Category Archives: Poems

These might be poems, they sometimes rhyme.

Blankets on a Rocky Shore

A  number of things have happened to me today

A number of things that caused me to lose my way

Until  I was surrounded by blankets on a rocky shore

Convinced that God, like me, just loves a metaphor 🙂


I burnt my fingers holding up a mirror

And possibly it made some see things clearer

But some, not keen on seeing imperfection

Blamed the mirror holder, rather than the reflection.


I was distressed, regretting impulsive action

Thinking the mirror cracked to cause refraction

Until prayers showed me what I’d framed

And then I understood why I was blamed.


Friends warmed and cuddled me with their support

And allowed me space for clarity of thought.

And God was there, (obscure but clearly there)

Listening with patience to my prayer.


The gilded mirror emerged inside a dream

I was confused, not knowing what I’d seen

A crystal mirror on a rocky shore

A mirror that must be a metaphor.


When trying to describe how God is love

I’ve thought of snugly blankets from above.

So imagine my surprise at what I saw

When I opened to the knocking at my door!


Sharon and Bella standing there with fancy

Blankets made with love by lovely Nancy.

Nancy, I woman I’ve never met

But who taught me something I’ll never forget.


She makes blankets that she gives away for free

To warm a cooling heart or arthritic knee.

She doesn’t even know me, and much less

She will never know who’s getting her kindness.


God is moving in his mysterious ways today

God is certainly hearing me when I sink to pray

And answering me forever in metaphor

As he brings a pile of blankets to my door!

For Nancy, Sharon, Bella, Libby, Vee, Jackie and Sandie,
with my love and thanks

A Man of Passion and Peace – Cat Stevens – Yusuf Islam

Today my husband gave me a Cat Stevens “Best Of” CD…

Spinning me back down the years

Brining me laughter and tears

A man of great passion and peace

Setting me back on my feet.


I remember that ride in the spring

Trying my best not to sing

About mornings that broke and my dog

Who I loved, and of Peace Trains and fog.


We rode for well over an hour

With people he had on his tour

And he spoke not a word, but above all the roar

His peace could be heard, at the core.


We tranquilly rode through the scrub

And we heard all the birdsong above

As the silence became what it should

A feel of peace – that was good.


I was just a plain, awkward teen

(at the time I was only fourteen)

And here was my hero in flesh

Showing me a bright world, made afresh


Tiny flowers I’d not notice had bloomed

In the scrubby roadsides and festooned

The world with their charm, in that magical calm

And the air with their essence perfumed


I felt I had never prior seen

The world but hazily, through a dream

If silence if golden, I know

That truth, through gold silence, can grow.

I was only fourteen, but the things I had seen

More than all of his songs, could not show.


After his limo had left

I felt both absurd and bereft

I had wanted to say, on that beautiful day

That he taught me so much

I was blessed.


Cat Stevens toured Australia in September 1972 , playing  at Apollo Stadium in Adelaide, SA.
I was 14 at he time and my parents owned a riding school in the Adelaide Hills, so when he decided he wanted a peaceful break to go horse riding, I took him and his entourage on a ride.
He was my greatest hero at the time, but  I never spoke a word to him, and he said nothing audible during the entire visit.  It was obvious that his was a time-out for him and he radiated peace and calm in his silence.

And on and on it goes.
Ride on the peace train.


If You Believe He Walked on Water

The greatest paradox of all
Is that truth is what you believe.
I believe that,
Therefore it is true.

You may believe in your own capacity
to judge truth objectively.
In which case you will say
That what I say is false.

But is it impossible
we both be right?

Our minds are not designed
to see things just one way,
or for all of us
to see the same things.

Jesus really did
walk upon the water,
– if you believe he did.

But if you don’t believe
he walked upon the water,
– then he didn’t.

And there is a parable
to explain exactly that point.
For Peter sees Jesus
Walking on the water
and he believes
then he disbelieves
then he nearly drowns
then he believes again.

What Peter believes becomes real
but what he cannot believe
causes him to splutter and gasp
as he sinks.

Peter puts his faith in Jesus
and believes
and the world conforms
to Peter’s belief.

Just as Jesus always
promises it will.

Angel Voices

Softly she slips into church
she has only come here to hear
the children who sing in the choir
their voices so crystalline clear

She knows all the people by name
they greet her with nods and broad grins
but she doesn’t believe their believing
and she doesn’t believe in their “sins”

The voices of children ring sweetly
singing of peace and of love
as the people wine-sipping and kneeling
give praises to something above

But she’s only here for the beauty
all the rest is simply nonsense
to join in would be, well, hypocrisy
she will stick with good old common sense

As the voices crescendo and sparkle
and the cadences make her heart melt
purest joy, purest peace she is feeling
as complete now as ever she’s felt

She says that the voices are angels
she says that the singing’s divine
but what has it to do with this breaking of bread
and this delicate sipping of wine?

She sits there surrounded by glory
bathed in the light of life-force
enjoying the joy of her Sunday
but ever ignoring its source.

Integrity (for Libby, who helps me unpick)

To integrate
in every way
in action, thought and deed,
Being your own purest, pure truth
is a perilous path indeed!

We start to die
from our truest self
in infancy as we grow
to see ourself
through other’s eyes
rated higher than
our own.

There seems to be
so very much
that needs to be unspun.
To pare back to
the delicate core
picking the complex pattern

Integrity is all in one
the same in every way.
being truly who we are
in every place
on every day.

With no pretence
but speak your truth
to everyone you see.
Take your time
to form your words
to speak
in honesty.

There’s nothing harder
you can do
than peel back the bark.
And every time
a bit comes off
you feel  little spark.

The bark is the hardest
work of all,
exposing little wounds,
that made you who you are today
but the sparks
are tiny blooms.

We compromise
our own true self
from the moment we can speak,
Intent on pleasing others
for the approval
that we seek.

It’s a stage within a cycle
As I grow older
I care less
for the opinions of the people
I grew tough bark
to impress.

(for Libby, 2015)


I’m knitting a scarf for my grandson
and thinking of him as I do
the joys and the giggles he gives me
The fun of just watching him grow

There’s yellow for sunshine and laughter
and green for all nature’s excess
red  for power, blue for calm, mauve for dreaming
and orange for heart’s happiness

Every new stitch forms a kiss
and every new row a new prayer
I’m knitting my grandson a rainbow
all knotted in loving and care.

(for Jensen, Cameron and Patrick, 2013)