Category Archives: imagination

For the Feast of Christ The King

We come now to a feast of Ends and Beginnings! This Sunday is the last Sunday in the cycle of the Christian year, which ends with the feast of Christ the King, and next Sunday we begin our journey through time to eternity once more, with the first Sunday of Advent. We might expect the Feast of Christ the King to end the year with climactic images of Christ enthroned in Glory, seated high above all rule and authority, one before whom every knee shall bow, and of course those are powerful and important images, images of our humanity brought by him to the throne of the Heavens. But alongside such images we must also set the passage in Matthew (25:31-46) in which Christ reveals that even as He is enthroned in Glory, the King who comes to judge at the end of the ages, he is also the hidden King, hidden beneath the rags and even in the flesh of his poor here on earth.

This passage in Matthew is especially challenging to us now in the midst of a major refugee crisis triggered by the dreadful violence in Syria and Iraq. We can and should make a compassionate response, even though that response is shadowed by our fears of terrorist infiltration. It should be possible to be alert to and vet those malicious persons who might try to infiltrate themselves amongst genuine refugees. But it is clear that the huge numbers of widows and children in desperate need are no threat to anyone, but rather themselves threatened by the terrorists whom we oppose. There is no reason for a proper caution about infiltration to inhibit a genuine and generous response to crisis.I wrote this sonnet some years before the present Crisis, but Christ’s words, on which this poem reflects, seem more vital and more needed than ever.

Here is a sonnet written in response to the gospel reading for the feast of Christ the King.

This sonnet comes at the end of my sequence ‘Sounding the Seasons’ published by Canterbury Press.

The book is available in North america from Steve Bell here, or Amazon here

You can hear the sonnet by clicking on the ‘play’ button if it appears, or by clicking on the title.

Christ The King

Mathew 25: 31-46

Our King is calling from the hungry furrows
Whilst we are cruising through the aisles of plenty,
Our hoardings screen us from the man of sorrows,
Our soundtracks drown his murmur: ‘I am thirsty’.
He stands in line to sign in as a stranger
And seek a welcome from the world he made,
We see him only as a threat, a danger,
He asks for clothes, we strip-search him instead.
And if he should fall sick then we take care
That he does not infect our private health,
We lock him in the prisons of our fear
Lest he unlock the prison of our wealth.
But still on Sunday we shall stand and sing
The praises of our hidden Lord and King.


Filed under imagination, Poems

All Hallow’s Eve; a sonnet of reclamation

The dark is bright with quiet lives and steady lights undimmed

Halloween seems to be creeping up on Christmas in the crass commercialism stakes, even here in England, where the tradition is less strong! Halloween itself simply means the eve of all Hallows, and All Hallows is the Christian feast of All Saints, or All Saints Day’ a day when we think particularly of those souls in bliss who, even in this life, kindled a light for us, or to speak more exactly, reflected for us and to us, the already-kindled light of Christ!,  It is followed immediately on November 2nd by All Souls Day. the day we remember all the souls who have gone before us into the light of Heaven.  It is good that we should have a season of the year for remembrance and a time when we feel that the veil between time and eternity is thin and we can sense that greater and wider communion of saints to which we belong. It is also good and right that the Church settled this feast on a time in the turning of the year when the pre-Christian Celtic religions were accustomed to think of and make offerings for the dead. But it was right that, though they kept the day, they changed the custom. The greatest and only offering, to redeem both the living and the dead, has been made by Christ and if we want to celebrate our loving connections we need only now make gifts to the living, as we do in offering sweets to the ‘trick or treaters’ in this season, and far more profoundly in exchanging gifts at Christmas.

Anyway given that both these seasons of hospitality and exchange have been so wrenched from their first purpose in order to sell tinsel and sweeties, I thought I might redress the balance a little and reclaim this season with a sonnet for All Souls/All Saints that remembers the light that shines in darkness, who first kindled it, and how we can all reflect it.

If your church is marking all saints or all souls day do feel free to print the words or use the recording.

The image which follows this poem, and takes up one of its key lines, is by Margot Krebs Neale. As always you can hear the poem by clicking on the ‘play’ button if it appears, or on the title.

This sonnet are  from Sounding the Seasons, the collection of my sonnets for the church year, published by Canterbury Press,

All Saints

Though Satan breaks our dark glass into shards

Each shard still shines with Christ’s reflected light,

It glances from the eyes, kindles the words

Of all his unknown saints. The dark is bright

With quiet lives and steady lights undimmed,

The witness of the ones we shunned and shamed.

