Virtual Methodist

Written in the light of the brutal death of Renee Nicole Good, a mother and award winning poet, who previously served on Christian mission in Northern Ireland. Some poems are predictable, With a fixed rhythm, rhyme and form. Some are pastoral and romantic  Painting uplifting pictures with words. Others are more disturbing Exploring unsettling events and emotions, Devoid of metre or stanza, And with lines cut off. But whatever the form Or subject matter, The best poems live on Beyond their reading, Even when they are cut short By a bullet... Selah

As I said in a previous re-blog of this monologue, it may seem out of tune withe the tinsel and bright lights of this time of year but its based on the lectionary reading from the Gospel if Matthew for today, and seems pertinent given the challenges some people I know are facing at present. The voice of one calling in the wilderness – prepare the way for the Lord… Never were there more ironic words in scripture… They shaped my life… my ministry… I was ready to bring down the high and mighty to make the foundations for that highway in the wilderness… preparing the way for God’s chosen one… But honestly, I wasn’t really prepared myself… And to tell the truth I have felt more like I was in the wilderness over recent weeks and months than all those years in the howling wastes of desert around the Dead Sea… Was I right? Was he the one? Or was all I had done wasted? I’ve had too much time to think… You would think I would be used to that given that I had spent years alone in the ...

I am being very environmentally friendly with all the recycling of old stuff... For the various seasonal services I've been planning I've largely been using pieces by other poets, rather than writing anything new myself... I just have not had the creative energy. And even with these blogs, where I have been delving into my back-catalogue to reflect where I feel I am at the moment, I find that many of my words and ideas are second-hand. Last week I offered a piece inspired in large part by Janet Lees. Here in this one written in the dark days (and nights) of the 2020 pandemic lockdown, which speaks into how I've been feeling in recent days, I have shamelessly stolen from Christina Georgina Rossetti and St. John of the Cross.  Middle of the night, midwinter As bleak as any I’ve known With no snow on snow To cover the decay underfoot. Awake awaiting the dawn Enfolded in the echoing dark The cold silence pregnant With potential, blessing, piercing. But the archangel...

A poem included in my first published collection of poetry " Doodlings and Doggerel " with the dedication "After Isaiah, John the Baptist and Janet Lees." The first two are obvious. The third is a poet who contributed a similar piece to the Christian Aid Advent and Christmas anthology "Shine On" and which I only unearthed years after writing various versions of what follows, realising how her cire concept and phraseology had worked its way into my thinking. It confirmed for me what I have long believed... that I am a literary magpie... stealing shiny words,  phrases and ideas from others to repurpose them...  But good art should always influence and inspire others, prompting not just the theft and recycling of words, but a chain reaction of creativity. So as I reblog/recycle my own words this morning msy they prompt some sort of response in you my reader/s. There’s still a lot of crying in the wilderness, In the post-industrial wastelands, The ...

10 Days ago I joined many others at Clonard Monastery for the 10th Anniversary Memorial of the death of Father Gerry Reynolds. Honestly, I was torn being there. The past few months have been hectic for various reasons, and a number of situations have put me under significant pressure and left me feeling more than a little anxious. Maybe I will be able to write about them at another time, but that time has not yet come... And on that particular evening there were many, many things clouding my heart and mind. But I had not been able to attend Father Gerry's funeral 10 years ago, so I was determined not to miss this opportunity to mark not only the death but the life of a man who was a massive influence on me and countless others. And as it turned out it was doubly right that I was there, because a couple of people referred to a repeated refrain of Father Gerry's "Let it unfold..." And it was as if I was hearing Gerry speaking to me directly from the grave, gently correc...

The Grosvenor Hall congregation had its final service yesterday afternoon, marking 136 years of faithful worship and witness. The work of the wider Belfast Central Mission goes on however, and indeed, we will be gathering again in Grosvenor House on the second Sunday of next month to mark the beginning of the Annual Toy/Gift Appeal... But back in June, after the decision had to close had been taken, I was out visiting some members of the congregation who hadn't been out for a few weeks, and after a fruitless attempt to visit two houses in a row I thought I would stop off in Sir Thomas and Lady Dixon Park and grab a coffee. It was a beautiful day and I had been listening to Eddi Reader singing Burns songs in the car, and as I sat in the sunshine the following song, set to the tune of "Ae Fond Kiss" sprang almost fully formed into my head. At yesterday's emotional farewell, my two friends Jim Deeds and Diane Holt, sang these words as a benediction to those who had gathe...