Tag: Mr.G

Play for us ~ Vision on St. Cecilia’s Day

Vision.

Play for us!
Vision for St Cecilia’s Day

Play for us, Lord God.
We wish to hear music;
the music of heaven.
Play notes to calm our fears,
soothing our souls from anxiety.

Our world is ripped apart by sounds,
discordant, ugly sounds from the bowels of hell –
bombs, missiles, bullets, tanks, cries of painful death –
Guttural sounds of soldiers.
many far from home, tired too, hungry.
bewildered, disillusioned.

Ordered about by those whose only tunes are hatred.
a cacophony of crashing disharmony –
flowing from cankered, disfigured hearts
no longer united with the music
of the One who created them.

Wars begin in hearts crumpled by demonic blackness.
Is this hell?
Despair. The concerto of annihilation.
No symphony.
No sympathy.

But, if You, Lord, play music to us,
It will find a way to soothe and
caress our troubled souls.
Help us to hear the beautiful harmony
as you sprinkle note upon note
of your kindness and love upon us,
enfolding, holding, re-awakening our vision.

As your music lifts our hearts
towards the orchestra of heaven.
help us to become in tune with your message
which tells that there is more than hell on earth.
There is earth raised up to heaven.

Mr G. (St Cecilia’s Day 2025 revised)

Immediately ~ (εὐθύς),

St Mark’s day is normally celebrated on April 25th, except in years when Easter Week takes precedent.
In 2025, therefore, it is kept on April 29th.

One of the key words in the Gospel occurs 42 times in St Mark’s Gospel – the word is  euthus” (εὐθύς), which is translated as ‘immediately’, or ‘straightway’. The use of this word gives the Gospel account a sense of urgency. There is an emphasis on the active and dynamic ministry of Jesus.
My poem ‘euthus’ below is inspired by the word and its meaning.

Euthus – immediately!

Straightway,
he takes up the pen,
dips it in the ink:
words flow onto parchment
at once.

Getting it down immediately
as readers wait:
impatient to hear this story of faith.

We long for phrases
that awaken and challenge the heart;
ideas that lift souls
in search of meaning;
feet, itching for travel,
on our pilgrimage to God,
are now hope-filled.

Eagerly,
we follow way-markers,
constructed not with stones
but with the pen.

Our souls need feeding
and our minds are thirsty for truth.
The parchment lays itself open to the pen,
which breathlessly recounts the story:
the wonderful Good News
that enlivens us.

Straightway,
words take shape:
‘The beginning of the Good News
of Jesus Christ, the Son of God……..’

Mr G
St Mark’s Day, 2025

Dancing with daffodils

Wild daffodils in the Lake District photographed by my friend Gill Henwood

In this coming week, we who live in the earth’s Northern Hemisphere, move from the season of Winter to that of Spring.
The Spring equinox is often known as the ‘Astronomical’ Spring to differentiate it from the ‘Meteorological’ Spring which is used by weather forecasters and is always on March 1st. The season of Spring generally falls on either March 20th or 21st (19th in a Leap Year) This year it is on March 20th.
Nature, however, prefers to set its own time and has already begun showing growth from the earth; songs from the birds and a gentle ‘greening’ of the leaves as trees create a dusting of new life.

It has been suggested that it was these words which inspired her brother, William, to write his own poem in praise of daffodils. The sentiments and imagery expressed by Dorothy are certainly traceable in his poem.
William became famous and eventually Poet Laureate whilst Dorothy was all but forgotten at the time but there are some who would suggest that his daffodil poem might constitute plagiarism!
What can be certainly said is that between them they helped to make the Daffodil become a joyful sign of Spring and of Resurrection. [Mr G]

photo GH

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

[William Wordsworth]

Bee in Autumn

The last lone bee of the season
caresses the flowers of autumn,
dusting the late pollen
leaving us a legacy,
a final squeeze of nectar.

The leaves turn gently,
a golden and red canopy of grandeur.
a delicious carpet of rustic colour
forming flightpath lights
guiding the bee to her winter resting place.

Will there be honey still for tea?

[Mr. G]
October 2021