Category: Poetry

A Thousand Goodbyes

May 21, 2016

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Before you’d gone there were a thousand goodbyes
Each it’s own colour, shape and size.
Most before the old worn chair,
In both clear loud voice and silent prayer.

Before you’d gone there were a hundred goodbyes
When I’d look into your kind blind eyes
And thank you for my parentage
And a Christian blue collar heritage.

Before you’d gone there were a few goodbyes
When the dark angel thought it yet unwise
To get too close to that walking cane,
Knowing with your firm grip it promised pain.

So as you go, here’s one thousand and one:
Let heaven welcome this stout Welsh son!
At one hand your Jesus, at the other your wife,
With straight back and bright eyes, run to new life!

I love you, Grandpa. See you soon, but not yet.

Healing Trees

May 15, 2016

There is a safe space provided by friends and family who understand the pain and heartache of life in general, and the Way of the Cross in particular. I wrote this poem in thanks to God, for the benevolence showered on me by their presence in my life.

If you have ever allowed me to share in your angst, this is for you. I love you. Thank you for your vulnerability. When you need it, may you find peace and rest under the Healing Trees.

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For those of you on mobile devices who find the picture too small, here is the text:

Healing Trees
by Bill Scarrott

Heaven has hills where trees do grow
When desperate prayers are sown below.
Alas we rarely tarry there
In forests angels long to know.

There the Gardener takes a knee,
And one by one tends each small plea
With hands that still bear sacred scars,
Bringing to life a Healing Tree.

Covered there from the storms you fear,
Sheltered ‘neath leaves of answered prayer,
A sapling from your own pain grows
Near streams that flow with grace to spare.

Someday others will rest and hide
Under great branches tall and wide
Where the Gard’ner watered a seed
Shaped like that lonely tear you cried.

Holy Emmanuel

April 17, 2016

Holy holy holy God we sing;
It means He’s separate, set apart. Everything
We know of him says he’s over there
High and lifted up. We’re down here
We abase ourselves.He’s not like us:
He’s righteous, we’re shadow; he’s forever, we’re dust.

And sometimes we feel in his holiness
Being set apart we believe he’ll miss
The fact that we need him here.
We wonder does the holy care?

Surrounded by angel armies there
Where there’s no darkness, and the air
Is filled with voices that sing unending
Praise to this ancient King,
Does He see us- that we’ve lost everything?

There are prophets that answered all these questions
When they wrote of the Holy pierced for our transgressions-
And foretold God come to earth as man.
We still ask whether the Holy can
Take in our pain and eat our sin,
Can the Holy taste death, would He rise again?

He did, and we call him Emmanuel!
Jesus stood between us and hell;
A king with a crown of thorns, God with a battered face-
That is holy love. This is holy grace:
To have Holy arms around us, nailed in place!
Three days later death lost its sting,
This is why Holy holy God we sing!

An Ending

February 21, 2016

“The end is near”, old prophets say,
“When angels weep and devils play;
Playground swings go still and rust;
Virgin brides refuse to trust;
Noble men begin to stray;
Our wells run dry and colours grey.”

So it is when we in sin
And pride refuse to let God in,
But build ourselves a monument-
Cosmic Anarchist Government.
We dance to the Devil’s mandolin,
And the mortal clock begins to spin.

“The end is near”, old prophets say,
“When we bow to a better way.
Justice and mercy wed and blend
When God becomes the sinner’s friend.
All we were not has been erased;
Dead bones can live with flesh replaced.”

The end is near for the downward chase:
An end to fear, a dawn of grace;
And end to hopelessness and rage,
A dawn of peace, and love’s rampage;
An end to children’s tears at night
The dawn of every blind man’s sight.

“What end choose you?” the prophets ask,
“The face of life or sin’s death mask?
Before you lie roads dark and light;
One sacrifice, one appetite.
One fist clenched in right and wrong,
One open hand and freedom song…”

A Beginning

February 7, 2016

Seek you the door to distant lands?
The portal God cast with human hands?
Come then, Seeker; with key of mind
Leave ignorance and pride behind.
May these pages lead to shores of grace;
The holy found in each small space
Left between crippled words I pen.
Let them rest upon your tongue and then
Test whether what you find is true
To ancient ways walked by those who
Saw death die in the immortal one:
The God-man. Jesus. David’s Son.

Empty Places

January 31, 2016

There is a place we do not speak
Of when we’re lost and weary, weak
But angels meet us sometimes there
To walk us back from the cold bleak.

There is a cool and rain soaked shore
Where some of us have been before
And found a tender Father there
Where tides of love bring rest from war.

There is a deep and quiet lake-
Faith born in highlands of heartache-
Fed by springs of the Spirit where
the thirsty drink and sleeping wake.

There is for each of us a tomb
With very little breathing room.
We feel alone though Christ is there
To show us death is glory’s womb.

“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. If anyone serves me, he must follow me; and where I am, there will my servant be also. If anyone serves me, the Father will honor him.” – Jesus of Nazareth
John 12: 24-26 (ESV)

 

The Journey

November 29, 2015

Normally I wouldn’t post something that hasn’t been tweaked and polished. My last spoken word poem, “The Invitation“, has been fairly well received though, so I wanted to give you a sneak peak at my next project. It is called “The Journey”. It is based on my original poem “Weary Heart, Holy Ground“, but I wanted to take us deeper into the life of Jesus, and explore what it means to have communion with him in his life and death. When it’s finished it should be twice as long at what’s  already here.

I hope it encourages you!

-~-

The Journey

Who are you when you’re in the dark?
When heaven in silent and just a spark
Or whisper is all you’d need to want to take
Another breathe, but you’re a crystal about to break?

Go on down to the silent place,
You who dare to seek God’s face.
For it may be you’ll find down there
An answer for that load you bear.

Stop not at the convenient spot
You’ve been before, for God is not
A landmark on a religious map,
Or a brew poured from some preacher’s tap.

Continue on with your open sores
To solitary haunted shores
Where human voices utter not
One breath of what a true God aught
To do or say or even be,
Except that He once died for thee.

Sit awhile in the cold dark tomb-
That barren place that became the womb
Of every hope we ever had,
And the death of all that makes men mad,
For that is where our God is found.
Your weary heart is holy ground.

Three days will pass or maybe more
‘Til angels move the great stone door
Locked tight against the morning sun.
But that first crack of light will stun
Lies hell has placed within your mind.
Walk out free and leave behind
The shame, the fear; let them rest
And walk out into Easters best.
Take whatever is left of you
Discard the lie, embrace the true.

Meet in the garden of your soul
A man who makes the broken whole.
You may not recognize at first
The one we crucified and cursed,
But hope will rise like an ancient flame
The first time that he calls your name.