Darkened sky,Barren hill –Bloody field,Deathly still.Circling cryRings the sky,High aboveThe scarecrow. Hanging head,Flapping wind,Tortured mouth –Weight of sin.All who passLaugh at him,Passing byThe scarecrow. Limp in limb.Heavy eyesDrooping, seeAll that lies.Not a word,Not a sound –MercifulThe scarecrow.
I found some words at the bottom of the garden – Slimy, squirmy and more – I took those words, hastily squiggled, And shoved them in a jar. I tried to catch some fish with them – Slippery, silvery and wet – But those tired adjectives didn’t make good bait, Left me angling in regret. … More Wiggly Words
Then leaving Summer’s sandy shores Now beckoned by the breeze We donned our jumpers, hats and boots And entered Autumn’s eaves. Into the whisper, rustle and crunch Adjusting to the cold Watched age and sunsets run like fire And light the world in gold. No bonfire night or fireworks Could near compare to this We … More Autumn’s Eaves (poem)
Isn’t it quite something That something came from nothing? That nothing could do something To make it all appear! But let me tell you something: Nothing can do nothing! We all have come from something – Ain’t that a quaint idea? So lay the heavy burden Of proof upon the person Who in some strange … More Nothing (A poem)
A gift for all my readers (all three of you). While not strictly about Christmas, this poem concerns something I have been reflecting on quite deeply for a while and may blog about (if I have time) next year. In the meantime, enjoy, and see what it speaks to you about. I give you: The … More The Three Strangers
I’m looking forward to launching (the hard copies of) my new EP ‘Where I Am Free’ this evening. As part of the time I’m hoping to read a couple of pieces of psalm-writing (or rather rewriting) that I’ve done lately. One is based on Psalm 139 which I posted recently. The other is based on … More Who Am I? (My take on Psalm 8)
Fully known. Perfectly loved. Incomprehensibly understood. Every step – counted. Every word – breathlessly anticipated. Every thought – an open book. Fully known.
Ben David Trigg 