Hound of Heaven Hymns - Latest works

shipping forecast

(celebrating 100 years)

whatever the weather
however high the waves
the strength of winds
the fog or rain here
is no depression or
cyclonic panic but
the rippling rhythms
of a constantly changing
climate breaking gently
on shore or against
a hull the vital data
is the enchanting
zephyr ebbing tide
or soothing flood to
keep us safe in
nature’s lap of passion
pounding pulse
and partial peace
these waves are
airborne in their
incantation to steer
us through the passage
of the powers of this
globe and the headlands
and reaches of our
common heart
harbouring us all
for our final
voyage finisterre
no more

A villanelle of promise

A poem especially for those outside the Church
and those who feel banished or abused

There is a voice that speaks to every care –
It’s heard in storm and calm when hearts do burn:
We’re loved beyond what matter’s form can bear.

Sweet music sings to all in freedom’s air
Despite the pains and doubts of daily churn:
There is a voice that speaks to every care.

Each day and moment offers us to dare,
To risk and lose ourselves, to change and learn,
We’re loved beyond what matter’s form can bear.

How certain seems the world of glamour’s stare,
It’s hard to look away and from it turn;
There is a voice that speaks to every care.

Love’s spirit meets us in our breath as prayer –
In presence held, a gift we do not earn;
We’re loved beyond what matter’s form can bear.

Life’s meaning seems so rich and rare
Yet lies in all our hearts and lives that yearn:
There is a voice that speaks to every care,
We’re loved beyond what matter’s form can bear.

chronophage

a sextet for Holy Week
(the form is based on John Dowland’s
setting of the Anon Time stands still)

Can one week bring death’s untimely end?
We all must die yet love eats time in one who comes as friend:
To take each hand, enlighten mind and fearful heart –
For his journey through these days takes each and every part.
Time eats us up as dust but now is eaten up in turn:
Love’s final days of mortal life with timeless glory burn.

Yet this truth is hid in every age,
Our hopes and powers write selfish stories on our history’s page.
The foal and palms lead on to scorn and howling crowd.
Can I deny my fear of pain and death’s thin shroud?
We cannot bear the shrieking hurt of nails and parching thirst –
He did – for us – time’s death is changed, and every tomb is burst!

caprice

for humankind
easter is
caprice
unaccountable
ever changing
our certainties
making time
sudden
and yet
recognisable as
the sentenced
and
condemned
the crucified
and buried
the challenger
and disruptor
bringing
healing and
division that
lead to
life and
unity triumph
over the
vocabulary
of passing
power and
ever nagging
fear the
empty tomb
scours us
all out
into true
freedom
and
friendship
the stone is
moved by
spirit
pure caprice

eternity in a bottle

it can’t be done says
reason but many of
us spend our days
with this hope or
the compromise of
a delusion fired by
pleasures and
fantasies yet as
the boat with sails
or ship with funnels
sails in its glassy
captivity so there are
intimations of miracle
moment wonders a
beating soaring heart
a mind alight a union
with another the lost
plot in a revelation
of awe all’s nothing
mystery’s missingness
ignite explode dash be
dazzle whisk stir and
whirl in an implosion
of wonder and connection
when the smallest triggers
set off a charge all matter
shatters and eternity’s
oblivion emerges
contained for a flash
in the beautiful breaking
of a bottled wave ~

relics

leftovers and
inanimate the
precious triggers
of remembrance
pierce my heart
and water my
eyes what is
dust without
you

A sonnet for Lent

Our way is always strewn with rocks and stones –
We sometimes see the path with carefree ease
Ignoring others, deaf to suffering’s groans.
The world cannot be read ourselves to please,
Each day has cares we must embrace aright
And recognise our powers to use for good.
For human living is both gift and plight:
So sharing love involves the phrase ‘I should’;
By taking up the cross of saviour’s way
We’re ne’er alone and part of heaven’s bliss.
The barren land is where we’re led to pray
And find the bridge of joy o’er death’s abyss.
The wilderness is real and brings to sight
Our world and lives remade by truth and light.

