Tag Archives: Poetry

Colours of Love

Colours of Love
© by John Jenkins

The day was getting ready to settle down for the night, and the night moved over to make room for him.

Day said, “Would you like a cuddle?”

“You know I always like a cuddle”, Night replied. “That’s my speciality!”

So cuddle they did.

Day caressed Night from head to toe, making her glow with a firey orange hue. Thanking her lucky stars for such a lover, Night responded by opening her dusky portals.

Day sank down into Night’s warm embrace, sending shafts of crimson fire deep into her thighs, lighting her skies with shimmering sheets of coloured magic.

The day shift over Night went to work, paving the way for lovers to play, and painting the town red.

While Day slept Night kept her watchful eye on forrest and city, owl and cat, postal train and criminal gang.

Reluctantly Day awoke as Night climbed back into bed. “Wakey wakey, sleepy head!” she said.

Mounting him she stirred his ardour. Grasping him between her thighs, she caused him to rise. Birds sang loudly in response to their cries.

Once again the power of their passion set the heavens ablaze, illuminating elysian with the colours of love.

Written by a member of the congregation of All Hallows.


Poem: Home

© John Jenkins

Home is where the heart is…
But what if your heart’s not at home?
What if your heart’s a long way away
And makes you want to rome?

What if you’re feeling down at heel
And simply want to cry? What if your mind goes round and round
Asking the question, “Why?”

Your home maybe a place of peace,
It may be a place of war,
It may be a place you long to be
On a lovely foreign shore.

“Home is where I hang my hat,”
The restless wanderer said.
They found him lying on the beach.
Asleep? Oh no, he’s dead.

For some a home’s a luxury;
The child put out for care;
The vagabond who’s never clean;
The murderer in his lair.

For some their home’s a cardboard box
Flimsy and cold without pity;
For some it’s bric-a-brac and tat
In flood drains under a city.

For most of us it’s a fortress,
A place where we feel safe,
A place where we can rest, relax;
Not so the homeless waif.

For him life’s just a piece of shite,
A battle every day,
He may survive, or he may not,
Who gives a dam anyway?

God gives a dam, I’m sure of that,
His home’s not far away,
And angels sweep his mansion clean,
Where he will rest, one day.

But what about the comfy ones,
Who live life without care
For those who know no rest down here;
Have they a home up there?

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

And they will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’

“He will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did (or did not do) for one of the least of these, you did (or did not do) not do for me.’

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Written by a member of the congregation of All Hallows.

Poem: Comfortable

© John Jenkins

“Please help me Sir”, the lady said
“I’ve got nowhere to sleep.
It’s cold outside and if I die
There’s nowt who’ll know or weep.
My bones are getting aweful sore,
It’s hard there, on the street.”

I said to her, “I’m comfortable.
Don’t rock my little boat.
I’ve got enough of what I need,
And occasionally I vote
To elect a party that props me up.
So don’t try cross my moat.”

She walked away, and I could see
That pain was in her eyes.
Her shabby clothes and unkempt hair
Could not disguise the lies
I knew she spoke, when she said, “I’m OK”
Each time I bought her fries.

I moved along, my day of work
Consumed my every thought,
And by the time I passed that place
I felt slightly distraught
When I didn’t see her flowery dress,
So I ate the chips I’d bought.

I stopped and pondered on the bridge,
Then leaned over the ledge.
The water billowed the flowery dress,
Her bags lay by a hedge.
The chips I’d bought felt poisonous
And set my teeth on edge.

The world’s OK, for folks like me,
And maybe folks like you.
As long as we don’t think too much
We’re bound to make it through,
And heaven’s gates will open wide
For her…. and me? and you?

Written by a member of the congregation of All Hallows.

Other Roads

Other Roads

God takes us out
Of comfortable places
And easy situations
He takes away the ease
That we may know the unease
We have to go on different roads
Paths we don’t want to go
But if we don’t go
How will we gain knowledge?
It is hard in the wilderness
Of the unknown
I am in the wilderness
And you know me
We’ll walk together
Take each step at a time
Day by day
Till we reach that comfortable
Place again

Written by a member of the congregation of All Hallows