Jonathan’s Poems

Jesus’ Beckon

Part 1 – Death Friday

Hounded, helpless, horror uphill,
Mocking jeers crescendo,
Death’s stench, dark in despairing dread,
Oppressing fear’s echo.

Piercing soulful eyes fixated,
Excruciating pain,
Hope hanging, subsiding, drowning,
Dignity dies, my shame.

Part 2 – Life Sunday

Night’s black breaking: light’s dawn dancing,
Hurry quickening feet,
Heady spices; heavy grieving,
Overwhelmed – crumpled heap.

Erupting anguish obscuring
Gardener’s playful delight,
Agony’s deep yearning, aching,
Recognition ignites!

Exploding joyful elation,
Spirit’s music exclaims,
Touching, soaring – soul suspended,
Jesus beckons my name!

© Jonathan Bryan

A Psalm of Thanksgiving for Eleven Years

Rejoicing in God’s lavished love,

Celebrating His glorious goodness for the last eleven years,

You have cradled me in the crook of your arms,

Comforting me in the unreachable blackest night,

For some, darkness would have opened the door to despair,

But, your hope-fuelled love gives me freedom to dance life’s joy,

Your serene peace massages my soul,

As I await your call home forever.

Rejoice in God’s goodness evermore – Amen!

© Jonathan Bryan

God’s Grace

Laughter of reunion voices,
Fading through the night breeze,
Secluded in obscurity,
Cry of life – born for me.

Exhilarated exhaustion,
Carved on Mary’s face,
Faintly inklings of foreboding,
Echoing loving grace.

Vulnerable humility,
Divine, dependent boy.
Thousand years of prophetic light,
Lavished blessing – our joy.

Running feet, gruff country voices,
Shepherds shyly shuffle,
Angelic announcement sharing,
Lost in awe, most humble.

Shafts of moonlight illuminate,
The sound of peace descends,
Embodied freedom sleeping now,
God’s love surrounds, transcends.

© Jonathan Bryan

Going Home

Go my soul and go my eyes,
Onwards, onwards through fateful times,
Lift me, lift me home.
I must travel on.
Travel on.

Beckoning, calling, summoning, coaxing,
Drawing me homewards.
Homewards.
Travelling time on the wings of hope.
Fly my soul. Fly.

Anticipate home, yearn only for home,
Traversing on, voyaging on, journeying on.
Soar my soul, soar,
Steady my eyes. Steer steady.

Alone with Him in my heart,
Over the youngest years, through the sleeplessness,
She, my soul-mate joins me.
Together, our souls glide on.
Glide on.

Eyes sickening, body weakening, lungs dying,
Be strong my soul.
Be strong.
Falling, failing, fading…

Eyes glimpsing home.
Safe, warm, free, secure,
Soul’s rest.
Eyes discerning, eyes burning,
Dragged back, hauled back.
Next time.

Silence.
Soul’s suffocating silence.
Eyes searching onwards, upwards,
Trapped.
Until, until…

…I look out and see,
Eyes discerning, fingers pointing, letters spelling,
Break free my soul,
Break free.

Onwards, eyes dancing soul’s beat,
Dance on my eyes.
Beat on my soul.
Home is calling, beckoning,
Soul’s yearning home.

©Jonathan Bryan

 

The Author of Life

Beauty breathing through my soul,

Cradling arms tending my frail frame,

Sheltering rock whilst life’s storms rage,

Dancing with quaver beats of joy,

Anticipating Love’s beckon,

Home in the garden forever.

© Jonathan Bryan

Rumplestiltskin

The tale of Rumplestiltskin tells,

Of how men use their little gels,

To harness some financial gain,

And rid themselves of the dire pain,

Of finding a suitable man,

To wed their daughters. Here’s the plan:

The miller lies, the miller cheats,

“My daughter spins pure gold in sheaths,”

The king heard this as he rode by,

“I need this woman to be my

Treasurer, spin gold, fill my bank,

If she does this, the highest rank,

Of queen, my wife will all be hers

But if he lies she will incur,

My wrath poured out on severed head.”

Thus our heroine full of dread,

Waved goodbye to evil father,

For certain death ever after.

Locked in a room with spinning wheel,

And enough straw for a cow’s meal,

She dissolved into distraught tears,

When suddenly an imp appears,

“My dear,” he said with such aplomb,

(Brought up properly at Eton),

“Dry your eyes on my handkerchief,

What I perform is past belief,”

She sat snivelling in the corner,

Reader, how shall we forewarn her?

For whilst he spun the straw to gold,

His real intention was foretold,

By the smooth leer upon his lips,

Calamitous relationships,

Followed him where’er he travelled,

As quickly his charm unravelled.

Delighted with the pure gold pile,

She gave her necklace with a smile.

The king with pound signs in his eyes,

Places more straw to her surprise,

This time she calls out for her friend,

Who saves her from her sticky end.

With love bursting within her heart,

Her precious ring she did impart,

As a sign of her intention,

He accepts for his deception.

The king is greedy through and through,

And demands one last revenue,

The imp returns, she’s aflutter,

What he demands makes her shudder,

Her first born son is all he wants,

Despite her imploring response.

So now she’s married to the king,

Proud mother to her first offspring,

Imagine her immense surprise,

When imp returns to claim his prize.

You all know the story from here,

Three days for his name to appear,

She gets it on the final night,

His anger drove him from her sight.

What dear reader is never told –

How this encounter made her bold

To leave the king and start afresh,

Caring for children in a crèche,

Where she tells her favourite story –

She triumphed over men in glory!

 

© Jonathan Bryan

Baking Beauty

Filling, beating, stirring, pouring,

Baking beauty life restoring,

Dripping goodness love in sharing,

Aromatic health repairing,

Pleasant parcels held with pleasure,

Tantalising tastes to treasure.

© Jonathan Bryan

Residential Poem

Activities adapted,
Inclusion at their heart,
Tidal waves of belief,
Esteem growing with my part.

Escaped on bikes; elated,
Hair ruffled in the breeze,
Views absorbed; time stands still,
Free-wheeling downhill with ease.

Friends clapping cheering chanting,
I’m rising to the sky,
Pulling me to freedom,
My ovation soaring high.

Dogged determination,
Proud member of Rhine class,
Great team forged with laughter,
Fantastic friendships last!

© Jonathan Bryan

Holidays

H appiness emerging excitement growing,

O ceans of dancing waves lovingly flowing,

L aughter like singing birds heard in the morning,

I rresistable ice-cream noon-time yawning,

D addy filling our heads with figures and facts,

A way we’re escaping down unexplored tracks,

Y early adventures treasured deep in our hearts,

S adness its over til the next one starts.

© Jonathan Bryan

Teach Us Too Tanka

Motionless caged birds
dank winter everlasting
stop! When will this end?
life giving spring erupting
calling flocks hovering high

© Jonathan Bryan

Song of Silence

Numbness making sensory dead!
Inhibiting freedom fearing change,
Sanity seeping sadly down,
Shutters closing, everyday night.

Ceasing hope holding shame aloft,
Kept like wounded trapped birds caged inside,
Why should silence drown their spirit?
Who can free their souls aching sorrow?

© Jonathan Bryan

Song of Voice

As adept fingers point
My silent soul emerges,
Like the dawn blackbird’s song
Suddenly breaking the black.

Music buried in the mind
Sings melodies divine,
Of ancient tales yet untold
Unfurled to men astound.

Whose beauty hears my voice?
What depths saddened my pathway?
Soaring eagles spread wings
I fly to my destiny.

© Jonathan Bryan