
whilst still in essence 'dying'
was kinda exciting.

I think the third time
might be even better
by some measure.
I'll have to wait
and see.

A stew of slow cookers
sit simmering
slowly brewing a communal stock,
seaping steam and aromas
which speak a seductive welcome
from doorstep to table
and whisper a warm, rich reassurance
that this is home

Take your place amongst the brave ones
The take-a-chance ones
The get-up-despite
and try-it-again ones.

Take your place amongst the daughters and sons
living post-lockdown
and let's run.

Then I fell.
I had been so sure of the path
I had mapped
I had planned
I had plotted a route
for my solo adventure
and then I fell
on both my feet

- all because of you

Spring is a doing word
- quietly, softly, resolutely
repeatedly springing up
through the heavy clay
springing forward
past these ground hog days
offering an initiation rite
of colour, warmth and new light.

Spring is a doing word
- so do it right.

Once every blue moon
Twice each new moon
your soul might well come out to play
a more complex tune
which cries out for harmony
(perhaps for rhapsody)
and tries to wrap its finger
around your heart

Once every blue moon
Twice each new moon
my soul bears it's inner self to the elements
and in doing so finds a kernel
of my younger me
who plays and dances fresh steps
and treads lightly on our path
of aging

Once every blue moon
Twice each new moon
there's a slim and faint opportunity
to discover a you and a me
that hasn't yet found the North Star
or yet found our shared identity
our fresh scar and grasped
the nettle of the future
hand in stung hand

Once every blue moon
Twice each new moon
in the uncomfortable pause between songs
we dance on bruised feet
holding on for a fresh new beat
and refuse to let this new future pass.

In my dark grief I find more depth to life
than what appears to be there at first sight
There I see more in my shadows
than what was lit by my first bright light
and there in the lee, God whispers
with a new voice
with a depth that finds me
at my midnight

Like buying Irish tea bags in the 'World Food' aisle
I like to take my jeopardy close to my native Isles

I do buy silky underwear, but only M&S
- trying something sexier will only cause me stress

I stick to experiments with familiar ingredients
You'll never mistaken me for some sort of deviant

I like to take my journeys only slightly off track
I like it when the menu includes a Big Mac

Don't judge me for my caution,
you've no idea what it's like
when my mother keeps on telling me,
cosmopolitan is hype

I see behind the wheelie bins
  that they've dropped a little parcel
It's only slightly soggy
  and the label looks still legible
I can see it's not for me
  (they should really be more careful)
So I drop it in the bin
  that's marked only for recycle.

Sometimes I feel like a cactus.
A cactus in the desert
flowering, soaking up
every last drop of moisture
testifying to all who care to hear
that here there is life
there is hope
there is growth
here in the desert
here where I was planted
with purpose
with reason
with intent to thrive
here in this desert.

Sometimes I feel like a cactus 🌵
tenacious
tireless
persistent
just as my maker intended.

The weight of my potential
The heat of what may be
The giddiness of each and every
possibility

The loneliness of greatness
The solitude of win
The intoxication of evening
final victory

I bit my tongue
Spat out the bitter taste of failure
I forced down the bile of defeat
and lived to chew,
to eat another day

And there you are.
But what am I?

You are my sadness
My hope
But mostly my love.

A memory made real.

We have said goodbye before;
so it stands to reason,
we'll say hello again.

So long, darling.

confident embracing failure
comfortable with self-doubt
curious about each bump and scrape
convinced I've found what counts

balancing needs and desires
encountering more than I sought
wondering if it's really about
leaving more than I brought

climbing beyond the summit
flying above the clouds
reaching where I aimed to be
or leastways thereabouts

Help me remember the good things
Help me drink in the view
Help me find both my feet
Help me find my you

Long ago before the world was round
before it grew blue and sprung green
there was no song
no music
and words were flat
with sharp edges and holes
with nothing to fill them.

That was until the hummingbird hummed
and the song-thrush found its voice
and the humans,
who prospered by copying the best ideas,
lied and mimicked and parroted
until something like song
smoothed the edges
and filled the holes
until the world was full
and it's edges round
and music began

Just like that
they were taken.
No warning.
No explanation.
A quiet night raven.

And what happened next
was yet
was not yet
and yet it was
touched by old regrets
like that

You’ve got lost all over again
You need to just face it
You thought you were lost before
but now you know you are
You know you’re right about something and it’s this
You just need it to happen one more time
and then you’ll see the pattern
then you’ll find the key, the clue that’ll unlock the map
That way when the day ends you’ll no longer be lost
and you will have found that the day can end well after all
You know, like it’s supposed to
And then you’ll find it, right there, at the end, where it’s supposed to be
where it was all along
See?
Told ya.
4 dimensions work better.

