Passion, Purpose and Purity: A poem

To say I know someone
Because I have heard their name spoken.
To say I love someone
Because I know what they have done.
Is to deceive myself,
Cloud my vision
So that knowledge can not increase
and love begin to grow.

To know is not the possession of facts
To love not some casual feeling.
To know is to anticipate what they'll do.
It takes time, determination, a passion.
A desire to learn more, a striving to this purpose.
To love is to desire their will above yours,
To strive to please them and to seek to know them more.
It is a passion, a passion which provides a purpose.

Knowledge and love, passion and purpose
Interwoven; each driving the other.
Passion giving us purpose, and our
Purpose increasing our passion.
One purpose, one passion, pure uncomplicated.
Turn your thoughts, single minded
To that which you'd love.
Seek that love, strive to find it
With a passion and as your sole purpose.

Seeing: A poem

I have recently had a holiday in the lake district, a national park known for the beauty of it's surroundings.  It inspired me to write the following poem.  I hope that you enjoy it and, possibly, that it make you think.



Seeing

What do we see when we look around?

The mountains, the trees, the lakes, the ground?

What do we see as we travel this road?
The swallows and swifts, the frog and toad?

How can we see while we bustle around?
Crowded and speeding through life’s vibrant sound.

What do we see when we look around?
The cars, the buildings, the concreted ground!

What do we see as we travel this road?
The trouble, the burden; our so heavy load!

How can we see, around us so little?
Ignoring the awesome, the precious, the brittle.

It is time to stop and stare,
To shed the worry and the care.
Time to look around and see,
That oft forgotten tranquillity.
Time to see creation’s splendour,
Mighty, awesome, yet so tender.
Time to let that burden slip,
And from a new cup now to sip.

What do you see when you look around?
What do you see as you travel your road?

What am I? A poem

What am I, that I should be
Upon this earth at all?
That light should fall
And trees stand tall
Whilst I, alone, seem small.

What am I, that he should make me
With his potter’s hands?
And not reject me,
Not consign me
To the heap among the sands.

Who am I, that he should love me,
With a love so great?
A love forgiving,
A love redeeming,
A love that’s never late.

Who am I, that he should die
Upon a cross for me?
To take my place,
Undeserved grace
For a wretch to see.

Child, brother,
Friend, lover,
Such are names he calls.
What am I?
Who am I?
Abba, Father, I am yours!

Serenity: A poem

The soft babble of a lock,
A spider jumping fast.
Sitting doing nothing
The afternoon did pass.

The sun upon my neck,
A view unto my eye.
What a world is this,
Such majesty to a-spy.

Softly guided by the wind,
A butterfly a-floating.
A painting just for me,
Flowers tall a-growing.

To sit, and wonder,
To stare and never bore.
To rest and ponder
What this life is for.