Old man, wise man

sitting by the road, by the fire

returning the dreaming

to another in another place

Old man, young man who is my friend

Singing

By the road of Life

The fights too hard, too long

Shutting down the dreaming of your youth

By

the thoughts and meanings that

Enter your mind

Tell me, old man, young man, my friend

From where these came

This wish to

Sing yourself to sleep

I hear you

Old man, young man, my friend

Your hand trembles

The fights been long, your voice faint

Yet with what can you muster

The strength that remains

To hope for better days

Invoking a song long ago

Sung over you

By One who knows

Your name

Whose Anthem joins hands

Across time and space

Old man, young man, who is my friend

Take my hand

Together

Let’s arise

From the ashes of the fire

By the road

For

You are not alone as you

Call upon this ancient Song

From the north, south, east and west

The wind, sea, earth and fire

All sing the Song of Life

Halting the devils dance

The singing of

Death

You alone hold the power

To revoke

The dance

this singing of death

Old man, young man, who is my friend

Come

Amplify the Song of Life with me

Let it revive your weary bruised spirit

Side by side

We will stand

Extending the Spirit Torch

Igniting your song

Of life

Today’s the day

There’s no putting off 

There’s no going back

All bridges are crossed

A one-way ticket to

The rest of your life

How can this be you asked

And where have the years gone

It seems like only yesterday

I boarded this train

Fresh out of uni

A new graduate

Ready for the dawn of what was to come

A lot of water under the bridge you say

So many projects, people and places

If I could return

I’d do it all differently

Well no – not all of it

Just big chunks

But who’s to know

I’d be such a fool

Careless with things, people and life

So here I am

And

Today’s the day

Some call it retirement

I call it a time when I

Gather around me

All that I know

As I stand

At yet another dawn

Older, wiser, seasoned

Along the way

I’ve learned to be more careful

Of life, people and places

I’ve learned to be grateful

I’ve still got a ticket to

The rest of my life

Not all do

So I look ahead

Not behind

Gather my courage along with my bags

And

Say

Hello

For sunset and sunrise

Are one and the same

Madge

Arms akimbo Madge waltzed in

Marched right up to the counter

She’d been there before

Mrs James she said

You’ve got me down for 10

Had such a busy morning myself

Madge announced

As she proceeded to squeeze into the dainty corner chair

Surveying the room she called out

What’s your name luv

To the little girl playing by her mum

What’s making you so sad today?

Reaching into her bag Madge pulled out

A snickers and cartoon book

Here we go

That might cheer you up

I saw Madge a number of times

Always the same, same dainty chair

Same bag, same supplies

Her eyes scanning for ‘just the one’

Somehow she knew

Turned out Madge knew more than just

Who to shower her kindness on

For she had been told her days

Were numbered

My Gran said

All our days are numbered

She just knew how to spend them wisely

Thank you Madge

Now when I sit with my Gran as we often find ourselves doing

Sitting and waiting

I reach into my bag, eyes scanning for ‘just the one’

So should you see me

Give me a wink and I’ll know you know what I’m up to

Bob

Everyone likes Bob

The salt of the earth

Retired farmer

Now as familiar with the couch

As the tractor seat

He only came in on a Friday

Insisted he was doing the doc

A favour

And that was that

No-nonsense type of chap

It’s amazing how for a

Man of few words

The sun shone

From his eyes

As blue as the Aussie skies

He’s long studied

Not one to read

He’d whistle

Quietly to himself

So as no-one could hear

But of course we all could

Without looking his way

I’d count how long

Before

His catchy tune

Multiplied

Quietly of course

So as no-one can hear

One day

The whole waiting room

Echoed

A whistle here

A whistle there

His catchy little tune

Grew

And of course

Always quietly

So as no-one could hear

Everyone loved Bob

The waiting rooms the place to be

They’d say

Benita

Always on time

Was Benita

Bringing the smell

Of freshly baked bread

Hidden in a wicker basket

That hinged open

Like wings

Revealing

Tasty treats

Only 2 dollars a pop

She would walk through

The waiting rooms

Plying her wares

A bargain at hand

Over and over again

The sound of coins

Benita

Always beaming

The smiles for free

She would say

No matter how weary

She may have been

The smell of

Fresh bread

Brought life

To the rooms

And smiles

To faces

Not quite sure what it did

To waistlines

But really

Who cares?

