Light

Harriet’s Gift

For Harriet, and for Devizes; a poem for Advent

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Today, my dear friend Harriet gave to me

A tiny glittery nativity

Like Russian dolls, the size of half a thumb

A tiny Joseph Dad and Mary Mum

And Jesus, smaller than a fingernail

Such tiny things to tell so grand a tale

And as she pressed them in my hand her eyes

So bright and hopeful, old and kind and wise

Were simply brimming with that shining light

That fuelled the star that lit that mystic night

Some weeks ago, she gifted me a stone

Found on a beach where she had walked alone

All gold and smooth from rolling ocean’s wear

For me to hold in moments of despair

And there were candles then, that she had lit

Upon the table where we sometimes sit

And then, like now, I very nearly cried

So touched by all the love she has inside

If only love and Christmas were like this

All simple joy, delight and friendly kiss

All gentleness, all light and subtle sheen

Like all the things in her that I have seen

I wish you joy, like Harriet wishes me

A Christmas full of love; all blesséd be

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by Gail

Darkness Becoming Visible; November

St. Mary's

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For the congregations of St. John’s and St. Mary’s, Devizes

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Within a pumpkin’s hollow is a candle burning bright

We have prayed the dead to silence, we have sent them to the light

Bring in dark November, let the winter cold begin

Stick the heating on and let the Saints come marching in

There will be icy dawns and fireworks, dank leaves and naked trees

We shall wish for Christmas jumpers to protect against the freeze

Is it colder now than last year?  Oh, where did the year go

By the time we’ve got a grip we will be sliding in the snow

We will remember that November gives birth to the Advent season

And that once the knives were out for Fawkes for gunpowder and treason

We shall wish for bonfires high enough to chase the night away

As we watch the winter shadows fill the corners of the day

We have been tricked, we have been cheated; now it’s all downhill from here

Until we come to rest, at Christmas, when a new light will appear

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by Gail

The Angel of the Fence

The Angel of the Fence

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The air is rarified up on the fence

As clear as far as watered eye can see

All silken blue, all glittered light intense

Translucent fathoms of infinity

Way down below, a long stone’s drop away

Through depths of fog and lazy clouded streams

The land lies; half in shadow, half in day

Divided by the fence in two extremes

New womb from yearning grave, dark black from white

The right from left, cool blue from burning red

Each country hidden from the other’s sight

Like crazy virgins doomed to never wed;

The angel of the fence can only pray

Don’t send me down there now, Lord, not today

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by Gail

Preacher Man

the crazy preacher man

he speaks

to me

I and the crowd

hypnotised

confused

and squinting

his shadow stands

before the sun

his silver words

are slivering

forth from ancient nets

fisher of men

gathering

it may be so

maybe it was

ever so

and so

some say

it may well

ever be

yet know ye this

that nothing new

shall ever stand

against the sun

and speak as He

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by Gail

Strange Poets

light on metal

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strange poets never cease but to amaze

with words describing things we had forgot

or never knew to start with; who knows what

may move another poet’s muse to phrase

the simply indescribable in rhyme

within a string of sentences enshrine

the essence of complexity sublime

with every word a jewel within a line

strange poets see things hidden in the light

and force the formless mist within to matter

express the indefinable and flatter

dead love to life and nothingness to sight;

by use of sense and symbol and the will

they stir to movement that which once was still

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by Gail