Tag Archives: poetry

We Three Kings A-Cantering Are

We Three Kings A-Cantering Are

Recently, I heard a rendition of the Christmas Carol ‘We Three Kings’.  The pianist played in such a way that captured the pace of camels feet bearing their cargo. Initially startling, it was surprisingly refreshing and kept returning over the day.

Tink, tink,

Tink, tink,

Clip, clop,

Clip, clop,

We three kings a-cantering are,

Our camels are off,

So watch us, ah,

Hill and valley,

No dilly-dally

Cantering to a star

Ohhhh…

 

 That piano

In its metronomic affect

Turns us inwardly

Inside out

And up and

D

O

W

N

To the pace of camels

A-cantering, a-cantering.

Ah, the energy and verve

Striking every nerve

Ending to its beginnings

It has us all singing.

Never ever before

Has this tune taken the floor

In a such a way

Oh, to stay and sway

On the dromedary delight

We may take to flight

At the sound of the piano.

But we go

Yet find a memory still aglow

Of the flight of the camels

By day and night.

 

 

Simon C.J. Falk 7 January 2019

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Holidays for Some and Others Still It’s Christmas

This moment of the year most people take some time to pause. For some of us this is Christmas time. I have not been able to come up with a Christmas story or poem but offer, in this post, a compilation of previous years below:

Gold Grains, Golden Light

Caved Inn of Light

I Dreamed that Santa Saved the Day

The Shepherd’s Daughter

The Little Angel

The Gnome from Santa’s Home

It’ll Cut for Hay

The Kelpie Dog at Christmas

A Christmas Crib at Aleppo

 

 

Rejected – An Acrostic

Rejected – An Acrostic

 

Rejected by a love

           Ejected then in pain

   Jarring to the brain

Ending of a love

           Can it have been real?

   Try as they may feel

Empty now of care

           Does living look like despair?

 

Simon C.J. Falk 15 December 2018

Do They Know Whom They Reject?

Do They Know Whom They Reject?

Do they know?

When they go

What they reject.

That when they go

They                                      inject

And they infect

A pain

B

 E

  L

   O

    w

A wound to grow

That what we sow

We’ll reap, you know!

Within, to show.

Do they know?

Our hurts, our woe

That we wish to see

How we can free

A person’s pain

That they may gain

Some liberty.

 

Simon C.J. Falk 15 December 2018

We Walk Past Now The Room Where The Poems Are

We Walk Past Now The Room Where the Poems Are

We walk past now

Scurrying away down the corridors

Of bustling business and

Busyness and superficial fluff.

Its door is closed now

And we know not where

The key has gone in the dark

The dank direction near its entry to

The room where the poems are

Forgotten history and

Nostalgic museums of

Creativity past

Up

Past

D

O

W

N

And past over, but

Past.

No longer accessible

They sit in the dark.

Yet even a seed

Hides in dark soil.

Simon C.J. Falk 4 December 2018

Behind the #Poet Chosen for Invictus Games 2018

Those in Australia, and other participating nations, would be aware that Sydney just hosted the Invictus Games 2018.   The Games website reveals that there is a story behind the Games:

The word ‘Invictus’ is Latin for ‘unconquered’ and embodies the fighting spirit of our wounded, injured and ill servicemen and women. They have been tested and challenged, but they have not been overcome. They have proven that by embracing each other and the support of family and friends, they can reclaim their future. They are Invictus.

Most of us will never know the horrors of combat. Horrors so great that many servicemen and women suffer life-changing injuries, both visible and invisible, while serving their countries, while serving us. How do these men and women find the motivation to move on and not be defined by their injuries? How can we challenge perceptions and send a positive message about life beyond disability to an international audience?

More of the story can be read on this link.

But, I wish to look at one of the, shall we say, back stories behind the poem ‘Invictus’ chosen as the poem for the Games.  The poem is by William Ernest Henley and the Invictus Games website tells us that Henley…

was himself an amputee and the poem reflects his long battle with illness. The title means “unconquered” and the 16 short lines of the poem encapsulate the indefatigable human spirit, which is at the heart of the Invictus Games.

For more about Henley see The Poetry Foundation biographical notes.  An excerpt of his poem, ‘Invictus’ is below:

Invictus 

Out of the night that covers me, 
      Black as the pit from pole to pole, 
I thank whatever gods may be 
      For my unconquerable soul. 
In the fell clutch of circumstance 
      I have not winced nor cried aloud. 
Under the bludgeonings of chance 
      My head is bloody, but unbowed. 

The full text can be found here.

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Beauty is Found- Lines on the Camino

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Beauty is found in airline seats

Where a little family greets us

On their way to London Town.

Their mother’s eyes aglow with the beauty

One may know is her love for her little ones.

Beauty is found in an accent recognised

In a bustling bus queue

As a lovely Darwin female says

“Join me here.”

Beauty is found in the methodical air of

A stewardess following the line

Of passengers to check that all

Are there to enter the deck aboard.

Her beauty is seen in her assiduousness 

To not leave out a single one.

One other scene of beauty is enjoyed

By staff employed in a restaurant 

As the first diners arrive.

All care descends as they strive

To share and explain all there is to name

On menu and wine list.

It wasn’t to be missed

But miss them we did after retiring from their care.

 

Simon C.J. Falk 28 September 2018

He Entered My Decapolis

 

He Entered My Decapolis

A ‘hearing’ of Mark 7:31-37

He entered my Decapolis

My region of haunts

All populated with complexity

On opening

My ears

Oh! My ears

Resounded

And, my heart pounded

As I was loosened

I was not the same

And words came

Flowing and flowing

Until growing

Into written reflections.

I heard

And found voice

A moment to rejoice

And bask

In freedom.

 

Simon C.J. Falk September 2018