Tag: poem

Water’s Edge

Water’s Edge.

I look along the shoreline.
My eyes travel that uncertain, ever-changing border,
dividing land and sea.
The waves lap and caress the sand,
though, sometimes the sea pounds ferociously,
as if angry; always powerful.

People are strolling, some with dogs;
others are skimming carefully chosen stones,
bouncing on the waves.
There are others running, racing against the elements,
seeking fitness and health,
or just enjoying the sense of motion.

Clusters of rocks gather pools of water,
becoming safe havens for sea-creatures
hiding from the tide.
Birds dip and soar, calling to each other
greetings with elegant wings.

My eyes travel towards a hub of activity further along.
Fishermen struggling to spread out nets in need of mending.
Hardworking men, intent, purposeful, together.
They are who I seek.

I need them to be with me
I bring love and God to the marginalized people
shunned and pushed to the edge.
I have come to show them where God’s Kingdom
laps and teems with new hope; new life for them.
The fishermen will help.

[Mr G 21st July 2024]

A Message

Photo of the Carpet of flowers, Arundel Cathedral
– sent to me by my friends, Emma & Nathan Pope

Carpet of Flowers – Every Corpus Christi, the Roman Catholic Cathedral at Arundel hold a Festival, the highlight of which is the world famous Carpet of Flowers.
It has been an annual event for 140 years. It began when the 15th Duke of Norfolk, Henry Fitzalan Howard. visited the village of Sutri just outside Rome. There he saw a carpet of flowers and this inspired him to introduce a similar festival in the church he had founded in Arundel – Our Lady and St Philip Neri. This was later to become the RC Cathedral.
Each year there is a focal message in flowers and greenery. This year, as you see, it is Pray for Peace.
Inspired by this, I wrote this little poem.

A Message from the Earth

You destroy the earth
with your lust for power, control;
the selfish bolstering of your ego.
Yet, you cry for peace.!

Your words and actions are empty.
So we must speak, for we are the world
which you tread on with your heavy boots
of rhetoric, falsehood, self-centredness
and greed.

Therefore,  we have chosen to send you a message
in flowers and branches,
in beauty and in love.
This is our voice to your heart,
the cry of the earth.
Become Peace!
Listen to us, please
and act.

[Mr G, 3rd June 2024]

Hospitium

St Thomas’ hospital, London with Statue of Mary Seacole by sculptor Martin Jennings in the ground of St. Thomas’s. Mary Seacole was a pioneer of Nursing care. Photos by Mr G.

I wrote this poem whilst sitting in the reception area of St. Thomas’s Hospital, London, after receiving  some treatment. The word ‘Hospital’ has its roots in both hospitality and the monastic word, ‘Hospitium’ the ‘guest house’ where all are treated kindly’ and with concern for their well-being. Each visitor is held and welcomed. St Benedict says that all should be greeted and cared for as if they were Jesus Christ. In different forms, this is not unlike a hospital today.

Hospitium
thoughts in a hospital reception area.

People walking with purpose,
others more hesitantly,
faces clear or blank
or etched with anxiety.
Some in uniform
wearing lanyards of authority.

Squirming children in prams
pass quiet ones, carefully steered on beds;
some in pain,
others relieved – on the way to recovery.
Elderly folk, clutching arms
or balanced on sticks,
shuffle along uncertainly.

Visitors smile and greet,
lives intertwine.
Some, sad or worried,
seek news-givers
yet fear their words.

Hustle, bustle of humanity,
hand-holding, reassuring, realistic,
caring energy – often drained in service.

All humanity is present,
represented –
ethnic beauty,
language burble,
generations and races
sharing this space of hope.

All life is gathered where people seek healing,
are held, guided, directed, hugged
by walking crosses of dedication.
All, from cleaners to consultants,
playing their part
in being Christ-bearers to others.

The gentle receptionist looks kindly on.

{Mr.G. 16th April 2024}