Only Stones

The Lord would build Himself a temple
And to His Holy Place He comes -
Shekinah Glory's radiant presence
In only stones.

Satan seeks Messiah's downfall
Forty days he fasts alone
Fortified by Father's word, whilst rocks
Stay only stones

"Hosanna In the highest heaven!
Blessed is the King who comes!"
Silence men, and still the cry rings out -
From only stones.

Mike Wood March 1989

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Sky Joy

Fly a patch of joy
In the sunlit sky;

Tie a splash of colour
And fly it high;

Catch a patch of wind
And hold it tight -

Snatch a captive cloud
And call it

'KITE!'

---

Brown Knowl

The sunrise brings the quiet
Riot of bird voice.
Each bird will sing its sonnet
On its proud bough of choice
It will rejoice
In silencing the quiet.

The sun is rising higher,
Shyer birds awake
And join their rising voices.
"Rejoice!" says the hymn, "Let's shake
Cool skies to make
The sun a warming fire!"

As noon now gains its summit
Won its proudest height,
The birds will rest from feeding
Needing rest and quiet
Until delight
With praise has won it.

As dusk begins to darken
Harken to the shrill
Cacophony of calling
Stalling, at last to still
At last until
Both marsh and meadow quieten.

Mike Wood 2005

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Beeston Castle

Written in June '95 on a school staff INSET day at Beeston!

Old stones,
Selected for secure defence
Weathered into insecurity;
Raw red sandstone
Marinated in history,
Pierced and plundered by
A slanting shaft of concrete.

The stones that resisted so long
Now enlisted in the captivity
Of a host of paying patrons
Conniving at the weather's wearisome work
Whereby the castellated towers
Crumbled to an easy entrance.

The gates which resisted so long
The enemy's battering tree-trunk
And the soldier' solemn siege
Now widen their wanton welcome
Admitting an easy entrance
For a pauper's ransom.

The guarded gated garrison
Despoiled, yet displayed and arrayed
For the everyday enemy's visit.
The unimpressed schoolchild
Permitted an easier entrance
Than the strongest adult -
The solemn sullen centuries
Culminate in cheap surrender.

The waisted well
Once succour to beleaguered sentinels
No longer proves protection for a hoard
Has substituted gold and silver's pretty penny
For a confetti of discarded wrappers.

This once serried eminence,
Ranulf's pride and joy
Is echoingly mocked across the valley
By Peckforton's young pretender.

Mike Wood

---

Serious Sin...

How serious is sin?
It cannot be...
For from every sin I sin
I can be free.
Freed from the guilt
And power by the flood
Of cleansing grace - the Saviour's blood.

How serious is sin?
It surely is...
For every sin I sin
The pain is His -
Torn from His flesh
And agonised His heart
And every sin of mine has played a part.

---

The Face of the Waters

Poem written during the 'Tides & Seasons Quiet Day' run by Chester Diocese

And the Spirit of God moved on the face of the waters
Urging gentle eddies that lightly score the surface
Distorting heaven's calm reflection
But multiplying it into a myriad of complex images;
And the body of water beneath was barely disturbed.

And the Spirit of God moved on the face of the waters
Generating gentle whispered waves
With a regularity that hushes shingle shell sounds
Around a million margins;
And the body of water beneath was barely disturbed.

And the Spirit of God moved on the face of the waters
Heaving higher whitened crests
Prominently parting the travelling troughs;
And the body of water beneath was barely disturbed.

And the Spirit of God moved on the face of the waters
Amassing might mountainous seas,
Steadily storming heaven itself;
And the body of water beneath was barely disturbed.

But the seabed throughout remained unmoved.
Mike Wood June 2007

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