a tree
God
is a tree said Kabir
a tree in the forest; when the woodsmen come
to cut Him down
He will not defend Himself
He will not shame them.
And God, he said,
is the earth
an endless wonder
that allows Himself
to be ruined b
And so the season changes
Posted on by James Woodward
Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night’s decay
Ushers in a drearier da
Inhabiting RS Thomas on his own soil
Posted on by James Woodward
It is a long way from Salisbury to the Llyn Peninsula. This was a pilgrimage of sorts to the RS Thomas Poetry Festival. https://rsthomaspoetry.co.uk/ The slow and wet journey north was worth every turn in the road and queue ad a number of spea
Patience
Posted on by James Woodward
patience
An absolute
patience.
Trees stand
up to their knees in
fog. The fog
slowly flows
uphill.
White
cobwebs, the grass
leaning where deer
have looked for apples.
The woods
from brook to where
the top of the hill looks
over the fog, sen
of grief …. and getting past it
Posted on by James Woodward
Starlings in Winter
by Mary Oliver
Chunky and noisy,
but with stars in their black feathers,
they spring from the telephone wire
and instantly
they are acrobats
in the freezing wind.
And now, in the theater of air,
they swing over buildings,
dipping and
Patience
Posted on by James Woodward
An absolute
patience.
Trees stand
up to their knees in
fog. The fog
slowly flows
uphill.
White
cobwebs, the grass
leaning where deer
have looked for apples.
The woods
from brook to where
the top of the hill looks
over the fog, send up
not one bird.
So ab
Reading David Whyte – Consolations
Posted on by James Woodward
We live in strange times. Listening to this mornings news adds to the complexity and anxiety. The junior doctors strike which informs us to avoid being ill this week. The advance of AI and its implications for our knowing and understanding. The preparations for the
‘Bedtime’ Reading : Super- Infinite: The Transformations of John Donne
Posted on by James Woodward
Being confined to quarters while a bout of flu ( or something - I have never been very good at diagnosis ) and amidst cancelling appointments ( sorry ) and searching for paracetemol brings some gifts. Determined to leave the e mails to answer themselves ( wouldn't th
Hearing God in Poetry by Richard Harries
Posted on by James Woodward
Hearing God in Poetry
Fifty Poems for Lent and Easter
Richard Harries SPCK 2022
This is the time of the year when some turn to the possibility of taking something up for the season of Lent as part of a pilgrimage of disciplined and intentional spiritual learn
Poetry and Dementia
Posted on by James Woodward
Poetry and Dementia: A Practical Guide
John Killick
Jessica Kingsley Publishers 2017 ISBN: 9781785921766 £16.99
I wonder what your relationship to poetry is? I have met some people that simply do not get this way of expression; others who simply have
Poetry on Sunday
Posted on by James Woodward
a lyrical manifesto for large-hearted living.
Walk through life
Beautiful more than anything
Stand in the sunlight
Walk through life
Love all the things
That make you strong,
be lovers, be anything
For
The Windows
Posted on by James Woodward
The Windows
Lord, how can man preach thy eternall word?
He is a brittle crazie glasse:
Yet in thy temple thou dost him afford
This glorious and transcendent place,
To be a window, through thy grace.
But when thou dost anneal
understanding people ?
Posted on by James Woodward
Affinity
Consider this man in the field beneath,
Gaitered with mud, lost in his own breath,
Without joy, without sorrow,...
Without children, without wife,
Stumbling insensitively from furrow to furrow,
A vague somnambulist; but hold your tears,
For his name also is written
Glass
Posted on by James Woodward
glass
It is like the light coming through blue stained glass,
Yet not quite like it,
For the blueness is not transparent,
Only translucent.
Her soul's light shines through,
But her soul cannot be seen.
It is something elusive, whimsical, tender, wanton, childlike, wise
Praying for Peace
Posted on by James Woodward
and listening to the voices ......
Erich Fried
When we were the persecuted
I was one of you
How can I remain one
when you become the persecutors?
Your longing was
to become like other nations
who murdered you
Now you have become like them
empty hands
Posted on by James Woodward
they go there with empty hands
What do they do,
The singers, tale writers, dancers, painters,
Shapers, makers?
They go there with empty hands, into
The gap between.
They come back with things in their hands.
They go silent and come back with words, with tunes.
They g
Tulip
Posted on by James Woodward
tulip
Perhaps the tulip knows about impermanence
and that is why, on a green stem
it carries a wine cup in the wilderness
Hafiz, (re)transl. Tom Davis
Light
Posted on by James Woodward
light
O splendour of what is, by which I saw
the high delight, the true communion:
please show me how to say all I could see.
Up there there is a light. The light is God.
Creation contemplates its own creator,
and only in that seeing is there peace.
It stretches in a
Blossom
Posted on by James Woodward
blossom
There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.
From Li-Young Lee, From Blossoms
people vote for different reasons!
Posted on by James Woodward
crystal
I am unjust, but I can strive for justice.
My life's unkind, but I can vote for kindness.
I, the unloving, say life should be lovely.
I, that am blind, cry out against my blindness.
Man is a curious brute — he pets his fancies —
Fighting mankind, t