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Thursday, 2 November 2023

Mercy

 He sat with autumn's mother , awaiting daughter spring ,  dreaming  of warm days to come and the songs they were to sing.  He took her maiden hand in his , and there placed his golden ring, it gave her hope through winter's cold of the promised warmth he'd bring.  But jealous winter, felt cheated sore, lashed out with icy wind, and snatched away her dowry poor and froze him with a sting. He fought against the icy blast with even colder rage , which sadly tore  her from the bower , that her gentle sun had made. 

She cried forlorn to lose her prince and see instead a shade ,  as winter closed his heart away in a stern protective cave. 


He railed madly at the stubborn rock with an angry righteous blade , how dare they cheat him in this way and  lay claim to spring's parade ?


So there he stood, with blunted knife, as the last of the blossom fell dismayed and angry with his life, he heard the distant knell. 


And there are stories one could tell, of broken stricken men, nursing unforgiveness, with hearts that never mend.  having shunned the only witness who the aching wound could  quell, they sit alone and friendless in cold and bitter cells. 


But this account has more to say of when the rock caved in.

The cracks of summers  broken heart let the healing rain pour in. 


The tree that sprang from this small chance,  had leaves that grew again , springing from the many scars as the love came flooding in. 


What broke the rock ?

We stop to ask

as we approach the end.


The gentle love of a father's heart 

Who'se mercy never ends.


October 2023


Monday, 27 March 2023

The Anvil

 



He  took an iron from among the pack 

Spitting  sparks

Left at the back

Thrown in with others

He had lost all track 


Though almost seared 

By the forge's heat

He plunged it in the water deep

Across the coals 

He hauled back 

And Quenched again 

Until the heart was black 


Chiselled off the ruined part

Hammered square

And set apart 

To the forge returned 

Then cooled once more 

To temper 

Strengthen

And restore 


He knows 

When cherry red it glows 

It is time

To fashion the piece he chose

And with tongs

Takes mine

Holds strong. 


Now laid across

The anvil's face

The hammer applied 

To the offered place 


With precise control 

The iron is drawn 

A thing of strength 

And beauty 

Born


While the iron is hot,

'Strike!'

They say 

There may not come another day.

But give each piece

It's proper time 

And treat with skill 

This life of mine


A heart that once

Was cold and raw 

Then left to blister by testing, sore

Will not respond,

Until made sure

That these "blows of love"

Are really yours. 


Joseph Morriss

Colindres , Cantabria 

March 2023.