February Lamb

Today the grass and sky are shining
In perfect sunny hue
The land soaked clean by Winter's snow
And everything made new.

Today everyone is up and out
The breeze is bracing
Fresh and clean
The birds are busy in hedge and tree
While circling buzzards keen.

Remember this day of brand new life
Revealed from neath it's shroud
With it's promise of new beginnings
And mother of newborn proud

For March is round the corner
With temper hard and stern
Winter's ire has one last blast
Afore the seasons turn.

So when the gales and tempests roar
And the sky's fair face is marred
Remember the day you glimpsed this joy
And let is gladden your aching heart.



Written for my Niece, Dulcie "Hope"

Joe Morriss

Feb 2009

Beginning of March

There was a time when hope was in vain
It never ceased to freeze and rain
Sleet turned to ice and then back again

The barren womb of Winter lay
Forgotten by flower 
Untouched by sun's ray
The bare branch blew
Day after grey day

Then the season shifted
Certain changes came
The shelving of rich hearthside legends
The talk of many a muffled walk
Like the sap which surges through stem and stalk.

Like a sign of life
The sun shone that day
An emblem of the everlasting
Lambs leaping at your coming
The Lark signing its skyward longing.

With face as yet unseen
This spring-child comes
Yet we hear his heartbeat like distant drums
And though the hope of many dies
We face the day with faith filled eyes.

Joe Morriss

March 2008

The Worst Prison

Come and see the most oppressive place...
It has no respect for any race...
Here you are underfed
Here you are overcrowded
The walls are bare and the bunks are hard.

This prison is so oppressive...
Its truly overcrowded...
In this prison, no one leaves
From here there is no escape
No chance of parole or release.

Once here, life means life...
Overcrowded and under provisioned...
Yes come and see the most oppressive place
It really has no respect of race.

See the sign above the big prison gates...
Its name so clear to see...
Worse than Dartmoor, Alcatraz and SingSing
Worse than Devil's Island...

Four letters spell this prison's name:
W-A-N-T...

The prison of want.

By
Paul "Protector" ex prisoner 
February 2015

Open Hearted Church

The ever open door

Now firmly closed

Against the rain, against the cold

Ornate, foreboding and set in stone

The gateway to safety,

Beautifully carved

Pleasing to the eye

But heavily barred.

There she lays

On the floor

Just skin and bone

Out in the rain
Exposed to the cold

Giving up hope and left all alone

At the gateway to safety,

Beautifully carved

Pleasing to the eye

But heavily barred.

Is there nothing more

Beyond that door

Than the priest with his crimson and gold?

What about sharing

What about the poor?

At the gateway to safety,

Beautifully carved

Pleasing to the eye

But heavily barred.

That's what we're here for

For those who roam

Who lay in the rain and the freezing cold

They need a welcome

And they need a home

Not a gateway to safety, that's beautifully carved...

But a church that will love and open its heart.

Joe Morriss

January 2010

Silver Cloud

Bright sunlight

Cloud and sunlight

Slate grey water sparkles bright

Silver sunlight

Shines through grey cloud

Full of snow

Topped with blue and white

Joe Morriss

February 2012

Don't let them blow away

I walked out on a blowy day
I thought as I went along my way
At how the world is so full of people
Cars and houses too.
So many different clothes and faces
So many different colours and races

And then I felt a burden come
To know the meaning of this one
What am I, one man, to do
With so many souls
Just passing through?

So there I sat upon a bench
Until I thought my heart would wrench
I asked the Father to speak to me
What is my life supposed to be?

The the wind blew
Gusting strong
And all the leaves started racing along
They scurried and skipped
And danced and tripped

My thoughts were stirred
My gaze fixed upon
As if God had just
"where I blow....men follow along"
They have no choice but to live and then die,
To blow from here to where, and why?

In a lull, the wind abated
The rushing stopped, next gust awaited
A passer-by without asking why
Just stopped and picked up a tumbled leaf...
My heart skipped a beat
I leapt from my seat! 

Again the multitude raced by
And I quickly stopped one which caught my eye
Then I stumbled after the next
Gathering, laughing
Out of breath!

On and on they aimlessly raced
But I'd saved a few from an unknown place

To stop and hold these passing leaves
Brought great joy, at last, to me
I realised exactly what God would say
"These leaves are like souls...don't let them blow away".

Joe Morriss
2005

A Mother's touch

Beneath the morning grey she bends
Within her clasped hands coloured flowers
Whilst as the mourning grave she tends
And whiles away a lonely hour.

Her son, the grown man
No longer sees
What looking up she sees of him,
As sun falls through the autumn leaves
And the homely Robin sings his hymn.

A violet bunch of varied stems
Heather, Vetch and Tare
her aged fingers parting them
And placing each with care.

Each year remembered
This stony bed
A fragrant beauty feels
As life long ended rests its head
Where a mother's touch has healed.


Joe Morriss
October 5th 2014