The heart is deceitful above all things; But the fading brain has its own daytime delusions, Pulling all the shutters up, Leaving the dirty dishes undone, Denying all rumours of people at home And threading needles to stitch up The wounds that no-one else can see. The heart is deceitful above all things, But theseContinue reading “Heart and Mind”
Author Archives: Matthew Pullar
Languor
Dali painted sleep how it feels To be drooping languidly upon Daytime’s set of wooden prongs: Awake and yet invertebrate, Held up by forces that impose Their sharpness on the tilted soul, The night-time of old age propped up While all around seems clear blue sky.
Clean Hands and Pure Heart (Seventh Sunday After Pentecost)
I am not a prophet nor A prophet’s son. I am a herdsman And I dress the bowers of The sycamore. The Lord called to me With His plumb-line And He said, “Amos, hold this Plumb-line against my people Israel. No more will I pass them by.” “Who may ascend the hill of God?” WeContinue reading “Clean Hands and Pure Heart (Seventh Sunday After Pentecost)”
The Bishop of Pyramid Hill (For Sydney James Kirkby)
Open and dry, the plains drew him in; They say he “carried his swag” where he went. He knew how to sketch and could play the piano, A bag full of gifts always ready for use. In city or bush he looked for a city That was not yet here; so he set down hisContinue reading “The Bishop of Pyramid Hill (For Sydney James Kirkby)”
A Prayer (For Benedict of Nursia)
Crux sacra sit mihi lux! Non draco sit mihi dux! May the holy cross be my light! May the dragon never be my overlord! (Prayer of the Saint Benedict Medal) Caught between the rule and obedience, Scarcely strong enough to hold but Scared of where my sins might take me, May I know the loveContinue reading “A Prayer (For Benedict of Nursia)”
South for the Winter Part Four: South
Here is another excerpt from my Tasmanian travelogue. This chapter tells the story of my journey to the southern-most tip of road in Australia: Cockle Creek in the far south of the Huon Region. The modern world does not hold many more physical frontiers. Star Trek once famously decreed that space was the “final frontier”,Continue reading “South for the Winter Part Four: South”
A Great City Stood (The Sixth Sunday After Pentecost)
A great city stood, on a hill so tall That it reached to the heavens and took in all Who came there to dwell in its rich home of peace, With a king strong and humble, A king and a priest, And a God who dwelt with them, There with them all. And the nationsContinue reading “A Great City Stood (The Sixth Sunday After Pentecost)”
South for the Winter Part 3: Port Arthur
Here is another excerpt from my Tasmanian travelogue, this one recounting my trip down to the infamous Port Arthur convict prison. There is light drizzle as I approach the Port Arthur Historical Site and, in the dimmer light in the forest which I am driving through, I turn on my headlights. When I arrive, however,Continue reading “South for the Winter Part 3: Port Arthur”
South for the Winter Part 2
The following is an excerpt from the second chapter in my Tasmanian travelogue. I hope you enjoy it. The morning begins in fits and starts, much like the way the traffic exits the boats: sudden chugs of motion with elongated periods of stasis. Sleep, for one thing, is fitful at best. The beds are comfortableContinue reading “South for the Winter Part 2”
South for the Winter Part 1: The Voyage
The following is the beginnings of a new project I am working on – a kind of travel journal I am keeping during my winter holiday in Tasmania, which I will write as I go then edit and collate when I am finished. Here is a preview of the first entry: 2nd July: The VoyageContinue reading “South for the Winter Part 1: The Voyage”
The Consolations of Writing 