Pentecost rap

When the Holy Spirit came
our heads lit up with holy flame.
We overflowed with praise and joy;
the people who heard all said - oh boy!

Come Holy Spirit we welcome you!
Come Holy Spirit we welcome you!

How do they know just what to say
in languages that come from far away?
Three thousand were baptised that day
When the Holy Spirit came to stay.

Come Holy Spirit we welcome you!
Come Holy Spirit we welcome you.

We travelled round the world and taught
the great Good News that Jesus brought.
That's what the Church will always do,
So let's rejoice that God loves you!

Come Holy Spirit we welcome you!
Come Holy Spirit we welcome you!

Tabitha

We almost know her, don't we?

The lady of means, widowed,

giving her time to works of charity.

So skilled she is,

her hands provide good garments,

well made and durable,

respectful and respectable.

We can almost see her, too.

The noble brow,

the firm-lipped mouth,

the greying hair held neatly back,

the movements quite quick still,

getting on with life,

putting widowhood somewhere apart,

in the silence of the heart,

where pain must dwell,

but not be dwelt upon.

We can almost hear her too.

Practical, factual, kind;

a voice of cadences

that speak of kindnesses

and a most of all a heart aware.

Then one day she's not there.

The gap -

the silence -

the unmet need -

they must have been unbearable,

the unfilled space an aching void.

Tradition carries one,

one knows just what to do,

the helpful ritual.

Some comfort then

to wash the waxen limbs,

to comb the springy hair,

to clothe with fragrance

that which shortly starts to rot.

Some comfort, yes,

but not a lot.

So who first whispered,

who first dared to hope,

and what was said,

to birth their daring plan

to call upon the fisherman,

he of healing touch,

of whom they'd heard so much,

and what exactly did they hope?

Did they think, did they even know

that anything was possible,

and any hope permissible,

the walls of death now passable -

oh yes!

I think they did.

Hearing a new story in the old one.

I listened again today

as I'd listened inside me all week

at what God had to say

through the lesson that's set for today.

It's the moment unspeakable

unrepeatable

when first the risen Christ appears

and you imagine it was you

that saw him through your tears.

You imagine it was you

that simply wasn't there,

and tried hard not to care

through not believing,

but who, believing, worshipped.

All this I thought upon,

in a well-worn groove.

But this time I heard too

the alternative to Pentecost,

the simple breath,

the plain command, receive,

and that confident word,

"If you forgive..."

Notes on the nature of time

Time flies by when you're having fun
so easy lost so rarely won
Time drags when you are bored
What a waste of a valuable hoard


Youth passes by so quickly
While the lingerers grow old and sickly
Wait a minute turns to several hours
your valuable time this wait devours


There is nowhere to hide from time
It has no reason nor a rhyme
So enjoy your time, have a ball
because in the end time fooled us all


by dan green

My dear

I will fight not for queen nor country dear
I will fight not for my beliefs
I will fight only for you my dear,
as I go off to war

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On scarred and blackened battlefield,
I fight not for my life
I fight not for my comrades
For you my dear, I fight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I take this bullet for you my dear.
I fought for your defense.
I fought for you alone my dear
now I bid farewell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I die not for queen or country dear,
I die not for my beliefs.
I die only for you my dear,
when I went off to war.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

by dan green 2010

Is this the life? by Sally

Is this the life well chosen

Meticulously planned

In bullet points from nine to five

Will the poem scan?

Is it trimmed like city hedge

Or rampant gypsy rose

Will it trot with dressage steps

Clip one clip two clip three

Or scent the wind and toss the mane

Hang the humdrum take the leap

Swap daily bread for hyacinths

Risk all for fragile dreams

Is this the life well chosen

Prosaic or free verse

To feed the soul while belly groans

A poet in a garret bathed

In light from distant stars?

Requiem for a dead mallard

Consider the mallard:

as common as grass or trees

or rivers, streams and clouds

and treasures such as these,

so common we scarcely see them!

Consider his webbed feet!

They paddle gently to and fro

or part the water fast and neat

as from the air, so accurate,

he makes the change from flight to swim.

Consider this barred wing:

the marvel that he tucks way

in water world, that when unfurled

commands the air and makes it sing

as it gives its magic lift to him.

Consider now he's stilled by death

who comes to claim the holy breath

that gave this life?

Truly, the Lord of Life loves even these,

as common as grass and streams and trees.

So, passing by as dust returns to dust,

Let death await new birth

and leave his body

in the gentle earth.