Book Week 2009

Book Week 2009 at the school where I work was once again alive with book character dressing up days, favourite book videos and an air of enjoyment by teachers and pupils alike. I dared to take part in the poetry readings meeting, albeit sticking to a relatively "safe" poem - no pupil likes to see a teacher cry after all!


The Peace of 6 a.m. on a Sunday

The peace of 6 a.m. on a Sunday.
A bird is singing in the trees.
It’s his wake up call to one and all,
He says “Join me if you please”

Join me in this new day,
But there is no work to be done,
Because Sunday’s here, it’s a day to revere
Let’s praise the Lord it’s come.

I shall sing here from the tree tops,
I shall sing here all day long.
For I love the peace of a Sunday,
But it’s the morning that fuels my song

It’s at 6 a.m. on a Sunday
That I choose to start my song.
The rest of the day other sounds start to play
So in the peace is where I belong.

My song sings out in the silence,
For nothing else do I hear.
Wake up now, it’s time to get up
With my song I draw you near.

Wake up from your sleepy slumber.
Cast the dreams aside for reality,
But if you cannot yet bear to be aware
Then relax and listen to me.

The peace of 6 a.m. on a Sunday,
There’s a shrill sound in the trees.
I thank the Lord for putting him there,
The bird wakes me up with ease.

I turn over under my duvet,
I curl up in a ball.
There’s a warmth in there from which I choose not to tear,
But I thank God for that bird so small.

Copyright EH 2008. All Rights reserved.

Your Love for Me

This poem came out of a worship evening at church where my mind was going over all that God has done for me over the past two years or so. This one is for Him.


Your Love for Me

I dance, you lead,
You provide when I need.

Your love is astounding,
Amazing is your grace.

You stand when I fall,
I return nothing, you give your all.

When I cry, you weep,
You give me love - to keep.

You are a rock when I am frail,
I sink, you provide the sail.

Your love is astounding,
Amazing is your grace,

That I dare to look
Upon your face,

And the eyes that have love
For me.

Copyright EH 2009. All rights reserved.

I've Found Them!

Oh JOY! I have found my poems! Praise God for small mercies for I have found my gold again... I'm too embarrassed to admit that it was under my bed all along. Apart from feeling silly about where they were, I can't express how relieved I am that they were not lost on a street somewhere in someone else's hands. Next step is type them up and back them up!

La Poésie C'est...

For the francophones out there, here are some notes on Poetry that I found in a French text book lying on the staff room table in France during a French exchange. It presents definitions of poetry from the mouths of famous French poets themselves:

La Poésie C’est…

…un pur don céleste (Du Bartas)
…faire une perle d’une larme (Musset)
…donner à voir (Eluard)
…de la musique avant toute chose (Verlaine)
…une grappe d’images (Bachelard)
…l’art d’évoquer les minutes heureuses (Baudelaire)
…une imitation et une peinture (Fénelon)
…comme des lunettes. C’est pour mieux voir… (Siméon)
…tout ce qu’il y a d’intime dans tout (Hugo)
…les mots qui disent le monde et qui disent l’homme (Eluard)


The fact that the definitions are written in French makes them seem to me like poetry themselves. "...to make a pearl from a tear (Musset)" reminds me of the Psalm writers of the bible and how God can change our dark clouds to sunshine if we just stick with him through any trial (see Blog entry 17 January 2009)

Gold has less value

I'm gutted. I've lost a note book of poems. You only realise the true personal value of things when they are gone.

Being wiped out from work has prevented me from keeping up to date electronic records of my poems or updating this blog in recent months. However, fortunately, I had typed up in full the key ones from the 30 or so that were in the book. Nevertheless, having also typed up the titles of those that I didn't have time to type out in full simply means that I know what I have lost. A few poems never made it to my electronic records in any shape or form at all so will be lost completely. It's a lesson in learning to let things go if anything.

Note to self: type poems up regularly in future and back up at all times!

I'll re post if the book turns up - bright pink cover with white swirls and an orange number "5" sticker if anyone who knows me happens to find it.

From Clouds to Rain

The sermon I listened to last Sunday (6.30 pm, 11 Jan 2009) was about how God provides us with the grace that we need when we need it. In other words it is not in our own strength that we make it through our trials but, in allowing ourselves to lean on Him, God's power becomes perfect in our weakness (2 Cor 12: 7-10). He won't necessarily lift us out of our troubles but will be with us through them, often using the troubles themselves to transform us into the people he wants us to be (Hosea 2: 14-15).

Below is a poem that I wrote when I was watching some dark clouds in the sky, which were symbolic at the time, and realised that if we can just bear to sit still (it's a rocky road at times!) and take what comes our way we will become stronger as we are sustained by God's love for us. In fact the bigger the clouds the more God pours out his love and grace to us! By working through it we emerge triumphant the other end. The context in which I wrote it may be different from yours now, but the rain still falls from the clouds, whatever the context. So for those who need encouragement...

From Clouds to Rain

I love it when the pictures you give me
Come alive and true.
For here I am with stretched open arms
Singing my praise to you.

It’s raining outside,
There are clouds above,
But peace they bring
Like your willing dove.

For the darker the clouds,
The heavier the rain
To cleanse me with
Your love again.

I shall rejoice when I see them,
The dark clouds in the sky,
For although trouble comes
Your love shall also pass by,

To visit me
And sustain me within,
To shine a light
On any remaining sin,

To cleanse me of dirt,
To make me as white as snow,
To come again and again,
This truth I now know.

So come on then dark clouds,
Do your greatest will.
For triumph will follow
If I have the courage to sit still.

Copyright EH 2007. All Rights Reserved.