Thursday, December 06, 2007

Not Prosaic

I feel that this poem owes a great deal to my greatest influence, the work of R.S.Thomas. No apologies - only gratitude.


And God said: sing me
a song. Talk of me only
in poetry, so that your mind
is not bound. Do not confine
me in your prose, for you will
lose me in the thicket
of your language. Rather
let your words ring with the
resonance of my love,
sounding deep in the hearts
of all who hear the visions
of their transparent ambiguity.

©C.M.M. 12/07

Sunday, December 02, 2007

North West

See – on the globe’s curve
where the land ends in darkness
and mankind’s small flame-light
meets the black of the ocean
where the long dusk of summer
is the dream of a heartache
and the warmth of the sun’s light
is lost in the wind blast –
this is where hearts turn
eastward in longing
cry for the Christ-light
to illumine their bleakness
wait for the journey
to lead them to growing
once more believing
the sun will return.