Every year (more or less) on this day, I participate in theBloggers Silent Poetry Reading on the Feast of St. Brigid. I’ve never been ableto find out how it originated, but went with the flow of what I saw around me,posting poems I …

Inside of me daily theres a storm that rages ……like chapters in a book as life turns the pages…As a Christian i wonder if ill ever do enough…WILL i ever fit Jesus like a hand fits a glove…..One day as i struggle and reach for the top ..Ill no longer be used by the enemy like a mop. when spot and wrinkle have been removed and by the word…

The great Polish poet Wislawa Szymborska died today in Krakow. She won the Nobel…

Don’t judge a book by it’s cover
The pages are all worn
Many years of constant toil
Have left them thin and torn
It gives a good appearance
Belying what’s inside
Perhaps you call it death to self
As God dissolves our pride.

He carefully takes…

No matter what you’re going through
However bad it seems
There is someone listening
To all your rants and screams
Maybe you’ve forgotten
That He is standing by

This morning, with a brightening glow from my right I looked up from my newspaper to see a fog of falling snow across the yard, neighbouring street, and rooftops below. The unplanned and surprising sight had taken me back, contrasted all the more by th…

An Old Man’s Winter Night All out of doors looked darkly in at him Through the thin frost, almost in separate stars, That gathers on the pane in empty rooms. What kept his eyes from giving back the gaze Was the lamp tilted near them in his hand. What…

I look at my wrists, I see the scars

I search my soul, I know my shame

I’ve been led by the blind and beaten down by sin

I should have died, but You wouldn’t let them win

I see Your hands, the holes in Your palms

I’m singing in hell This is a place where my City Councillor invokes UN property rights instead of human rights for the 130 people evicted from a rundown apartment block destined for demolition, where the Mayor, hell-bent on the erection of Pat&#…

Who on earth are you trying to be
Someone deep in human pride
Straining,striving endlessly
To right the wrongs you’d like to hide.

What on earth was expected
Couldn’t mold you into type
Put you down for every fault
Tears of pain you cannot wipe.

There’s nane that’s blest of human kind, But the cheerful and the gay, man, Fal, la, la, etc. Here’s a bottle and an honest friend! What wad ye wish for mair, man? Wha kens, before his life may end, What his share may be o’ care…

Homeless
When you have no home, everywhere you go you’re a stranger and nothing is your own
See, it’s because of these trees and the paper they produce, without money, you’ll go hungry and be of no use.
Pay the fee or your of no more worth then a flea and are liable to become deceased as you lay there in the street
Some people have money and…

This poem I wrote in a very difficult time in my life. I came to realize that my tongue is evil. This was unnoticed most of my life for I grew up in a abusive home, it was normal to me. But in the outside world, working with God’s children (for I’m one of them now) I discovered it can NEVER be normal, one of satans lies.

May this poem bring…

Why should someone take such care
In changing sad old me
You’d think He had enough on His plate
Without the strain I be
For it has not been easy
His work has been cut out
It’s been a lot like roping a steer
Who loves to scream and…

I pray to the Lord, I seek His face. I try to do what is right and good and moral. It seems like after having done all that I can dI never get what I want and I never have the things i believe I need or the kind of life I believe me and my little family deserve.
Than I think and meditate on the scripture and I wander. Did God make…

I cry in the night for time not to pass,
But I wish for more from the hour glass,
A single wish bestowed to me,
To sleep beside my destiny.

I awaken alone and cold in my room,
The darkness around me fills me with gloom,
The hour is early and my mind filled with pain,
Knowing I may never see her again.

To a Locomotive in Winter Thee for my recitative, Thee in the driving storm even as now, the snow, the winter-day declining, Thee in thy panoply, thy measur’d dual throbbing and thy beat convulsive, Thy black cylindric body, golden brass and silvery …

I’m sat on a cushion
That’s comfy and plush
The world is a doddle
I’m not in a rush
To be in an army
That actually fights
I may have to give up
My comfortable rights.

I tithe like a good’un

Fill these empty spaces These interstitial echoes of wheres we’ve been. Here is the crucible Opening before you, Incandescent. See this sandpaper scar, this winsome grin. Here are my arms Here my lips, parted Here is my short-gasped breath – Syndica…

My room, the space that is mine is dark and dour, yet inspiration rises from the shadows on the floor  The things that are walled up in my mind scream and beg to be set free and with my pen I free them. The heart that beats beneath my floor, loud…