I cannot remember a time when I did not write poetry. I can remember finding this in my daughter's book when she was 7:-
'It is snowing, it is glistening,
It is time for Jesus' christening'
and thinking 'chip off the old block!'.
There will be poems from other sources too,all acknowledged.
Sunday again: the old accustomed pew:
Beams high above: beneath,familiar blue:
Welcoming faces-David, Val and Sue:
All family, and close: but Lord, so few!
While 'two or three together gathered are '
The kids play out. Nan knits. Dad cleans the car.
Sunday refreshment. Pain shared, problems shed:
We pray, and praise: our Father's word is read :
We kneel again to share in wine and bread
And we are filled,while hundreds go unfed.
'Glory to Father, Son ,and Holy Ghost '....
.. The TV blares. Dad snores. Mum bastes the roast.
Sunday. The stained-glass window pictures glow
In the late sunlight. Blessed before we go
We bow obedient heads. Row by neat row
Jack stacks the books. We chat. Goodbyes are slow.
' Go forth in peace, to love and serve the Lord '....
Monday tomorrow. Shops are shut. I'm bored!!