I’ll take two

The smiles for free

I am fascinated by how much can be said with less.  How does one take the bigness of a God so grand that all the universe as we know it fits inside of Him, yet by His design He fits Himself into each one of us, a gift to the world.  Emanuel, the God who is with us.

For all those who wonder

Whose hearts are over-whelmed

By many things

Let’s remember

The gift

We are sent to earth

To deliver

Never seen before

Wrapped in the package

Of life

The world made beautiful

By one such as me

And you

Singing in harmony

We become

Perfect pitch

I’ve Got You

With those 3 words Jesus ushered me into a place in the Father’s heart never before possible.  Through them the sorrow of losing someone close to me became an encounter that transformed my life.

In my childhood I found a jesus with no arms

Or maybe it’s just that he kept them folded

Appearing to hear

Bring comfort but never put himself out on my behalf

A jesus who asked for surrender, praise, giving, my heart

Yet remained aloof

This was the only jesus I knew until

The day He came to me

Knelt beside me as I sobbed

‘Our Father’ he said

His arm surrounded me, gently yet with strength, solid

Almost audible he said ‘I’ve got you’

Words

A fascination with words and the realisation that even the smallest ones can act as hyperlinks to ideas, feelings and realms of possibilities sits underneath this piece. 

I love that words are doors

Waiting to be opened

Some are well signposted

So as you know what to expect

In fact

Some tell you exactly where to look

For that thing you don’t quite know what

I love that words are doors

Never sure which ones to

Open next

So whilst I’m waiting

I’ll just look around

And see

What’s in front of me

I love that words are doors

Mysteries

Adventures

Taking me to other lands

I’ve long known

One just needs the right 

key

HELP

I’ve been ripped off I hear myself cry

As it increasingly dawns on me, or maybe not so much as dawning as a niggling constant question

That

Comes off my spirit when I’m still enough to listen   It’s been persistent, causing me to look again

At

The Jesus I know, talk to, pray to, look for     Taking me to challenging, unsettling thoughts

That

Can only be settled by close scrutiny    Lurking in the shadows and alleyways of my life I find:

Banker Jesus

The Jesus who wants me to give more but doesn’t reward me saying I didn’t give with a right heart

Status Jesus

The Jesus without arms or ears who only listens to those with a special role which I don’t – I’m not the prophet, apostle, evangelist

Impotent Jesus

The Jesus who cares but doesn’t do anything – says I have to be patient, faults with me I have to try harder

Nice Jesus

This Jesus brings comfort.  The kind that calms the soul whilst nothing really changes – denying justice

Muscle Man Jesus

This one looks buff, preferring the self-effort of one’s own understanding –Tailored suits with empty pockets

Voter Jesus

Just stand up for a cause, he says, any one will do – As long as you are kept busy it doesn’t matter the outcome

Bit Thin Jesus

Kind of there – But not     If you know what I mean

Choir Boy Jesus

Says all the right things, butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth – but once the songs over he’s out of here

Busy Jesus

This Jesus triages the requests – says there’s so many coming across his desk you’ll have to take a number.  Even then if it’s not urgent …

Religious Jesus

So familiar is this one I almost didn’t see him.  He smells of incense and robes, equally as comfortable on mantle pieces as the cross – that is till you try to get him to come down

A chameleon he doubles up as the No Fun Jesus  Stay within the lines – nothing wrong with cookie cutters he says

He’s closely followed by the Up there Jesus

Come up here, come up higher.  He has no interest in the affairs of earth and has clearly never met Emmanuel

By now I’m tired of this charade, the chasing of shadows – rabbit warrens

So I say

Again

Would the Real Jesus Please Stand Up?