I'm old
and I know things
but I don't know you
(but you know that)

The day's been seized
with no ransom demand
It's in a windowless basement
and will never see daylight again

The day's been seized
taken from those it loves
with no hope of reunion

The day's been seized
but so far unharmed

The days been seized
and reduced to tears

tears

Within the long Selah,
deep in the chasm of the pause,
His words sink,
seep,
down into the cracks,
into the gaps
and salves where bitter words
were once rooted
and grew to sprout a harvest
of self recriminations
to the third and fourth generation.

Within the long Selah,
in that cleft
his seed begins
a fresh sowing
and leaves new promise
of a fresh crop
of sweeter fruit.

Wakey wakey
Rise and shine
Grab the moment
Start your climb

Get off your ****
Put it in gear
Raise yourself up
Your moment's here

Pull up your socks
Tie up your shoes
Now seize the day
This time's for you.

Seed and soil
Water and light
Toil included  
Day and night

Time and patience
Rise and repeat
Hope is planted
And Hope is reaped

I stole away to live
I kept it to myself
I never said a word
I kept it quiet
and to myself

Never risked
never chanced
just dreamed
and chewed over
and in the end
it was all I had
and no one had it but me
and no one but me

(Judges 1. 1-3)

Judah shall go first
Judah shall go up
Judah takes the lead
With thanksgiving in his heart

Judah shows his brothers
Leading by example
How to take new ground
Knowing God is able

Praising God in prayer
Praising God in dance
Praising God with singing
Letting God advance

'Cos Judah is a fighter
Judah lifts God's banner
Judah is a front man
Worshipper and warrior

God stood at the beginning,
On the edge of that first Monday
On the brink of creativity, ready
To step off and risk his reputation 
On a venture that would be his signature dish.

A world stuffed full of flavours,
A realm ripe with potential
For life, for growth,
...For relationship.
But like all relationships, not without risk.
And so, with a smile of anticipation,
He took a deep breath...
And the rest
is history.

However, although unseen, soon
The infection of heaven's rebellion
Snaked it's way in through the gate,
Made friends and prompted a very short debate
So subtle that man was tempted to partake
Of an apple that caused trust to crumble
So humankind would from then on struggle 
And toil to survive outside that paradise lost
Until such time when Christ would step up and pay the original cost
Of the curse we deserved...

But as a foretaste 
Of that preferred sacrifice
God was pleased to accept 
Flame grilled substitutes,
Instituting a family feast
With crisp, pleasing aromas
Of juices that provisionally provided forgiveness
As a foretaste of a greater high priest
A greater promise
That 'The Lord Will Provide' 
For a new world
Fit for his future bride....

God stood 
On the edge of that first Monday
On the brink of creativity
And saw that it would - indeed -
be
good.

Long before I was her father
she flew
perhaps with fairy wings
or maybe a cherub's -

I can't be sure,
but I know she flew

cos she kept her perspective
and taught me to drink my fill
from each moment
and not move on til
I'd tasted the dregs.

Long after those early lessons
I still need to practice
this most basic of skills.

A hug is a huge thing,
a something that can envelop,
can cause me to well up,
can burst through my well built up
defences and knock down fences
that have stood the tests
of time-honoured conventions,
that respected my distance
and even admired my stiff upper prevention
of anything like a display of affection.

A hug is a long held committing,
a massive undertaking
that leaves a long-lasting indentation
of serious loving.

A hug is a huge thing.
We need a hug.

May you fare well during this Advent
May you find much grace as you wait
As your household houses his glory
And friends are well met at your gate

A weary world, a muted cry
uncertain plans and pleas denied

But then a star, unearthly bright
a glimpse of dawn, a new-found light

The thrill of hope, a hope of promise
Behold the birth of joy and solace

The birth of love, the gift of life
Behold a child, a born delight.

The world in need calls out once more
prayers for relief, pleas for a cure

And then he comes, the world rejoices
Emmanuel, we raise our voices

His people stand, as one we sing
to our Messiah, our Saviour King.

This dead line isn't
an alive line - it's
the end of the line
that chimes with little
and ends with a full stop
that's not a little empty
and that's not going to end there
not by a long chalk
at least not til it's taken its toll
and without being asked
you begin to see
that it tolls for thee.
And between its last echoes
this dead line declines
your pleas for more time
So this is indeed
do or die time.

