My Poetry

song of voice imageJesus' beckon poem imagePMLD poem image

baking beauty poem image

the author of life poem imageGoing home poem imageGods gracea psalm of thanksgiving poem image

pentecost power poem image




We are not capable of learning
So do not tell me
There’s something going on behind the disability.
Treated as useless handicaps
Minds with nothing in there, tragically
Stuck in a wheelchair,
Disabilities visibly crippling –
Just incontinent and dribbling,
We are not
Academically able.
You should make our minds
Stagnate in special education!
We cannot
Learn to read,
Learn to spell,
Learn to write,
Instead let us
Be constrained by a sensory curriculum.
It is not acceptable to say
We have the capacity to learn.
School should occupy us, entertain us; but never teach us
You are deluded to believe that
Our education can be looked at another way!


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

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


Pentecost Power

Expectant anticipation hanging in the air,
Atmosphere soaked in vigilant prayer,
Waiting together, like the moment before rain,
Hiding upstairs, in suspense we remain…

Thunder clap of wind, heaven’s trapdoor released,
Exhilarating gust, God’s power increased,
Engulfing, uplifting, saturating strength,
Surging within, infusing inner depth.

Burning bush splitting fire, tongues of flame,
I AM will be with you. In you. His wonders proclaim,
Equipping, transforming, Isaiah’s live coal,
Here am I: send me, responds my soul.


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.
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.

Soul’s suffocating silence.
Eyes searching onwards, upwards,
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


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


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

Isolating Walk

Like a faulty tap we splutter from the door,
Flailing limbs, squeezing, hopping, stamping,
“Wait for me!” Shambolic convergence,
Wheelchair propelled uphill, the nucleus
Of heavy heads full of:
Virus, news, statistics, death.

Pausing to marvel at lambs gambolling,
Frolicking, blissfully unaware in creation’s
Continuing, unremitting, unabating

Travelling the road, sisters rambling on,
Wellies stomping the tarmac river,
Questions flowing in unending curiosity:
What flower is this?
But how is the virus spreading?
Why is a buttercup different to celandine?
Will Jon-Jon be ok?

© Jonathan Bryan

Reconnecting Walk (A Terza Rima Sonnet)

As guests upon the path we lightly tread,
Stooping under boughs of sentinel oak,
Bluebell’s rippling lake before us spread.

Empty; we immerse and plunge in to soak
Our wearied encumbered souls breathe deep,
At senses banquet, rejuvenate hope.

Silencing internal noise, outward speech,
Retuning to birdsongs insistent call,
Faint hearts are slowed as the Creator seeps

His natural balm our bodies enthral,
The soft peace of His whisper transcends,
Harmonised by insect’s tiny waltz,

Hearing, “Everything shall be well with all,”
As guests upon the path we lightly tread.

© Jonathan Bryan

My Transplant

Kidney Kidney, turning ten,
In the bodies of young men;
What ultimate gift from grief,
Could dying restore hope’s belief?

What memories are secured
Within your double lives endured?
What joys? What sorrows? And what pains?
As you beat life’s path – again.

Kidney Kidney, turning ten,
In the bodies of young men;
What ultimate gift from grief,
In dying restored hope’s belief?

© Jonathan Bryan