A half-baked poem

This afternoon my Year 12 Literature class was working on an assessment task quietly and, in the final few minutes, having run out of marking to do at that moment, I scribbled down this poem. I’m sure it’s a long way from being a fully-fledged poem, but I quite like it and so am sharing it with you, for what it’s worth. I’ve tentatively called it “You Know What”, but am open to suggestions!

We can do this, though we haven’t tried lately:
The colliding of persons, concatenation of spirits,
The way that planets glide in complementary orbits,
Pulsing forces aiding each other’s motions.
We can do this, can’t we? You remember how,
The dog chasing its ragged bone and you,
Crestfallen, off your bike, heels in the air, while I
Collide with the wind pushed off your sandals
And weep because your knee-gash smarts
When I look at it too; and the sceptical gaze
Of the dog, who cares more for just one thing,
At each moment, than any other, and our spirits
Divided across places we’ve left and not known yet,
Across bodies we’ll soon lose. We can do this, you know,
Again and again – watch our memory-selves fall, glide, 
Now collide. You know how it goes,
For go it always does.


Free sample of poems

For anyone who has not yet had a look at my collection of poems, “Petalshower and Windfall”, you can download a free sample  of twelve of the poems from that collection. If you like them, please consider downloading the complete eBook at the Amazon Kindle store here.

Also, be on the lookout for the forthcoming collection of my “Sabah Poems”. I will publish a couple of samples from the collection in the next few days.

Why consolation?

If you have visited this blog before, you will possibly have noticed that it has changed its name – minutes, in fact, prior to this post being published. So why the name change? Well, a few reasons. Firstly, the original name – the best I could come up with when I put the site online – was taken by Nicholas Sparks several years ago and I don’t want to steal his thunder. Secondly, it struck me that the title of this site should be more reflective of what the site itself is about. Since I began posting here, I have found a recurring theme in the nature of my posts. Much of what I have posted here was written out of hardship. All of it reflects the hope and wisdom that can only be gained from the same kinds of hardship. That seems to be a fairly special and significant thing.

Then today I began reading a book which my housemate just bought, “The Consolations of Theology”, edited by the new principal of Ridley Theological College, Brian S. Rosner. The book begins with these words, written by American church historian Gwenfair Walter Adams:

Some of the world’s most powerful literature emerged in the nexus of enforced waiting, loneliness, deprivation, cold, hunger, and fear that has marked the arena, the dungeon, the tower, the jail. Over the centuries, many prisoners, when looking for comfort, turned to writing. (Adams, “Prologue: On Consolation”, in Rosner, ed. The Consolations of Theology, Eerdmans, 2008)

These words, as you can perhaps imagine, were particularly resonant for me. Now, I’m not going to suggest that writing in and of itself is a consoling experience. It can be, at times, quite the opposite, when the approach or motivation is wrong. But, when we write with our eyes, however weak, directed upwards to God, it can only ever be uplifting; and the experience of seeing hopeful words written when you know for a fact that you were far from hopeful when you wrote them: that can be one of the greatest consolations of all.

Missional Devotions

While I was living and working in Malaysia two years ago, I wrote quite extensively. Not fiction, but a fair bit of poetry and a lot of what I call “devotions”: reflections on Bible passages or aspects of the Christian life that struck me. I am offering a few of them here, for what they are worth:

Working for Joy

Accept This Foreigner (Luke 17:15-19)

Spiritual Comedown (1 Kings 19:3-4)


Reading History Backwards

Religious doubts can come in various forms. Sometimes mine are intellectual, but more often than not they are emotional. One thing I find, however, is that, when I am in the throes of some spiritual malaise or disconnectedness from God, my mind can play tricks on me and can bring back to the surface intellectual doubts which I quelled a long time ago. One of the best ways to counter this, I find, is to document the answers that I came to regarding those more intellectual doubts. Then, at least, I can remind myself that the intellectual questions have been answered and that what remains is, however powerful, at the very least not particularly rational.

Here is an essay I wrote last year when I was struggling with what is often called “redaction criticism” – an approach to Biblical history which views the Bible as a hodge-podge of different accounts that have been poorly and unreliably cobbled together. My knowledge of these topics is not great but it is something I have had to wrestle with. I hope that my recorded thoughts and answers can benefit those who have struggled with similar questions.