Brief and Lasting, Hard and Fast

Lasting and fleeting

So much I feel the lake lap still

in crisp new Spring’s liquid sun sharp

with winter’s nip at my shameless,

unshod, bare toes where soft  spring breeze

tickles glistening water sheen.

Momentarily I shiver.

 

Sun glint on each wavelet brings clear,

real nearness to each fleeting ripple,

but at some way off in the morning haze

those solid castle walls now seem

a dreamy shadow, not quite true,

as much a ghost as spectral knights

and imagined long dead archers

beneath a roof long rotted away.

 

Every little curve of water is less

than a breath long, but whole lifetimes

watched those stone walls stand. I think

long borne,  unforgiven old hurts.

scarred memories can be like that:

firm, unyielding, but misty shapes,

stuck on landscapes of me.

But in this new son light

Under spirit wind’s soft breath they

become mere ghosts from forgotten times

while bracing eternal waters

wash me in their gracing life flow.

 

© Johan Rich November 2011

 

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It’s pip spitting time!

423 small

There are seasons when the ground is hard and nothing you sow grows

This is not that season

Times when dreams remain dreams, hope – an invisible cord  to cling to

Now is not that time

Lean, barren, colourless and hard

Not even close…

This is the time of seeing every pip you spit take root, grow and flourish

Every dream and desire, come alive in your heart and His hands

The lid is off

The door is open

The soil, ready and waiting.

IT’S PIP SPITTING TIME!

 

 

 

Image

Live Reflecting

Live Reflecting

Our lives are best spent reflecting the nature of our Creator

The Rubbish Heap

007

 

At one time I so dreaded

Growing old, fearing regrets

Dumped in a dark rubbish mound

At my memory’s back door.

 

Would I regret choices made,

Opportunities lost,

Journeys not yet taken,

And friendships forsaken?

 

But now, after the pain

Of fifty years,

Some joys, some tears,

It seems there is some gain.

 

What’s outside I won’t deny,

But the dark heap seems to have

Become a small green hillock

Of soft grass where children play,

My wife delights in the sun,

And friends long known or new made

Bury things of no more use.

 

I guess it is a little

Untidy, but it doesn’t

Seem to smell much any more

And it does give me something

To look at from my back door.

© Johan Rich 2009

Image – Di Wilson

Flash Fiction Photo Challenge

078

This is a first for HCC Living Letters – a photo inspired flash fiction challenge. It came out of one of our small groups – Write and Be Read, and was intended as a mere exercise for writers to flex their story-telling muscles. The challenge was simple – using the above image as a launch point, write a piece no more than 200 words. The two pieces that came in this evening are completely different, each stunning in their own right. I love that they are written by husband and wife. I’ll stop gassing on. Enjoy!


Story 1 by Andrea Rautenbach

I sat in the silence at the crossroad.  What was I going to do?  The blow had come like a sudden hard rain. The anger was simmering below the surface but the fear was winning as it rippled across my mind. Run, RUN, RUN!

We had met two months before at a friend’s house. He was classic tall, dark and handsome and seemed to be perfect.  Tonight perfect seems overrated.

The dinners were evenings spent enjoying stories of misspent youth and previous dates gone wrong.  Afternoons were spent learning to appreciate the outdoors and how much he loved riding his bike.

Tonight was a celebration of sorts, two months of fun, learning and sharing.  Maybe tonight we would become serious.  But not now!  Now I sat wondering how I had missed this, how had I not seen?  What was I going to do?

I had to move had to keep going but where?  Looking in the rear view mirror I noticed the blood trailing down my chin; saw for the first time the damage done.  It was over.  What had started as a dream was done.  Never would he touch me again, never would he see me again.

 

Life 2 by James Rautenbach

O dear, what is that coming from the rear?

There is light, there is shadow, there is bone, there is marrow!  How can I go far when I spend nights looking at the retreating mists of my life while strapped into my safe haven of a car?

O delight, I can see a light – what have I missed, deep in the night.  “It’s all over” they say, “the chance is gone, you are done”.  The light I see broadcasts mockingly at me, or does it?

What if it’s all true; hope can renew me and you?

What if all my regrets, guilt and shame, what if those blotches held against my name, what if whispers, fears and pains, what if anger, darkness and the perceived hatred and negative thoughts words and actions of others, which cover me like a stifling bank of dirt, trying to squeeze my life to despair and helplessness – what if all of this CAN BE SWEPT AWAY IN AN OVERWHELMING, ALL-ENCOMPASSING, EVERLIVING, EVERGIVING, EVERFILLING, EFFERVESCENT, PULSATING, NEVER-ENDING, ALWAYS-HOPING, ALWAYS-LOVING, SAVIOUR-SATURATED, HOPE-RESTORING, PEACE-RETURING inundation of LIFE.

So I unharness, open the door and slowly step into the fresh air of a new-life, everlasting and full of glory…

It’s a New Dawn, It’s a New Day!

001image ~ Di Wilson

You’re Glorified

10.3.2013  During worship on Sunday I wrote the basic words. Johan went to the mic and spoke of how the Lord is Glorified in all things. Gavin then explained that the Lord is even Glorified in our failings. I knew I needed to put the finishing touches to what the Lord had given me.

100

Dolphin leap, the Eagles soars to Your Glory.

Spiders spin, proud Peacocks, Your Glorified.

A gurgle of a stream, of a baby happy,

All murmur:

Lord of all creation, be Glorified.

Flash…CRASH…Raging Waters to Your Glory!

Lions roar, Parrots Screech, Your Glorified.

The scream of the tickled one,

All SHOUT:

Lord Almighty, be Glorified.

Fallen, sin, condemnation. To Your Glory?

Guilt, failed, No Hope. You Glorified?

Where to turn for freedom?

All PAID:

In full, Jesus, be Glorified

 words – Stan Dugmore March 2013     |     image – Di Wilson

 

Sshhh!

Kandas Newness

Hush now-

Growth has

begun!

~

Listen to the

Soft sounds

Of secrets

Revealed

An unfurling

Of dreams

Gone dead

~

Now

Alive

Now

Revived

~

Ssshh…

The song

Of celebration

Is starting

The tune

Of transformation

Is ours

~

Take it.

Trust it.

~

Life given…

Freely received.

image ~ Kandas Ackhurst | words ~ Abi Ackhurst

You Call Me… A Child of Promise

Child of Promise

Now we, as Isaac was, are the children of promise …
And as such we are heirs of the promise made to believing Abraham.
Galatians 4:28 King James Bible (Cambridge Ed – paraphrase)

Image – Di Wilson, also featured on the Facebook page You Call Me

Bubbles & Reflections

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Photos by Scott Wilson