Building friendship

Friendship is unfinished business

Some build their castle and keep building

Some of us got caught in the rubble;

Of collapse and trouble.

Others will reach for the sky

And believe every lie.

Some of us just Burst the bubble.

The friendship of fools is a gold rush

A prospecting

Collecting a coiterie

A menagerie of well wishers and prospective partners.

Eggs in one basket are soon dropped and broken.

I hang on to every word spoken

Look for an opening and hope beyond hoping.

Rejected yet again or maybe even simply ignored. Yes the friendship of fools leaves your best intentions floored.

Don't close the door , just yet.

Room for one more, you bet.

True friendship began when I stopped making a plan.

Look around;

What you see is what you get.

Joe Morriss, storefield northants, 5.8.2017

Golden Leaves - all hallows eve

Golden Leaves - all hallows eve

These golden leaves
On all the trees
Make me wonder
If we'll ever see
The Kingdom come
And then we'll run
With golden crowns into the sun.

The gentle breeze
That stirs those leaves
Soothes my mind and memories
Of things we've done
And all the fun
We had while tales around us spun

This is the eve
Of Saints' reprieve
Before their bright eternity
All pain has gone
With God the son
As Christ the risen saviour comes.

Wanna you

I wanna grow real old with you and catch all of your fleas. Leave the gas on scald the cat and lose all of our keys.

I wanna do what I'm told by you. Then blatantly disobey. Then pretend I'm deaf as mutton Jeff and do it anyway

I wanna run the race with you and get real far ahead. I wanna stay at home with you and curl up snug in bed.

I wanna say so much to you. But so much has been said. So I hope you won't be troubled if I leave this kiss instead. X

The other side

It was the falling which called my attention.
The silhouetted branches gradually devoid of cover
Stark black barren. Slick with recent rains and shaking like cold veins in the morning sun

The other side was green and great and still crowned with verdant glory.
Goldening in the misty autumn

Season of falling and failing the last threads of life still clinging like web to the branch collecting dew.

I think of you. As age approaches.
Your senses more ripe and less attuned
Misty the eye and moist. Takes sharp edges off sight and loves what it sees as seasoned memory pours through the veil.

I will lose you and it will be like the cracking of a brittle twig. Fit for the earth not flight. Not a perch for deaths dark birds.  But for now you still have that other side, the one that carried so much fruit and yielded so much joy.

The sun rises in your leafy branches and you shake of the rainy breeze. Just another winter sneeze. Don't think too hard about the other side.

Joe Morriss
Inspired by Aidan Ashby's morning tree.
October 2016

St Cuthbert's island

The buffeting breeze and rippling waves settle down to a steady rhythm.

You are the god of the tides, I say.
And how true this is.

Day by day the rock stands ringed by sands, and stone.

No one comes and goes except for the tide.
Now crowded , now alone

Better to travel on the outgoing tide, adventure bound than stand forlorn in sand and stone. Untold unfound.

You are the god of the tides I say
And how true that is.

Seize the day let peace abide
And know your life is his.

Lindisfarne by Richard Morriss

LINDISFARNE
Life cries in the sand wind
Breath hushes the sea grass
The sea leans softly to the land
And a million creatures feel it pass

And they chatter in the village street, walking on the stones
Gazing at the ruins, walking on the bones

Life beams warm from the sun
Praised by God-clothed flowers
The tide has left small streams to run
Drawn back to the deep by unseen power

And they slam doors in the car park, walking on the stones
Buying tea and tickets, walking on the bones

A road joins land to mainland
A cross joins earth to heaven
The sea can hiss and thunder
But the rock sand land stands even

And boots crunch to the castle, walking on the stones
Built by Henry’s soldiers, walking on the bones

There are prayers in the grey church
Still warm with the grace of I AM
There is a hollow by the island cross
Where grasses listen to the lifting wind
And the stones can hear the running of the tide
I AM is there
And the roof has all the patterns of the sky

I AM who conquered brooding death
I AM breath of the moving wind
I AM light on the soothing waves
I AM life in the soaking sand

I come breathing in the sea light
I come standing in the rock faith
I come whistling with the birds’ prayer
I come running with the tide’s wave

Come you breathing in the sea light
Come you standing in the rock faith
Come you whistling with the birds’ prayer
Come you running like the tide’s wave

Weave in, weave in the Father, Son in woven faith in weaven pattern
Spirit’s  working weft of all creation, I in Them and Thou in Me

And they’re coming out at closing time from walking on the stones
A little life, a little life from walking on the bones

August 1999

Prodigal

Broken. He came home, broken. Bits of bike under truck wheels on a dark night. On the road. Broken. He came home.

Not another word spoken. Where god tears great gaps….puff daddy raps but the wound is still open. He came home broken.

He came home to father or rather he lay in waiting. The morgue lights fading. Pain in the uncovering rage in the discovering. Fathers arms open.

Another token.

The prodigal had a better ride. Fathers arms open wide. Ring n ting party's over. Rolling in clover. Who knows what road he took on that dark night. Oily tarmac shouts back. Broken.

Diesel and dust is a must. Don't let your blade rust keep it sharp for that killing thrust. Cos the anger inside is twisting your guts. Where in hell can you find an answer. What road did he take.

Was it fate or grace. Get outta my face. Where god tears great gaps he should be ashamed to revisit that place. Where he left his own son, broken.

On the road to god knows where..,