Reduced to its skeleton, the treeremembers days of birds in bowers,leaves atwitter,branches bent with the weight of fruit,and now bent with the wait of dayswhen flourishing’s a memory.But still the soil nurtures.Still the roots draw deep and branchesin their stasis grow in strength.Still rosehips bud where flowers didand the eagle,grace in his pinions,takes twigs andContinue reading “Bone Winter”
Author Archives: Matthew Pullar
And who is my neighbour?
Love, sensing Self flex muscles,Circumvents the question, takes a detourAlong a Jericho road,A thoroughfare often taken, seldom observed.Love stretches the story out,Beyond expectation, beyond our trust,Defeats its stock of righteous men,Then surprises with a foe.Love befriends the enemy,Gives face and heart to the hated one.Love helps us up the donkey’s back,Carries us safe, far fromContinue reading “And who is my neighbour?”
The Long Ordinary
Winter sets in,rubs his damp feet all through the laundry,wipes his everwet hair with each handtowel,breathes ice on my windscreen,cries soggy complaints on my feet.And somewhere we are lostbetween fire and candle, lostin the long, slow ordinary that yawnsin between.Days blink; you miss the momentof daylight, the chanceto dry out and be.Only blessingspans the gapContinue reading “The Long Ordinary”
Holy Mess
Sanctify the compost heapwhere I trudge in dark with the day’s dank scraps.Sanctify the living stench,soil’s second chance,barren fig-tree’s friend.Sanctify the dishes piledon piles around the cluttered sink.Sanctify the time it takesto scrub and dry,to sort and stack.Sanctify numb fingers, iceon windscreen that delays the day,brittle tests when patience is small.Sanctify mess,sanctify time.Sanctify unholy pain;sanctifyContinue reading “Holy Mess”
Psalm (from “Les Feuilles Mortes”)
It can be hard to capture emptiness with words, but often that is the primary emotion that I bring to my poems. This poem is a prayer that I wrote originally as the final part of a sequence of poems inspired by John Coltrane’s “A Love Supreme”. The final track of that album is soContinue reading “Psalm (from “Les Feuilles Mortes”)”
Silence
If words fail, being only breath,Look to the one who was himselfThe Word, though many said not.Look to the one whose lastBreath, crushed by Satan’sKnee, was “Forgive.”Look to HimAnd keepFaith.
Late Night Bread
Kneadingafter the kids are asleepand the day’s tidy-up’s done,kneadingunresolved jobs anddisappointment intopositive dispersal of yeast throughdough,kneading prayer,kneading thoughtof friend in need, kneadingthe lossof this or that hope,kneading hope.And pounding,pounding heaven’s door like a breadboard,pounding grace into slackand crumbling day,pounding the gateof coming kingdom,pounding the weight of the season,the wait of the harvest,the slowness of leaven,theContinue reading “Late Night Bread”
Autumn Leaves: a preview
As schools reopen in my part of the world, I have had the strange, disorientating experience of returning to work yet nothing being the same. But beside my office in the school library are some gorgeous auburn leaves that soothe me whenever I pass them. So I’m sharing them here with you today, along withContinue reading “Autumn Leaves: a preview”
Launching “Les Feuilles Mortes” on Saturday 30th May
I’m thrilled to have my new book of poetry “Les Feuilles Mortes” ready to launch on Saturday 30th May, one week today. In our society distanced days, it’ll be an online launch, but this has given me the wonderful opportunity to have more people involved than I would have otherwise, with friends near and farContinue reading “Launching “Les Feuilles Mortes” on Saturday 30th May”
Letter to my children – a quarantine preview
I’m looking forward to sharing a number of videos of poems from my upcoming book Les Feuilles Mortes in the coming weeks, including several from my friends and readers across the world. Here is the first, a letter written in quarantine to my young children.
The Consolations of Writing 