My Little Adventures, Poetry

The Little Surfer

Waves crash against my heart
With the strength of a hundred voices
From the deepest ocean part
Giving me strength to make bold choices.

My nimble limbs hang onto thee,
Oh smallest of all ships of man
And though you bruise and twist my knee
You take me safely to dry land.

A wave is like a thousand tales,
With many plots and twists and turns
Some raised with offshore veils,
Others bold from ground swell storms.

The captain of the ships stands strong,
With the whole sea against his chest
‘Don’t be afraid to get it wrong.’
He gives us courage when we rest.

Why do we ride the waves?
Are we worthy of their strength?
We can’t tame them, only gaze
How our spirits bind at length.

Now I sit here, on this train,
Filled with bruises, cuts and burns
But the biggest wound of all
Is leaving heaven at Sagres.

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Chasing the Light, Chasing the Light Poetry, Poetry

The Invisible King

Light, light of the heavens above,
Where shinest thou, we are bare of love.
Light that fillest the earth,
Invisible king of wisdom, give birth
To hearts that will lead us on the path
Which shows a calling we had before wrath,

Darkness approaches but we are aflame,
Hiding our voices in the howlin rain,
Our minds bring words to search for your face,
But our hearts sculpt your likeness in the hidden place
You are forever silent but we know how you speak,
Holding the keys to the kingdom we seek.

(From Voice Mountain and Chasing the Light)

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Chasing the Light Poetry, Poetry

They Speak of Truth

Christ my Lord, my love, my truth,
In my heart you are forever king,
But people try to lock your voice
In endless chains of suffering.

They speak of virtue, art and meaning,
But are afraid to speak Your name
They seek the light and softly mould their words,
And drown Thy presence in names of fame.

I ache, for I have been transformed,
Through crafts of men that seek the truth,
My friend, it is not you that brightens up the day
But thy eternal Father, who brings you youth.

So I must speak…Christ, Christ, Christ!
The sweetest Word in all the world,
I need not movement nor technique
To weep in silence at Your feet.

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Formal and Polite, Poetry

The Shiny Shoes

Hubert Rhubarb makes great shoes
Of all sizes, shines and soles,
Him, George Ginger and Bob Booze,
Are co-craftsmen at “Stuffed Holes”.

They’re all shoeglots from the Shoeglot clan
With round noses, crass hands and tiny feet,
They shuffle quickly with their plan,
To make bright shoes for King Plum’s fleet.

Hubert Rhubarb was ordered by the king
To make the brightest shoes of all,
‘My men’s feet should sparkle as this ring,
When sailing back with the victory call’.

On the day of King Plum’s battle
The men shone bright from head to toe.
They were so proud they caused a rattle
Competing in whose shoes had the best glow.

The enemy fleet of King Pomhen
Sailed anxiously to meet its doom,
But seeing the distracted men
They shook off their prior gloom.

King Plum’s soldiers stared at their shoes
Flinging their swords round without aim,
Neither brother nor king made such great muse
As gawping at their feet, bent, without shame.

The king returned with a dozen men
Weeping that their feet were bare
The king wrote to “Stuffed Holes” again
‘From now, dull shoes are my men to wear.’

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