Three Jesus poems

05 September 2007

Knocking Behold, I stand at the door, and knock... Revelation 3: 20 If I could ignore this Man Who stands at my door and knocks, I could parcel the rest of it up And put it away in a box, Like the clothes that are now outworn, The shoes that no longer fit, The books in childhood loved When I was content to sit And hear of Aladdin and Jack, Hansel, Gretel, and Faithful John, Before falling asleep with magic Pillow to dream them on... Though I busy myself for a while With the daily ebb and flow Of things that have 'got ot be done' Nevertheless, I know That if I imagine that time Will end this whole affair, When I open the door, behold, He'll still be standing there! Then, what must I do (although The lights in the house may be dim) But invite Him to enter and at last Be honoured to sup with Him? – Bruce Dawe seeing all fish if Jesus was a swimmer he'd be you, blue flip- pers for sandals, sinewed torso arrowing the surf, bearded lips sucking at now, at one in the sea's wilderness, smoothing the thrill and ripple, you, seeing all fish, dreaming of loaves – Kevin Gillam The Thirteenth Matthew 4: 17-22 He kept the shell afterwards showing the fluted puzzle of its coil in an ancient but complicated journey a spiral of intent to a convoluted heart the legacy of sea-flown days the perplexity of tides torn nets and the caprice of fish four in the afternoon still a dilemma of deep water with all of them resigned to the silence between the words from him with lures for eyes sure footedness for ships and sand bent on collecting but more than beachcombing leaving him with a dock of boats worrying at a broken shell in his palm after the dejection of not being called. – Jeff Guess

ARTS AND CULTURE

Three Jesus poems

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