Giving Plea

We may lay and rise to meet

Expel desire to compete

Friends and strangers’ hearth for feet

Tread the path discreet


Fruit borne plentiful and sweet

Eyes of silence wide asleep

Pierce the mocking vine deceit

Thistle blister seat


Longing not for pride or place

Passion forbade saving face

Hope in holy open space

Gentle saving grace


hobart ruins


Poem and Featured Image of Ellendale, Tasmania by Lisa J. Haynes (C) 2018

Image of ruins near Ross, Tasmania – Mercury Newspaper.

Proclaim Freedom

Fear of what might happen if you leave

Is no good reason to remain


May you have the freedom to proclaim

The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me because the LORD has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor.

He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners,

to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favour and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion

— to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.

They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendour. – Isaiah 61:1-3

Nothing but the Blood

I gave away my feathers to a wounded bird, mid-flight

She fondled in her fingers and gazed at colours bright.

Both of us now cold, I wandered down the pale pink hall

Warmed by hands and hearts – reciting heaven, gold, gems and all.

With bravery I wore a cross-shaped medal I didn’t earn

A signed and sealed commission of men has joined the funeral burn.

Though many think the flow of blood is death, despair and strife

I know for sure it’s freedom from guilt and our eternal life.

The darkness that I wear will not do for wedding ball

Patiently, I changed the feathers for a pure white shawl.



Image credit


It’s the things that aren’t said that hurt the most.

I can hear the tower clock chime from my pillow

It is the only constant I hear.

But even this clock;

I envy the care and attention

it receives for its restoration.

I hope to have its constancy at heart.

Spiritus Sanctus:

‘O Holy Spirit, as the sun is full of light, the ocean full of water,

Heaven full of glory, so may my heart be full of thee.’

The Valley of Vision

Season of singing

I love all the unseen things about you

I wait for them to make themselves known

a word, a look, a gesture, a smile

a gift of Love – one treasure I own.


When I stand before the body, in the flesh

I am confused. It’s You that I miss.

I respond in words I don’t understand

I lose part of myself in this.


Waiting for the unseen,

the centre of our being

to come forward again

In the Spring.


When you play, your work, your dream

it is there – the unseen

making music in my ears

as sweet as a song of songs.


Sweet fruit. Spring flush

Eat, dear friends, and drink your fill of love¹

The days were Made for this.

The season of singing has come.²


Love stronger than death

burns like a Mighty fire

Many waters cannot quench

Nor rivers sweep it away.³


By day the Lord directs his love,
    at night his song is with me—
    a prayer to the God of my life. –Psalm 42:8

buds over the stream

¹Song of Songs 5:1

²Song of Songs 2:12

³Song of Songs 8:6-7

Image source: ‘Looking through the trees to the stream’ by John Groves

Light a candle for yourself

My dreams never betrayed me

It was the daytime that I fought

Erasing words I did not say

Discarding others’ thoughts

You know a hand could never hope

to live without their arm

An arm never fights

without a hand to disarm

I dampened end of fingers

extinguished the ill-lit wick

But faith and hope lit another flame

Its scent won’t make us sick.

I know you must despise it

All my words and songs and stares

Like bitter herbs, resent the taste

But brings us heavenly wares.

Master Stonemason

Amidst vineyards and streams

rickety bridges, burnt ridges

lies a stone pillar erect

Ebenezer, rock of help to protect

Teach, observe, promise to serve

no wicked intent or self-serving word

Mizpah, watchtower, amidst almond flower

The Master carves out his heritage dream

Gentle rest in valleys green

Shepherd’s wake from hilltop eye view

Finds source of springs to refresh and renew

Lest our wine-skins burst at their seams.

Image: William Mark Fisher painting – American Gallery WordPress

For Karen

You with your hands

held high in the air

Blank stare on your face

Your words said with flair

Still, we both pray for Karen.

You with your bells

and your smells in the air

With robes and peak caps

And ceremonial fare

Still, we both pray for Karen.

You with your book

and your words fill the air

Nods all around

Words just and fair

Still, we both pray for Karen.

Me with my morning

and evening, night air

Hands closed to my head

Soul emptied of cares

Lying still, we all pray for Karen.

Them with their sun

and full moon on the rise

Empty words in the air

Suspicions of lies

Still, we all care for Karen.

I AM..

I AM Silent

But always listening in

waiting for any words

whether or not they rhyme..

I AM Walking

It’s the most I can do

lying in gentle wait

for You, we walk in two’s

I AM Patient

not knowing what to ask

for Fear it won’t be granted

Because the first will be the last