I hold with care the value of
The Wait
despite the loud backdrop of
The Immediate.
I relish
The Not Yet,
not looking for a premature rush into
The Unfinished.
I anticipate
The delicious Hope,
ignoring the clamour of dissent.
And not taking anything for granted,
I do all I can to clear space:
space to listen with intent
and space to herald
The Promise of the Soon,
The ready-coming-King,
and space to embrace
The God-with-us
Now.

Some will sing of Scotland,
its heather and its hills
Some will sing of sunrise,
the coming of new dawns
Some will speak of hidden gems
some of treasured pearls
But I will sing of Alba Flower
when kneeling in my prayers.

I will thank my Father God
that she came before the dawn
that in the deepest night
Alba's bright new light was born
I will thank him for the joy
of finding this precious pearl
and thank him for entrusting us
with this wee bonnie girl.

The thrill of hope
A hope of promise
Behold the birth
Of joy and solace

The birth of love
A love for life
Behold a child
A born delight

None of my best friends
are poets

They live different
They walk faster
They're more organised
They have more friends

They are readers
occasionally
And writers
spasmodically
- never pathologically

My best friends
are breakers of silence
and I need them more
than they need me

my rosie
leaves, moves through pallets,
rises through the afternoon quiet,
strengthens, peaks,
reaches a crescendo,
a swallow of poured
perfection
and tells me
she is sweet enough

The lie is that
where I lie
no one else
sees or cares for -

That the world lies
someplace else
somewhere different
separate
alien.

I hear the lie out loud
and drown out the voices
so I must imagine
the sound of truth
so that one day
I might recognise it
and we will lie together.

We met halfway
we exchanged stories
of paths trodden
and, so encouraged,
we parted,
we moved on
to complete our journey

My enhancers
Are chosen carefully
And balanced with my dominant hue
To ensure
They first see just who
I am
And not see me through
my base blue

Wind your neck in
but with care,
so not to break the line
lest you drop your catch.

Wind your neck in
until I can take the weight
rest your game on the bank
fish out the hook

consider if to let it away
content with the win
not **** to fill to quench your lust

content with ambition and
laughter met

wind your neck in

Kindness is not nice.
‘Nice’ is soft and inoffensive
‘Nice’ is careful and non-assertive
‘Nice’ is easy and effects no change
she’s cotton wool trying to soften the pain
but not stuffed tight, just resting on the surface
ready to be blown away or pressed
under a muddy boot of disinterest

‘Nice’ is a damp whisper
a mouse cowering in the corner
hoping you will blink and miss her
lest she attract your notice
lest she presume too much
and cause a whisker of offence

Kindness is not like that –

Kindness pushes in, quick and nimble
a hero with no mask, unasked
unexpected, dodging the turmoil
leaving nothing unsaid and little undone
in her pursuit of creating a counter-disruption

Kindness defies convention

Kindness carefully aims her weapons of choice
and advances relentless and regardless
of any and all obstacles in her way
Kindness perseveres all the love-long day

Kindness doesn’t delay

Kindness is gleeful for the chance of invasion
ready to disarm with expert compassion
with her regiments of patience
armed to the teeth with gracious
placing tanks of good faith on all fronts

Kindness confronts

Courage is her currency, boldness her language,
trust and hope are her passports to lands long unexplored
happily wearing all-weather clothing
for any and all unexpected storms

Kindness transforms

Kindness weakens all defenses
and challenges all camouflaged pretenses
Kindness pours itself out to fill unhealed wounds
and on shrapnel-seeded battlefields
she - blooms

Kindness is not 'nice'  
Kindness isn’t in this for the likes
Kindness bites
She’s a take-on-all-comers, undefeated delight
Kindness never bails from the fight
never fails, never takes flight

Kindness is nothing casual,
nothing incidental
This Kindness is elemental
She is Avengers-Assemble,
End-Game-level
monumental

Kindness is not 'nice'.

Kindness is loving awe-ful.

I've written straight with crooked lines
Told truth true with white lined lies
Quenched the fire with months of dust
Healed your wounds with salves of ****
There's nothing here that's as it seems
The river will slow farther upstream

I'm never alone
Not with my thoughts
Not with my dreams
never an excuse to be idle
never alone
I'll always have you
to intrude,
to distract,
to enlighten
shining your light
alerting me
greeting me
never letting me be
a moment alone

I love portraits with their lives showing
with honest endings
with tears not yet dry
torn by well intended lies

Look again
and touch the surface
of another view
Then reach up, deeper
and find yourself new

If I was content
I wouldn't write
Create
Sing
Love
Or even look behind the veil
If I was content
I would just be still
Lord, save me from content.