Plain in our sight and far beyond our seeing

He weaves them with us in the web of being

They stand beside us even as we grieve,

The lone and left behind whom no one claimed,

Unnumbered multitudes, he lifts above

The shadow of the gibbet and the grave,

To triumph where all saints are known and named;

The gathered glories of His wounded love.

‘Each shard still shines’ image by Margot Krebs Neale


Filed under christianity, imagination, literature, Poems

A Sonnet for St. Luke

St. Luke accompanied by his ‘creature’ the winged ox

This Sunday, the 18th of October is the feast day of St. Luke the Physician and Evangelist and I am posting this a little early as there may be churches or individuals who would like to use it this Sunday. It comes from Sounding the Seasons, my series of sonnets for the church year.  My sonnets, in that series, present the four Evangelists together and the imagery in those sonnets is influenced  by the images of the four living creatures round the throne of God and the tradition that each of these creatures represents both an aspect of Christ and one of the four Evangelists.

‘...since there are four zones of the world in which we live, and four principal winds, while the Church is scattered throughout all the world, and the “pillar and ground” of the Church is the Gospel and the spirit of life it is fitting that she should have four pillars, breathing out immortality on every side, and vivifying men afresh. From which fact, it is evident that the Word, the Artificer of all, He that sitteth upon the cherubim, and contains all things, He who was manifested to men, has given us the Gospel under four aspects, but bound together by one Spirit. ‘  St. Irenaeus of Lyons  (ca. 120-202 AD)  –  Adversus Haereses 3.11.8

For a good account of this tradition click here. I am drawing my inspiration both from the opening page image of each Gospel in the Lindesfarne Gospels and also from the beautiful account of the four living creatures given by St. Ireneus, part of which I quote above.  As always you can hear the poem by clicking the ‘play’ button if it appears or clicking on the title of the poem. The photographer Margot Krebs Neale has again provided a thought-provoking photograph to interpret the poem, in this case one taken by her son Oliver.  The book with these sonnets was published by Canterbury Press  and is available from all the usual amazons etc.

As well as being himself a Physician, and therefore the patron saint of doctors and all involved in healing ministry, Luke is also the patron of artists and painters. His gospel seems to have a particular connection with those on the margins of his society. In Luke we hear the voices of women more clearly than in any other gospel, and the claims and hope of the poor in Christ find a resonant voice.


His gospel is itself a living creature

A ground and glory round the throne of God,

Where earth and heaven breathe through human nature

And One upon the throne sees it is good.

Luke is the living pillar of our healing,

A lowly ox, the servant of the four,

We turn his page to find his face revealing

The wonder, and the welcome of the poor.

He breathes good news to all who bear a burden

Good news to all who turn and try again,

The meek rejoice and prodigals find pardon,

A lost thief reaches paradise through pain,

The voiceless find their voice in every word

And, with Our Lady, magnify Our Lord.

Thanks to Margot Krebs Neale for this image


Filed under christianity, imagination, literature, Poems

I Am the Light of the World

it shimmers through the living leaves of summer

it shimmers through the living leaves of summer

‘Light’ is the theme for this years twenty-first anniversary National Poetry Day, which falls today, so I thought I’d share my sonnet on Jesus’ saying ‘I Am the Light of the World’. This is one of a sequence on the seven ‘I Am’ sayings in John’s Gospel which will itself be part of a longer series on the sayings of Jesus called ‘Parable and Paradox’ to be published by Canterbury Press next year. The opening lines of the poem are an allusion to a famous saying of CS Lewis, which is now carved on his memorial in Poet’s Corner:

 “I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen. Not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.”

The final couplet develops the motif of turning upstream towards Christ as the source of the river of light and life, an image I first used in my sonnet Pilgrimage, in Memory of Kate Gross and which is drawn partly from St. John of the Cross’s beautiful poem ‘ Although it is the Night’

As always you can hear me read the poem by clicking on the title or the ‘play’ button.

I Am the Light of the World

“I am the light of the world; he who follows Me shall not walk in the darkness, but shall have the light of life.” John 8:12


I see your world in light that shines behind me,

Lit by a sun whose rays I cannot see,

The smallest gleam of light still seems to find me

Or find the child who’s hiding deep inside me.

I see your light reflected in the water,

Or kindled suddenly in someone’s eyes,

It shimmers through the living leaves of summer,

Or spills from silver veins in leaden skies,

It gathers in the candles at our vespers

It concentrates in tiny drops of dew

At times it sings for joy, at times it whispers,

But all the time it calls me back to you.

I follow you upstream through this dark night

My saviour, source, and spring, my life and light.

