Tag: Poetry

Built only to serve

Ardnamurchan Lighthouse, Ardnamurchan Point, Kilchoan, Argylle & Bute. Photo: Mr G.

LIGHTHOUSE

I was built only to serve;
to warn; to guide;
reassure; prevent.

I was built on rock.
I am stability in a shifting world
of uncertainty and fragility;
reliability in a sea of change.

I can withstand wind and wave,
crashing storms,
skies rent asunder with electric light.
I can be drenched with wild rain;
withstand angry skies;
resist swirling mist;
be brave in deepest dark.

I can wave at stars,
bathe in the sun;
befriend the moon.

You may take me for granted,
even find me beautiful,
solid but slender;
be at peace because I am there.

I am a lighthouse;
keeping mariners safe, focused
and at the beck and call
of all who sail by.

(Inspired by the Hundredth Anniversary of the
BBC Shipping Forecast July 4th 2025)

[Mr.G]

A Song of God’s making

At a recent study Group, there was a discussion about the nature of Psalms and about how they can be used in our own praying. Psalms bring us close to the praying of Jesus and were his own ‘prayer book.’
We can approach the Psalms in whatever state of mind or being we are and there find comfort, love, challenge and a response to our own feelings and thoughts. In the Psalms we find honesty and a sense that whatever we are going through, good, bad and indifferent, we shall find God.

The study group leader suggested that the members might try to write their own version of a Psalm as a way of growing in understanding of both God and of self. The ‘Psalm’ which is offered here is one such response. It was Scarlet’s first offering of a ‘song to God’ from the centre of her heart.

There are echoes of Psalm 23, Psalm 138, and Psalm 8. The real echo comes from the hearing of God’s voice in a listening which needs silence for it to make the deepest impact on life, as it did, of course, to the writers of the Psalms in Old Testament times.

~ Psalm reflection by Scarlet Hellard-Malt.~

Jesus in Gethsemane

[photo from Gill Henwood – of the area near the Black Mountains, Bhutan]

Jesus prays in Gethsemane

On the night of his betrayal, Jesus took his disciples to the Garden of Gethsemane, near the Mount of Olives. He asked them to pray for themselves and then went to a place by himself. He prayed to his Father that he might be released from the trial and crucifixion ahead of him. But he also prayed that his Father’s will should prevail. The humanity of Jesus cried out and his anguish caused his sweat to fall like drops of blood. An angel from heaven came to strengthen him. His disciples were fast asleep. Then the Roman soldiers came to the garden to arrest him….    (St Luke’s Gospel Chapter 22: 39-53)

Gethsemane

This is his Passion.
Darkness wraps around his very being,
not a warming cloak but a shroud.
Silence, punctured by friends
snoring off the wellbeing of food,
minds sloshed with wine.
Alone with the shivers of the night,
everything in him protests.

Sometimes, when we know our destiny,
our minds close.
Not this! No! Never!
But our hearts are our undoing:                                 
our resolve begins; ends there.
So he battles with his need to say ‘Yes’,
for himself, for others,
for us.
How else can the world know what it is to be loved?

Kneeling on the damp ground,
tense, numb,
scared, uncertain, he waits.
And the Father waits too as demons and angels whirl,
stirring up the black air, a vortex of cosmic battle.
Below them, sweat drops as blood.
And still the Father waits, listening expectantly,
daring to hope…

God wrestling desperately with God
with everything – just everything – at stake.
This really is the Passion.
He sighs, deeply,
calm descends.
“Yes, let it be.”

The Father wraps his love around him
– and so too around us.

[Mr G. ]

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]