catholic, Christian Science, islam, Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Uncategorized

Poem for Arran and the Holy Isle

Oh draw near, Great Love Divine,  and sooth my waiting mind.

Whiting Bay and Holy Isle, surely all are thine, within my heart appears the long forgotten saints.

Passing holy hours, like a tired monk I wait to find you in the maze of liturgies and pathways.

My naked head does burn, like earthly passions turn, to a higher calling, to vistas set eternal.

With a yearning voice so strong, I turn to what I long, to find my peace in thee.

May the mountains of the isles teach me humility of heart, to see beyond the peaks of shortcomngs to higher views of Love.

The sweeping vistas of Love, higher than the highest peak, swirling winds appear.

The joy of meeting departed ones, to commune again on the shores of thine Isles, I wait, I come.



Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Uncategorized

A Prayer at the sea at Largs – a Poem

In this poem I am trying to capture the moment of surrender which we all feel between states of consciousness, life and death, struggle and surrender as well as passionate moments of ecstasy.

Yearning for your hand to touch mine, stretching farther to the beach. then withdrawing in sadness and returning to your world.

In your moments of desperation, you come and take whom you wish, reaching far on to the road in anger.

The moment of change, when your hand touches mine, the moment where life and death combine and we join as one.

Our minds wrestle with our old lives for a moment, memories of my childhood, school and perhaps the womb.

In an eternal world, where their is no life or death, only expressions of Love and forms changing.

Moving through eternity,  like water merging with water, with no chance to cling to shapes before they vanish before our eyes in chasms of beauty.

Mermaids move before me with flashes of cyan light, which resemble distant people and voices.

Seeing my family again, oh the joy  as they become recognisable a second time, the smiles and forms as they welcome me.

The expressions of infinite beauty which I called my parents, to go higher knowing they were expressions of a greater Love and a greater God.

I fall into the arms of another, he reaches over my mouth and kisses and caresses me for a lifetime.

The intensity of an orgasmic  moment, lighting the sky with flashes of blue light and the mermaids with their cyan brighter green.

Caressed by shadowy forms of people in the darkness, their touch awakening every part of my senses.

A dark hand comes from the passion and I take it,  a struggle begins pushing him away, but he is stronger and I lie motionless, thrown to the floor.

He lifts my arm and lays perfume on my wrist. Massaging my arm as I feel his warm hand touching me.

Then I awake to splutter water, a green uniform kneeling before me and an ambulance flashing blue light in the dark night.

My memories of infinity fade as the man before me approaches my mouth again beating my chest and pumping out water.

My wrist feels strange as a woman wipes an antiseptic rub before inserting a needle and they carry me away to the ambulance.

The ambulance  is parked by the monastery,  where their is hope,  faint glow and a curtain moves.












Kilbirnie / North Ayrshire, Poems, Uncategorized

Poem about Kilbirnie #NorthAyrshire: The Mossend Mine

The Mossend Mine

While walking near the Mossend mine
I chanced upon a flower
I stopped and stared at beauty spent
and passed away the hour

Her leaves were yellow daffodils
where bees would pass the time
watching men go underground
While entering the mine

Her stem did sway with summer breeze
she slumbered on the brink
like a burdened miner walks
whilst thirsting for a drink

Suddenly a voice I heard
transported back in time
young men with blackened faces walked
deep inside that mine

Awaking, flowers, buttercups
Blessed me on my way
Whilst haunting thoughts of distant past
I carried through my day

So if a flower does call you back
to places, lands of yore,
dwell not in the realm of dreams
take only what is yours

Perhaps your flower is yet to come
in mountain, thoughts or clime
ne’er mind the times of centuries old
now is your only time

Christian Science, Uncategorized

Mrs Eddy´s Poem January 1 1866


Pass on, returnless year! The track behind thee is with glory crowned; The turf where thou hast trod is holy ground. Pass proudly to thy bier!

Chill was thy midnight day, While Justice grasped the sword to hold her throne, And on her altar our loved Lincoln’s own Great willing heart did lay.
Thy purpose hath been won! Thou point’st thy phantom finger, grim and cold, To the dark record of our guilt unrolled, And smiling, say’st, “‘Tis done!
“This record I will bear To the dim chambers of eternity— The chain and charter I have lived to see Purged by the cannon’s prayer;[Pg 27]
“Convulsion, carnage, war; The pomp and tinsel of unrighteous power; Bloated oppression in its awful hour,— I, dying, dare abhor!”
One word, receding year, Ere thou grow tremulous with shadowy night! Say, will the young year dawn with wisdom’s light To brighten o’er thy bier?
Or we the past forget, And heal her wounds too tenderly to last? Or let today grow difficult and vast With traitors unvoiced yet?
Though thou must leave the tear,— Hearts bleeding ere they break in silence yet, Wrong jubilant and right with bright eye wet,— Thou fast expiring year,
Thy work is done, and well: Thou hast borne burdens, and may take thy rest, Pillow thy head on time’s untired breast. Illustrious year, farewell!

Lynn, Mass., January 1, 1866.

Christian Science, Uncategorized

Poems by EDDY, Mary Baker — Sound Books

In May, 1910, Mrs. Eddy requested her publisher to prepare a few bound volumes of her poems, for private distribution. When this became known to her friends, they urged her to allow a popular edition to be issued, to which she assented. With grateful acknowledgment, therefore, of this permission, this little volume is presented to […]

via Poems by EDDY, Mary Baker — Sound Books

Poems, Uncategorized

A Poem for Paisley

If all the threads that Paisley made were found again one day.

I’d hang them in the sky with Love to take away the grey.

Upon the gold I’d write a tale of stories from our past.

About the folk we”ve lost in time that’s moved away so fast.

Upon the red I’d see the war and all the men who died.

I’d write the names of all their wives whose tears we left behind.

Upon the Abbey darkened threads of blackened thoughts and crimes.

Of a bygone age of killing men for moral crimes.

Threads of blue I’d give to schools, to teach them peace and Love.

By leaving parts of history, while rainbows hang above.

Upon the green, the Irish woe, migration, war and fear

While London pushes migrants out with hatred causing tears.

Upon the white I’d ask buskers to write their stories clear.

To fill the sky with hope and dreams of music for our ears.

Upon this richest tapestry I’d paint a cross and crown,

To show the world the triumphs of dear Paisley, my sweet town.