The Lewis memorial in Westminster Abbey

The Lewis memorial in Westminster Abbey

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Filed under christianity, imagination, Poems

A Website Revamp (and cheese…)

poets curdle words until they bite

poets curdle words until they bite

This is just to let you know that I have had a little go at simplifying and improving this website. The blog works just as it always did and still gives you new poems and a searchable archive of all the old ones, together with recordings of them all. You can now use the tabs above to navigate to the Books Events and Home pages which have all been updated. There is a new page (also clickable on the tabs above called ‘Interviews‘ which gathers in one place links to various interviews I have given about my work, life and faith, particularly to the sequence of interviews on Lancia Smith’s excellent website Cultivating The True The Good and the Beautiful.

The other new thing is that I now have a dedicated email address for any enquiries about readings, lectures or performances, which is and can be found permanently on the Home Page. I hope these simplifications and improvements will be helpful.

In other news, here is a poem about cheese (and poetry)! As usual you can hear the poem by clicking on the title or the ‘play’ button.

‘The Poets Have Been Mysteriously Silent About Cheese’ GK Chesterton


Poets have been silent about cheese

Because whilst every  subject is the message,

Cheese is the very medium of their work.

We drink in language with our mothers milk,

But poets curdle words until they bite,

With substance and a flavour of their own:

So Donne is sharp and Geoffrey Hill is sour,

Larkin ascerbic, Tennyson has power

(But only taken late at night with port.)

,I like them all and sample every sort

From creamy Keats with his ‘mossed cottage trees’,

Tasting the words themselves like cottage cheese,

To Eliot, difficult, in cold collations,

Crumbling, and stuffed with other folk’s quotations.


Filed under imagination, Poems

Everything Holds Together

A while back I had an interesting, and indeed beautiful request from the talented singer-songwriter Alana Levandoski. She was making a new Album which would be a musical meditation on the great Hymn to Christ in the first chapter of Paul’s Letter to the Colossians, would I write a poem on Colossians 1:15-17 and read it so it could be woven into the music? I would be working alongside other poets like Scott Cairns and Luci Shaw. Would I do it? You bet I would!

here are the verses in Colossians that were the starting point:

He is the image of the unseen God, the first-born of all creation, for in him were created all things in heaven and on earth: everything visible and everything invisible, thrones, ruling forces, sovereignties, powers — all things were created through him and for him. He exists before all things and in him all things hold together.

Now the Album, Behold I Make All Things New, has come out and it is beautiful! Here is the poem. the Greek phrase in the poem ‘Eikon tou theou, means image of God and is taken directly from the Greek text of Paul’s letter

Everything Holds Together


Everything holds together, everything,

From stars that pierce the dark like living sparks,

To secret seeds that open every spring,

From spanning galaxies to spinning quarks,

Everything holds together and coheres,

Unfolding from the center whence it came.

And now that hidden heart of things appears,

The first-born of creation takes a name.


And shall I see the one through whom I am?

Shall I behold the one for whom I’m made,

The light in light, the flame within the flame,

Eikon tou theou, image of my God?

He comes, a little child, to bless my sight,

That I might come to him for life and light.

As usual you can hear me read it by clicking on the title or play button, but better still you can hear it with Alana’s music, hear the other three poems that are woven in with it and see the beautiful paintings by Julie Ann Stevens that go with the Album. You can check out Alana’s website here.



Filed under christianity, imagination, Music, paintings, Poems

Whoever Welcomes

Icon of Christ with the Children

Icon of Christ with the Children

I come now to a reflection on the passage in chapter 9 in Mark’s gospel in which Jesus welcomes the child into the midst and then unfolds for us the very meaning of welcome, indeed unfolds the whole Gospel as a kind of welcome:

Mark 9 :36-37

Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, ‘Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.’


I love the way each welcome seems nested and folded inside the other and it prompted this sonnet as part of my work in progress ‘Parable and Paradox. It was just after I had finished writing this poem that I first saw the terrible image of Aylan Kurdie’s little body washed up on the beach which only gave added urgency to our need to recover a gospel of welcome. In some ways this sonnet is a companion piece to my sonnet ‘Be Opened’

As always you can hear the sonnet by clicking on the title or the ‘play’ button

Whoever Welcomes

‘Welcome’, the word is always on your lips,

Each welcome warms another one inside,

An interleaving of relationships,

An open door where arms are open wide.

First welcome to the child and through the child

A welcome to the Saviour of the world

And through the Saviour’s welcome all are called

Home to the Father’s heart. Each call is curled

And nested in another, as you were

Nested and nestled in your mother’s womb,

As Mary carried One who carried her,

And we are wrapped in you, deep in the tomb,

Where you turn our rejection into welcome,

And death itself becomes our welcome home.



Filed under christianity, imagination