~7th Place Editor’s Choice Award

‘Ticket to Life’ won ’7th place ‘Editor’s Choice Award’ and ‘Highly Commended’ in the ‘Masters Level’  in a ‘FaithWriters’ writing competition. USA, 2012.

To see the poem at ‘FaithWriters’ and to read all the lovely and sometimes not so lovely comments it has received click here.

Ticket to Life

We were young men and women
who were taking the world by storm.
One prostitute, one heroin addict
one boy prostitute, one transvestite
at a time, for the kingdom.

We strolled Sydney’s
seedier, darker streets
making friends
and handing out
sugar,
coffee with sugar,
sugar,
doughnuts with sugar,
did I mention sugar?
(Addicts love sugar).

One perilous evening
we stumbled upon
a young prostitute
who wanted a better life
she repented of her sins
and surrendered her life to Christ.

We were unable
to find a new home
for her that night
and agreed to return
a few days later
to pick up her things
from her brothel
and take her away
to safer, healthier places.

Return we did.
We could not find her,
searched and searched,
then spied her
across William Street’s
six wide lanes.

My pastor promptly
in his eagerness to help
performed a u-turn.
Immediately we were being pursued
by blue flashing lights.

The officer said,
“ Your u-turn was illegal,
I am going to have to give you
a ticket”.
Watching our young
sex-worker disappear
into the night,
my pastor replied,
“But officer you don’t understand,
I’m a pastor
looking for
a prostitute”.

This is one of many true stories that one gathers serving God in a red-light district. This young woman was rescued from her life on the streets and after much explaining, no ticket was given.

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Thank you so much for reading ‘out for lunch’. If you would like to contribute, please do. Thanks Kel.

~6th Place Editor’s Choice Award

‘Little Kristina’ won ’6th place ‘Editor’s Choice Award’ and ‘Highly Commended’ in the ‘Masters Level’  in a ‘FaithWriters’ writing competition. USA 2011/12.

To see the poem at ‘FaithWriters’ and to read all the lovely comments it has received click here.

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Little Kristina

My broken heart
skips a beat
as I round
the corner
to be greeted
by your
widespread arms
and little legs
running so hard
rushing to wrap
me in the
innocence
of your
loneliness.

I want to smother you
with a father’s love
and lavish you
with words
tell you
how
cute you look
and special you are
to whisper
sacred little things
like
‘I love you’.

Alas, I am but
a foreigner
a volunteer
a
protector of orphans
who will
one day
return to
the familiar
embrace
of his loving
kin.

I won’t be there
when the darkness
of the night
drowns your tears
I won’t be there
to calm your fear
and hold your hand
on your first
day
of school
your first boyfriend
will never
grace my
doorstep
and I will
not be
giving
you away
on your wedding
day.

I cannot
be there
for you
cannot
take
you
home
so when
you look in
my eyes
and melt
my hurting
heart
please feel
what is left
unsaid
I cannot
be there
for
you.

But someone
else can,
he will hold
you and
not let go
he will lavish you
love you
he is your adopter
and salvation
little Kristina
spread your
arms wide
and
welcome
Him
He is
your
Father.

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Thank you so much for reading ‘out for lunch’. If you would like to contribute, please do. Thanks Kel.

Th’ Cheap Chieftain won second place in the Robbie Burns Poetry Competition. New Zealand, 2012

————

Th’ Cheap Chieftain

It’s bin a while since mah hurdies
graced an’ greased Glesga’s dour streets
th’ rain an’ th’ rain an’ th’ rain
dog shite shod an’ trod
Jimmy addicted, duckin’ an’ divin’
wee hens shriekin’ an’ hurlin’ abuse.

When th’ rain’s tay wet an’ th’ hurlin’s tay heavy
an’ th’ Tron hangs lik’ a noose aroon yer neck
duck an’ dive yer way intae Val D’Oro
plonk th’ erse on solid Formica
order yersel’ a haggis supper
and thus sae let the Lord be thankit.

Sae ah did an’ aw
but th’ bard woods greit
auld Scotlund has skinking ware
white chipped plate
cheps an’ mingin’ stomach
minced liver, heart an’ lungs
oats an’ oats an’ oats
swimmin’ suffocatin’
in a cess ay vinegar an’ suet.

Th’ ware swirls aroond mah plate
always runnin’ but ne’er leavin’
this manky mess
slithers doon mah beard
clogs mah hanky an’ clots mah arteries
an’ suin leaves mah weel-swall’d kyte
stretched an’ bent like a drum.

But aye will be a week afore ah eat again
an’ noo aam naturally waterproof
I can brave Glesga’s duckers an’ divers
the wee hens an’ th’ rain an’ th’ rain an’ th’ rain
fur ah hae experienced an’ ah hae survived
th’ cheap chieftain o’ the puddin-race!

