Are these the words?

Are these the words I needn’t say?

You say them for me when you pray

You kneel upon a wooden floor

Sit on a bench they call a pew

And talk to those who cannot share

 

Your presence in the holy room –

Who sacrificed so you could live

And care for those who cannot give

What they receive to those they love –

 

Who treat them like a waveless shore –

They cannot see you anymore

But where they go there will be care

And one day they will see you there

 

Yet now, the congregation flows

Singing hymns we all would know

From the hymn sheet given them

 

And once done, in sight, the choir sings

A hum is heard from those ahead

Then the scriptures will be read

By the Reverend that fine day

 

And if a Bible you don’t have

No need for you to worry, so –

One will sure be given you

 

And inside that holy room

Where words are said for me through prayer

I wonder whether I could share

The sentiment being written there.

Poem – Belief

Belief is what you see outside

That stands upon the scroll

And pens charity, upon the page

And continues on, enthralled

 

And as the chirping bird is heard

An idea comes to mind

That the morning mist in glory’s gate

Could never deem to find

 

It’s heard amongst the forest

Where the kookaburra’s king

Yet, rarely in the sunburnt land

It’s said most anything

 

Yet as the sunbeam shines

It’s seen to say a prayer

It’s hard to know, from soul to soul

If immortality is there

Asunder

Oh ye, what is left when hope is gone?

Do belief, faith and charity, follow along?

Devoid of sunlight, leaving only rain

Like child, sole experience being pain

 

Doth we never see or hear again

Feelings thought to be with us anon

Pleasantly, enjoyment stolen from

A world devoid of sunshine whence it came

 

Behold emotive scene to love anew

The mountain and the valley meet as two

In Church, with steeple, inside empty pew

Song of silence sung with words so few

 

Away be gone what once was held so dear

Enjoyment lost, betray ungodly fear

What hath been left for those with little faith?

Come unto me – prey, ingratiate

 

Belief hath lost its path and put asunder

Like ship in port ne’er to see the ocean

Like parent ne’er to love their only child

Oh ye, what is left when all’s defiled…

 

And all but those of faith hath gone astray

Fallen by the wayside, gone away

One on top of other, they are piled

Whispers shout aloud – then all is quiet.

Poem – Heaven

Is there a place for me up there?

Behind prison bars, a place retained

Repent and enter the Gates when called

Teach, philosophise, abstain.

 

Abandonment of those who build

Discard those who don’t agree

Have mercy on those who walk the trail

Inculcate to follow thee

 

Nature, nurture, heredity

A blank slate until you’re seven

Recklessness over intellect

Before you reach the Gates of Heaven

 

Privilege, Wealth, must walk alone

It is the weak who need attending

Abundance enters ‘Heaven’ on Earth

Needy shunned by Earth, to Heaven, sending

 

Witness free thought, o’er yonder seen

Destiny, belief, opposed

Should my thoughts belong to me?

Or should I think and follow as I’m told?

 

There is a small stream far away

He’s on one side, me the other

The side of thought is not divine

Thought, by location, became my brother.

Poem – The apple tree

He sat alone amongst the many

Soulful, stifled, unknown to all

As if a shadow followed him in sunshine

As passers-by, unseen, did fall

He sat alone amongst the many

Touching though they could not feel

Speaking though they could not hear

He shouted as if to declare;

‘I’m reaching out to those in need

But it’s me who needs protecting

The multitude could not feel, hear or see 

No-one that day would follow me.’

He sat alone amongst the many

He sat there as twilight followed day

Knowing someone, somewhere, would assist him

Knowing someone, somewhere, would one day say;

“I’ve been you when you were me

I’ve been near the end, alone and lonely

Believe, have faith, prey mercy be

Come take my hand, all you need, only

Is a friend from the pit, from down below

Who’s been there once, twice, thrice before

Starved, deprived of pictures, words

Starved of truth, forgotten, poor.

Yet I’ve walked sun-filled streets free from harm

To feel shackle wrap ’round my arm

So I reach up toward the sky

‘Cos there I find the reason why.

‘Release me,’ I cried, enjoy the day

I know not any other way

When shackle’s gone, life surrounds

Sickness and fear no more abound.

