So, I've decided to use my blog to post some of my poetry (uh, hum...). Yes, well, it's not as if it's comparable to Yeats or any poets I admire, but I've decided to share anyway.
I wrote this in November 2006 when living in the Catholic Chaplaincy in London. It's a mediation on the Eucharist. Funny story which accompanies this. The Chaplaincy was hosting one of its all night Eucharistic vigils. It was a friend's birthday and a few of us had done our half hour stint in the Chapel, having nice bit of quiet time with our Lord before going out for her birthday to a ubiquitous Polish bar in central London and having a few too many vodka shots. Afterwards, I went and slumped into bed. A couple of friends returned to the chapel circa 4 am. The birthday girl was so deep in drunken prayer she passed out in the chapel to be awoken in the morning by the fire alarm going off, smoke, incense, a priest aka 7 am mass. I wanted to capture the ordinary moments of our life stories which accompany the larger than life story of the Eucharist...however, the drunken moments didn't quite make it into the poem.
I wrote this in November 2006 when living in the Catholic Chaplaincy in London. It's a mediation on the Eucharist. Funny story which accompanies this. The Chaplaincy was hosting one of its all night Eucharistic vigils. It was a friend's birthday and a few of us had done our half hour stint in the Chapel, having nice bit of quiet time with our Lord before going out for her birthday to a ubiquitous Polish bar in central London and having a few too many vodka shots. Afterwards, I went and slumped into bed. A couple of friends returned to the chapel circa 4 am. The birthday girl was so deep in drunken prayer she passed out in the chapel to be awoken in the morning by the fire alarm going off, smoke, incense, a priest aka 7 am mass. I wanted to capture the ordinary moments of our life stories which accompany the larger than life story of the Eucharist...however, the drunken moments didn't quite make it into the poem.
Eucharist (November 2006)
In fields festooned with rippling wheat
Fertilised by the sun’s ardent kiss
On vines engorged in the summer’s heat
God easily found in rural bliss
In the pummelling of squelching dough
Beneath a waning hand
In the pounding of grapes under toe
We witness a show so grand
That in the midst of our suffering
Through our joys and our pain
In our inadequate offerings
God is with us once again
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