the clock that blooms

planted in cogs and
wheels there springs
a movement measured
and measuring as the
hanging weight
pendulums the unique
possibility of moment
it is hours not just
mine when hands
and numerals root
and shoot into the
beauty that blooms
and perishes blossoming
time and fruitful end
passing on and away
as individual life and
form is gathered into
an all that needs
nothing

meetings

so many and so
different resented
and feared longed
for encounters
happenstance
collisions and
unions for life
there is one on
a page and in a
temple where
ages melt and
flickering lights
dazzle in recognition
where the tide of
hope ebbs away
in gentle joy to
crash on the
other shore in
a shattering
piercing ecstasy that
after time will
never end
hypapante

easter freefall

the descending lift
a premonition of
the taking the
taking into the
realm we never
control taken to
the hilltop death
of dark eclipse
and agonised
despair it is
the forsakenness
that reveals a
step a flight
an open door
from mind and
form into a
light that is
substantial and
scarred the glory
forged in the
shrieking hours
of human time
and met by the
silence of celestial
music reason is
irradiated and
riven by the
open outstretched
arms of welcome
where we are held
by love now by
nails yet ever
after in in
accessible bliss

quayside

the ship has sailed
without
me
you are my voyage
and now I stand
alone
looking pointlessly
to a vacant
horizon
I never knew that
this could
happen I have
the ticket safely
in my hand
but that is
all

fragments

there is a big
picture but no
one can see it
we are pieces of
a creation what
we create and
see is but a
passing glance
filled with the
possibility of
eternity every
atom is holy not
mine our peace
and purposes are
the miracle of
meaning and
we miss it
perhaps for
ever if we fail
to hold each
other for that
is the source
of the miracle
fragmented love
that never lets
go pursues to
partake in the
picture we can
never see for
the only in
the togetherness
that steps out
of reality into
the impossibility
of all

grate loss

together we laid a
fire and how it
blazed for what
seemed a lifetime
of years giving
light and warmth
consummate
combustion
licking and
leaping with life
but without you
the fuel has failed
the oxygen sucked
out of the magical
flames leaving
only ashes
cold and grey
but I am still
grateful

dogma without debate

truth is like a
hand grenade
weaponised
righteousness by
unrighteous
people and we
pull the pin
with dogma
removing debate
and monopolising
the truth we can
never possess or
control how many
are killed past
and today in a
war to be right
and condemn
difference and
diversity how
different indeed
from the healing
touch the life laid
down the lowest
seat the golgotha
throne the hammered
and lanced corpse
raised by
undogmatic dawn
of grace which
never triumphs
only gives

asphyxiation

truth is oxygen
the pure air of the
soul and society
it comes not in
cylinders and
canisters but in
the exposure to the
chasm of a presence
and justice not formed
by self interest or
self perception as
victims of lies and
deceit vaunting
ambition and mean
self preservation teeter
on the cliff of condemnation
betrayal and disposal
the very air is sucked
from the lungs as
the vertiginous
judgment opens up
a different and
wholly holy other
truth the oblivion
of sacrifice and
union we tumble
to the inevitable
rocks below but
hark, we are remade
by arms everlasting
arms that refashion
restore remake re
surrect and forgive
there is the miracle
beyond my reach our
reach till now and
it costs everything

declension

variation and
degradation hold
a beauty and a
truth welcome
and unwelcome
as nothing is
certain no rock
of ages or waters
of might all is
change holding
new life and
promise in decay
and rot the
highwayed honey
combed stump
the speckled flaking
corrosion of metals
the final caress
and broken heart
are full not empty
a cradle not a
grave

none of our busyness

we are caught up like
sails in the wind
careening through days
activated fired blown
tasks to be done
expectations met projects
realised chores and routines
but why
to what end

there is there is meaning

embedded in the
scudding lifescape
is there how do we
know if only we could
stop and find or trust
and believe that
nothing is up to me
or us save the leap
the release of self –
to be found and held
by the love that is
never too busy for
us to die and
live letting
love pour over
and flood out
from deep within
and beyond me
and us and all

speechless

what language
does easter
speak known
or new it
matters as
all matter
matters
and now it
will be raised
in a trans
formation
beyond our
human notation
or tongue
we will be
reluctant to
relinquish
our say
our control
as we learn
the new and
lose our
hold on
self and
life as
verbiage
the value
of the
meaning we
make and
impose the
dam has
burst the
seal is broken
there are no
words for
these are
flummoxed phrases
and shifting
shadows of
the logos
wisdom word
that says it
all and our
sentence is
broken

out of the blue

when love’s tide ebbed
for the last time the
foreshore of my life
was littered with a
huge question mark
beached and blatant
I had often stumbled
over shingle versions
stabbing my feet but
here there is a new
part of my heart and
mind’s landscape
where are you you
seem so unattainably
close within my very
breath but not my
embrace the interrogation
mark forms a barrier
and a signpost inviting
me to pack up the luggage
of living and to cross the
strand into the water
infinitely deep no tide
or wave or swell just
You

lycanthropy

you would never think
the shepherd could
become the wolf they
have and what a bite
and what a death I
live only in faith and
exist but in name
through all my days
I have naturally eschewed
ambition jealousy
competition and status
happily feeling love
even in the darkest of
days but now I am
judged sentenced condemned
and executed in the name
of all that love
is it I who is the wolf