Fear and emotion I wear not well

Estrangement, loss, a wishing well

Espouse free thought and free expression

As I share with you my true impression

Safe and harmless it may be

Undervalued, uncared for, freedom lost

My smile, at best, a need to see

Save other from life’s needless cost.

What we harvest we, in time, reap then sow

No matter a good harvest or a bad one be

Beyond the pit come follow me

The fruit will grow on your apple tree.”

Poem – helping hand

A hand reached out in time of need,
Rain in time of drought.
Fingers interlaced, accede,
Bud blooms from planted seed.

A hand reached out, come what may,
In time of loss, of sorrow.
Transfixed, hand in glove. To stay?
Or would, once more, in time, away?

A hand reached out, no more the poorer
A descendent finding family.
To face, to feel, to touch, be surer,
With every waking hour. Purer?

A hand reached out to touch the glass
Through it could be seen the far horizon.
‘Twas a masterpiece from the past,
It’s value translucent. Would it last?

A hand reached out in time of need
Sun in time of flood.
Fingers interlaced, accede,
The town survived, the rain recedes.

Beyond the voice

Travelling far from anywhere
The silent township it was reached
Thoughts were far from anything
Only to be found under feet.

'Waste not want not,' she doth cry
A whisper from a quiet voice
'Waste not want not,' before he died
Enduring be the summer sky.

The bright blue sky, the summer sun
The only real companion
Was the whisper merely a dream?
Had life stalled, was it really stagnant?

She went to the place her loved one was buried
Never afraid to walk with the dead, alone
She went to see the one she saw every day
He held in his hand the family stone.

As he came and as he went
It was never far away
But when he fell he fell afar
Ne'er to come back, with him it stayed.

It's distance always troubled her
For near, 'til now, had always been
Now distance sourced her own frustration
Never again would it be seen.

But seeing it wasn't everything
She still heard his voice beyond the grave
Like a bird's voice heard at sunrise
Like a lover's heart one can't see but craves.

Was this what one should take away
From this silent, distant land?
Would one learn from few what one could not from many
On a day when Yonder reached with single hand?

The sign said; 'Please minimise noise'
But no-one could be seen or heard
The traffic lights were covered over
Cattle was the only herd

Visitation of old friends
Always welcomed, set one straight
Locked out like danger, nearby, threatened
All to do was sit and wait.

Ought one stay the course that day?
Supposition being one's first approach
Is ignorance bliss if attention stifled?
Or should the subject, after all, be broached?

Always told to err on side of caution
Manners first and foremost yet
Behold societal intuition
Never hath it failed yet.

'Twasn't 'til I left the ground
That I felt in full control
'Twasn't 'til the fire burned
That I felt in air I could surely stroll

Through the valleys where the wine did grow
From up above it seemed surreal
Thinking sweet nothings, 'twas the season
All left to do from above was feel.

Flying high in calm of basket
Leaving grounded life away
At peace, and quiet, above the clouds
Sun rose to officially start the day.

Harvest reap, may it be sweet
Ignorance is never bliss
Only then can I walk away
The day being like one's first kiss.

Hark - do not dwell, do not fester
Look beyond and one will see
Above the clouds the day will dawn
May the sun that's rising shadow me.

the prophet

A leader to be followed,
A man to judge the dead
He stands on the pulpit preaching
‘The Kingdom of Heaven is near,’ he said.

A movement, small to start,
Followers, chosen, whence did come,
A story to develop,
Apostles, on his death, they doth become.

To him not all stay loyal,
A disciple, mendacious, will betray.
He preaches great things, in abundance be,
Such as ‘feed the people,’ come what may.

He gives a fish, man prospers,
Enough for one, enough for all.
He walks on water, others follow,
Enticed, enriched, enthralled.

The prophet, from death he does return,
His soul arises from this earth.
Meagre mortals prey, have mercy be,
Those once blind, now they can see.

Oh ye

Oh ye of little faith

Where has hope gone?

A smile doth be lost

Now only wan.

Is that all ye can stir

This full, bright day?

There must be more whence it came

To satisfy one’s love, come what may.

For without belief one’s hope is lost for good

Forever, now one’s faith be gone

And ye be destined to live alone anon.

The only hope is to begin anew

In which case hope, faith and belief will brew,

But charity in absentia remains,

For now there is no need.

On this full, bright day ye will see the sun

To allow us once more to love as one.

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