Category Archives: Poetry

Will you be a drummer boy?

Posted on by

Will you be a drummer boy
When you’re big and handsome,
Will you play the fife and drum
As you march along?

Will you wear a soldier’s coat
When you’re big and handsome,
Scarlet jacket, buttons gold,
As you march along?

Will you whistle soldiers’ songs
When you’re big and handsome,
Will you fashion manhood’s dreams
As you march along?

May you tread the ways of peace
When you’re big and handsome,
Nothing harm and no one wrong
As you march along.

Far from you the threat of war
When you’re big and handsome,
A drummer boy and nothing more
As you march along.

June 1980

Solo Journey

Posted on by

I have pulled away from the shores of faith
And made for the open sea,
With the wind of reason cold in my sails
But no sirens calling me.

I have left behind the dogmas of youth
With their golden certainties.
No more for me at each end of the day
The comforting liturgies.

In the misty regions of un-belief
Where master and boat are one,
Without sextant, compass, landmark or stars
I must navigate alone.

But an aching grows in the heart of me
And a sadness fills my mind
At the thought of promises shared no more
And traditions left behind.

I’ll travel no more the Emmaus road
Nor see in faith’s cloudless light
A saviour revealed by the breaking of bread
In an inn at the fall of night.

In my questing to find the Tree of Life
Across the uncharted sea,
Perhaps I will find, when journeying’s done,
That its roots are anchored in me.

1988

The Mighty Hunter

Posted on by

The path through the beech trees is frozen and white
And the forest lies covered in snow,
And I’m a great hunter with shotgun held tight
Which I carry wherever I go.

I’m not very frightened though the woods are so dark
And bears hide behind every tree,
The things I don’t like are the tracks in the snow
Which insist upon following me.

They are too big for squirrels and too small for lions
Or tigers, or wolf cubs or bear;
Though their shape is familiar and I’d know them again,
When I turn there is no creature there.

It’s a little alarming, even scaring I’d say,
For a clever young hunter like me
To know while I’m hunting alone in the woods
That some other beast’s hunting me.

I’ve spoken to Mummy, she says “It’s all right,
Don’t be frightened, don’t worry, there, there!”
But she doesn’t go hunting, doesn’t know what it’s like
To be followed by something out there.

And the strange thing I’ve noticed when hunting is done
And I trudge home again through the snow,
The tracks follow me homewards right up to my door,
Where they go after that I don’t know.

10 April 1975