Good Friday

It was not a gentle, cosy scene

of pastel-coloured calm

where quiet exchanges saved us.

Nor a handshake place,

where deals were dealt

and everyone left happy.

No.

It was a time of rage and cruelty,

when justice fled,

and innocent blood was shed.

It was a dark and deadly place,

the sun obscured at noon

as the earth quaked.

Good?

Could this Friday be Good,

when evil reigned

over innocence?

Could this death be Good,

this agony downplayed,

this seeming failure glorified?

Oh yes!

For good was done that day.

A way was made for us

to be restored.

For us the unachievable,

to stand in purity,

before our God.

The flawless one became

the perfect intervention,

His life for our salvation.

It was a Good Friday.

Ellen Carr 2023

There is Resurrection (Easter: Part 3)

This was written a few years back but it’s still true! May God give you hope on this Easter Sunday even in this time of the pandemic and its sad impact. God is still in control. Christ is Risen!

Postbox Poetry

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So Much, So Dear

Green hills stretch out and a breeze blows in
as I step into the familiar,
so close to my heart,
so much my home.

The path by the house is my well-trodden way,
that leads to the brown back door,
so usually open,
so much my home.
 
The welcome that meets me whenever I go,
reaches me deep in my soul,
so rich is its warmth,
so much my home.

Though the years have passed slowly by
and I now live far away,
there's history at work
around my dear home.

Now the memory pictures play
on the vivid screen of my brain,
though others now live there
in my dear home.

Memories of family and fervent faith,
of a father on his knees
in prayer each night,
so dear my home.

Pictures of laughter and gentle love,
of a mother who did so much
to bring me to faith,
so dear my home.

The lessons I learnt of sharing and love,
of grace and an open door,
have stood me well
in my new dear home.

Knowing the value of warmth and faith,
of well-worn tables and chairs,
has guided the welcome
in my new dear home.

Green lawns stretch out and a gentle breeze,
wafts round this shelter of love,
not just a house,
so much my new dear home.

---

It’s Christmas

It's Christmas time and the traffic is crazy,
With people preparing to eat and be lazy,
Long Summer days are stretching ahead,
Wishes are offered and greetings are said.

And the scene with the manger is here,
This Nativity time of the year,
Telling the story so old,
Of frankincense, myrrh and of gold.
Of the shepherds gazing in awe,
At the babe in the stable so poor.

It's Christmas time and the fridge is replete
With turkey and pudding, and good things to eat.
The pantry is stacked with biscuits and cake,
And all of the Christmassy food that we bake.

And the scene of the stable is here,
This Nativity time of the year,
Drawing our thoughts to the One,
For whom Christmas time was begun,
God-become-man as a babe,
Born his creation to save.

It's Christmas time and the church bells ring,
Prayers are spoken and people sing,
Worshipping God who came to Earth,
Celebrating the Saviour's birth.

And the scene of the Bethlehem night, 
With the star up above giving light,
Speaks of the world-changing time,
When mundane was replaced by sublime,
When salvation arrived for us all,
In a baby new-born and so small.
© Copyright Ellen Carr 2018

Daylight Saving

What did you do in your house last night?
Did you sort out the clocks and get them all right?
Did you fix up the microwave, stove and TV,
turn their clocks on so their times all agree?
Did you work out the way to change each device,
which buttons to press or to tap once or twice?
Did you alter the wall clock and bedside alarm,
the clock in your car and the watch on your arm? 

Then, after you'd done all that changing of clocks,
did you check out the fire alarms and all the locks?
Did you get yourself moving, and early to bed
so you'd wake bright and chirpy, not grumpy instead?
Did you leap out of bed with a sense of delight
that somehow the morning still seemed like the night?
Did you think of the power you'll be saving each day,
now Daylight Saving has come into play? 

Or did you get sleepily out of your bed,
wondering why you were feeling half dead,
remember the reason and, with a sigh,
wish you could wave Daylight Saving goodbye! 

 

© Copyright Ellen Carr 28-9-17 (The day before Daylight Saving started here.)

 

The Mailbox

Today I am sharing this lovely poem and artwork  by J E McWhinnie, with his kind permission.

The Mailbox
by j.e. mcwhinnie

At the far end of the dusty road,
where the farm gave way to the highway,
at the corner of the fence of the northwest forty,
where the letters of life were exchanged.

 

Here on a post, weathered and leaning,
in a box of rust and wire,
here where a flag did rise and fall
where the mailman came to call.

 

There at the juncture of a farm and a world,
there where a left-handed car did pause,
there where the wares in their catalogs came,
there at the end of the lane.

 

Then one fateful day the young boy left,
then the mailman came no more,
then when the farm turned sad and fallow,
and oh, how I miss it so.

But Who?

Dazzling beauty greets us

as we lift our gaze

to grandest mountains,

watching soft clouds drift

across a sapphire sky,

as a great hawk soars overhead.

But who is the artist?

 

Symphonic sounds rise together,

piercing the silence

of the morning light,

heralding joyous life,

a bird-song of movement,

and natural melodies.

But who writes the music?

 

Minute creatures crawl the ground,

slither and creep around

on tiny stomachs and legs,

weaving their silken webs,

or trailing silvery lines

in fine precision.

But who is their designer?

 

In intricacy or grandeur,

in whispers, or roaring waves,

the microscopic, the gigantic,

tiny feelers, or highest peaks,

all is in order,

all follows a plan.

There is One who oversees it all.

 

The jigsaw is fitted together,

so nothing is out of its place,

each piece the design of the Maker,

fashioned in detail by His hands

to take its place

in the glorious world,

sustained by His wisdom and care.

 

The mystery of the beginning,

the puzzle of how things will end,

in the hands of the loving Creator,

are ordered, secure and sure,

in His big plan

for all of time.

The puzzle is complete.

Pentecost

A motley crew, we wait and pray.

The Master's gone. We wished he'd stay.

The Baptism, the promised power,

is coming soon, the awaited hour.


Pentecost. We're all together,

A violent wind, noisy weather,

blows inside, a mighty sound.

Tongues of fire spread around,

rest upon each person's head.

Our voices speak, Spirit-led.


We speak in words of unknown tongue,

men and women, old and young.

A traveller come from far away,

hears his language on that day.

He understands. The words are clear,

a simple message to his ear.

Jesus Saviour, Lord of all,

great Messiah. Heed his call.


Brother Peter takes the floor,

tells the Good News, stirs up awe.

Calls repentance. Be baptised.

Receive the Spirit, the gift so prized.


Thousands listen, turn around,

to follow Jesus, freedom found.

A Church explosion, mighty acts,

prayer and praise. Amazing facts.

© Ellen Carr 2016

This book is on special

Glimpses of Light: Stories of imagination and hope

Here’s another Mother’s Day bargain. This anthology of stories and poems around the theme of light, written by members of Christian Writers’ Downunder, is selling at a special price right now.

Two of my poems are included in this book, along with some wonderful other poetry and stories. I highly recommend it.

Here’s the link to it on Amazon:

My poetry book free for 48 hours

My poetry book, SHOES OFF, FEET UP: POEMS OF EVERYDAY LIFE AND FAITH is available free for 2 days, right now, as a Mother’s Day treat.

Please feel free to download it. (And if you’d like to comment, or send me a message, or leave a review , that would be great. Otherwise, just enjoy some everyday poetry.)

http://www.amazon.com/Shoes-Off-Feet-Up-everyday/dp/099448660X