Written in Glaswegian except when referencing ‘The Selkirk Grace’ and ‘Address To a Haggis’. Inspired by ‘Val D’Oro’, my favourite fish ‘n’ chip restaurant.

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Thank you so much for reading ‘out for lunch’. If you would like to contribute, please do. Thanks Kel.

I am His has appeared in ‘JournEzine‘, is posted at ‘Faithwriters‘ , was published in ‘Ta!‘ and first released in ‘Ačiū‘.

—————————

I am His

I am His and He is mine,
Together we will dine.
The beauty of His robe, the radiance of His eyes,
And the proclamation on His thighs.
I am His favourite, His desire, His lover, His beauty, His bride,
He beckons me to come, He calls me to His side.

I am His favourite and He is mine,
And together we will dine.

For I am His bride, beautiful, spotless,
Pure, radiant, without blemish.
I am His desire, I am His, for me He yearns,
The groom, my lover, His passion, His heart, for me it burns.
When He fixes His eyes on me all else fades away,
Jealously, with hunger my lover wants for our wedding day.

The Spirit and the groom unite and ask me to come,
For I am His bride, His desire, His lover, I am undone.
For at the feast I will dance at His side,
In His strength, in His glory, I will be His bride.
In His heart, in His arms, in His embrace,
I will love, I will know, I will see Him face to face.
There I will be, there I will express, there I will worship, from
deep within His glance,
Hand in hand, hearts together, twirling eternal dance.
Undone, empty, unblemished and pure,
In His arms, his bride, loved and secure.

For I am His and He is mine,
And together we will dine.

For I am His, beautiful, unblemished, ripe, lovely, spotless,
pure, pleasing,
His favourite, His lover, His desire, His bride, His burning.

For I am His and He is mine,
And soon we will dine.
Emotions entwined,
Feeling divine.
For I love Him and He loves me,
And that is the way it is meant to be.
I love Him and I can’t let go, I love Him beyond dignity.
I love Him in His might, I love Him in His power, I love
Him in His serenity.

And He chose me above all the rest,
He chose me, I’m His best.
I am His favourite, I am His, He is mine,
And together we will dine.

Understand this, seek this,
I am His.

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Thank you so much for reading ‘out for lunch’. If you would like to contribute, please do. Thanks Kel.

~6th Place Editor’s Choice Award

‘One Notable Exception’ won 6th place ‘Editor’s Choice Award’ and ‘Highly Commended’ in the ‘Masters Level’  in a ‘FaithWriters’ writing competition. USA 2011/12.

To see the poem at ‘FaithWriters’ and to read all the lovely comments it has received click here.

——————————

D E L E T E

It was the invasion, personal
space defiled, the intrusion, the
dark clouds and the
darn right lack of respect
that just irked me.

‘Twas a day like any other
a morning drowsy
sleepy, stumble to
the computer.

The slow timeless groaning
of my hard drive, a punching of
the Thunderbird key and
welcome sight of familiar
names and emails.

I rubbed my eyes, drank
a non existent coffee
in effort to wake up
as I tried to comprehend
why was I selling myself
luxury Rolex watches?

I straightened in my chair
the fog in my head
was being slowly chased away
by warring stormclouds
found my way to my sent folder
to discover a thunderstorm
of waterproof watches
hocking themselves to my
precious, waking friends

Bleakness and panic permeated
my defences, time wasn’t
on my side, had I caught a virus or
had I been hacked?

I found myself once again
riding the tides of google
hoping for a wave to catch in,
to tell me how to
batten down the hatches
and rid myself of this disease.

I stumbled upon a ray of hope
a light in a dark place
that sent me scurrying
with my boots and parka
to my automated ‘out-of-office-reply’
and there the little beastie sat.

.bot.

Skulking in the dankness
of my computer’s underbelly
spitting out slimy emails
selling fake time-pieces
though my POP address.

I had been spied,
watched and hacked
my email host held hostage
abused as a slave
and all I needed to do that
wet long stormy day
was push delete.

D E L E T E.

———————–
Thank you so much for reading ‘out for lunch’. If you would like to contribute, please do. Thanks Kel.

~6th Place Editor’s Choice Award

‘One Notable Exception’ won ‘1st place‘ in the advanced level and ‘6th place‘ Editor’s Choice Award‘ in a ‘FaithWriters’ writing competition. USA 2011.

To see the poem at ‘FaithWriters’ and to read all the lovely comments it has received click here.

