In My Hand – #WATWB

It seemed fitting to include a copy actually written in my hand.

In My Hand


In My Hand


In my hand,

I have a choice.

By my hand,

I can express a voice.

With my hand,

I might strike out in hate.

I can hold back my hand,

And sit to wait.

With fisted hand,

I can pound a blow.

With an open palm,

Myself I show.

With tumbling fingers,

I might tap a rant or rave.

With a lighter touch,

Some grief I may save.

As friend or foe,

I decide to take a stand.

To offer peace,

And stretch out my hand.


Simon C.J. Falk 25 March 2017



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A Christmas Crib at Aleppo – posting for #peace

A Christmas Crib at Aleppo

As we gather in our places of peace, we are mindful of the people of Ankara, of Berlin, of Aleppo. Peace, Shalom, Salaam.

A Christmas Crib at Aleppo


As Advent passed through Aleppo,

It was hard to see,

People living in any peace,

Or children roaming free.

The buses sent to save them,

Were lying as charred remains,

Who could come and deliver?

Them from many months of pains.

Buildings strewn as ruins,

Gardens left in a mess,

The poor and hungry dwell in squalor,

Awaiting a redress.

The children of Aleppo,

Have no toy shops to see,

They have no electronic gadgets,

For their internet’s not free.

And they have no fairy Christmas lights,

Shining on a Christmas tree.

Their families struggle for Church or Mosque,

To go and pray in peace,

From the constant sieging,

It appears there’s no release.

But what if something happened,

To enkindle a little hope?

Might it make a trifle of difference?

And help some families cope.

What if among the rubble,

Of their old, majestic city,

There might be respite from the trouble,

Some reverie a touch more pretty?

What if a Dad and Mother,

With their little family in tow,

Looked amidst the shattered buildings,

For a place to go?

What if there were a spot,

Away from lines of fire,

Where the family could be

In a place of restful retire?

What if in that place,

The mother then with child,

Could have her baby with her husband?

What if other children came and filed

In upon the scene

Of that modern nativity?

That among the broken buildings,

And the shattered lives,

There might be a little light,

To glow for husbands and wives.

And that the children dwelling near,

Who had no presents to receive,

Might behold a very precious gift,

And then may come to believe,

That among the cruel fighting,

And from their ruptured dreams,

The little, battered pieces,

Had edges made for seams,

To make a new mosaic,

And to build further dreams.

Visions within the struggle and the squalor,

That a child for us was born,

To keep holding life before us,

That on all true peace may dawn.



Simon C.J. Falk 19 December 2016

#Movember2016 & Other Bristling Words

#Movember2016 & Other Bristling Words


Bristles, whiskers, stubble,

Forming on the chin;

Tracing lines on upper lip,

Framing round a grin.

Movember makes a comeback,

Raising hair on many a face;

We do our bit for mental health,

To make the world a better place.


Simon C.J. Falk     1 Movember November 2016

God Came to Tea – Guest Post #postingforpeace

This is a guest post that comes from the World Community for Christian Meditation .  All rights to this poem belong to

John J. Keohane

God Came to Tea Today


Invocation- calm

This is also a great one from Shawn for the #postingforpeace tag.

Shawn L. Bird

In times of fear and panic,

Let us be a force of calm.

Let those who are trembling,

find us safe to lean upon.

May we be the voice of reason.

May we comfort the oppressed.

May we show our compassion

to those who’re most distressed.



Free for use in Rotary Clubs.  Please credit Shawn Bird of Shuswap Rotary (5060 BC Canada) when you use it, and leave a note in the comments below so folks know where it’s been used.  Thanks.

View original post

#postingforpeace A Glimmer of Glory

A Glimmer of Glory

A response to a powerful post on DamyantiWrites .


A Glimmer of Glory

entered in

as I looked

at my inbox


What within my eyes

did I spy?

A sensitive soul

with a plaintive cry.

Someone had been hurt

by hateful din.

Why must we let

the hateful and violent win?

Why battle at all

between them and us?

For there is always a fall

And someone to crush.

A call from the pain

was sent on to read

Will we enter our peace

And to the caller heed?

Need we add to the gall

and the hate?

We can add goodness and kindness

then spate

of peace will flow from our pages

to pass on to elders

and to younger ages.

That battle will cease

and bile will abate

And we will find peace

and release of the hate.

We may not change kingdoms

States-folk or leaders

But we can influence friends

In our social media feeders.

The pathway to our peace

Begins between you and me

little by little

we can become free.


Simon C. J. Falk 4 August 2016



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