—————–

One Notable Exception

She’s beautiful of course
I wouldn’t have married her otherwise
but it is sad
’cause she’s a sufferer
suffers from TDD
technology disassociation disorder
I made that up, but
in short
she hates technology

There is one notable exception
she loves her ipod
syncs with itunes
and downloads
day after day
her meaty podcasts

Nine to Noon
Saturday Morning with Kim Hill
Politics
Woman’s hour
Americana

The downloading
it is a ritual
a morning tradition
she walks into our office
flicks her computer on
loads itunes
sorts through her podcasts
pushes the ‘get all’ button
and yells through the house
“I am just uploading my ipods”

A thousand times I explain
if it comes down from cyberspace
and lands in her computer
then it is a download
and
if it goes up from her notebook
into the
wonderful and wide web
then it is an upload

though she understands
the differences between
ipods and podcasts
uploading and downloading
the connection between
the understanding
and the speaking
has a twisted wire
thus nothing changes

however she’s my wife
she is beautiful
intelligent
and she daily
uploads her ipods

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Thank you so much for reading ‘out for lunch’. If you would like to contribute, please do. Thanks Kel.

Birth Song is published in ‘The Kiwi Diary 2012‘.

Cover photo is by Anna Stewart.

——–

Birth Song

When I cry, when I’m weary and when I’m teary
I thirst for my tears to flow with the river Taieri
upon my sigh, I want the breath that I breathe
to mingle with the beech forests of a Fiordland eve
and as I drive south down the coast of Moeraki
from the same windscreen, I hanker to see the mountains and the sea.

I need to reacquaint my present with my nationality
to allow Aotearoa to permeate my personality
squeezing between my toes I crave the sand of my birth
and running through my fingers I yearn to feel New Zealand’s earth
my accent hungers to be one of many
and my hair colour not significantly silly

I miss bold cloudy blue skies
and lazy evenings being fodder for sandflies
laid-back people, friends, family
and time that twists and ebbs oh so slowly.

My body longs to lament its birth song
and I yearn to be home where I belong.

———-

The Man at The Well won an Honourable Mention in the ‘JournEzine‘ Christmas Story Competition.

—————————

The Man at the Well

God in his compassion
lowered himself
to the heights
of humanity
and became one of us

Fully God
yet fully us
God with us
Immanuel

The winds of change
storming in the north
led a prophet
a lonely prophet
to utter an edict

A sign will come
a sign from God
a sign that will be God
a sign

A royal bairn will be birthed
from the belly of a virgin
the sign will have a name
that name will be Immanuel

And God came to us
God in his Glory
Jesus the son
humanity in her infancy

He came into the world
the world did not recognise him
he came for his own
yet his own did not recognise him

He was a tender shoot
in dry ground
like a reed
waiting to be broken
justice being
led to victory
God with us

An age passing
an epoch folding
as heaven
intersected earth
in the form of an infant

From the throne of his cradle
with the government
upon his shoulders
our prince of peace
changed everything

He ushered the coming kingdom
the not yet
into the now
the curtain ripped
the laws of old
fell
fell from the heights of old
and landed squarely
in the temple
the temple of our hearts

He made us holy
bore our suffering
separating our sin
like the sunrise from the sunset
and crowned us with
love and mercy

His pierced skin
delivered glorious healing
from an unjust punishment
that set us free
brought us peace
and bought us salvation
salvation
from an everlasting father
and mighty God

He trawled the depths of humanity
set captives free
and rose from his suffering
returned from the hearth of hell
to the hearth of intercession
the abode of angels
and the cathedra of his father

But the altar is smashed
in the now
between what was
and what will be
he is God with us
our wonderful counsellor

Fully human
fully understanding our humanness
honoured with a broken body
in our brokenness
yet complete
to bring our completeness
he is God with us

We are not abandoned
to our coming graves
with his proclamation
on his thighs
the lord of lords
on his cloud of glory
will ride the skies
and finally
every knee will bow
and every tongue
will worship
our king
of kings

The one who was and who is
the infant in the manger
the boy in the temple
the man at the well
and the glorious
prince hanging on a wretched cross

Jesus the Christ
God With Us
Immanuel

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Thank you so much for reading ‘out for lunch’. If you would like to contribute, please do. Thanks Kel.

Words

Mary’s mindful miracle maybe miss leading
Bethlehem’s bastard boy born beneath a star
stored and stacked in a stingy stinkin’ stable
but beautiful boy became big
and bashed backward backsliding bureauracy
the Christ cross-bearer crushed and crusted in crimson blood
suffered surrendered secured the senseless sin of this sinister world
pierced in the possibility of peace per person personifying personal piety
earnestly eagerly enthusiastically encouraging an encounter with eternity

Mary’s mindful miracle of mercy merely means
perfection passion peace pardon paradise

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Thank you so much for reading ‘out for lunch’. If you would like to contribute, please do. Thanks Kel.

———————–
Thank you so much for reading ‘out for lunch’. If you would like to contribute, please do. Thanks Kel.