Category Archives: understanding


(thought for the New Year)

And what profound statement
will you make now?
What statement
that will revolutionise
everyone’s life?

Is it a statement of

And will it be taken by all?
Will it penetrate their lives
To produce effects of
gigantean multiplicity?

To all – to all
I will say
this statement
is coming your way

But let’s be honest
You won’t all buy
No matter how much I try
The statement will
pass you by

Too many antibiotics
Immune you become

Immune to statements of
gigantean import

Unless you break a mind-set
and set your will
to swallow a
health giving pill

Tomorrow you will
continue as you were

For I propose you find it
contrary to your physical eye

My statement to glean?:

Look at the things that are unseen…

(II Corinthians 4/18)




Everywhere we look
Images present themselves
Like the discovery of clothes
The digital revolution has taken hold

Our new parchment caressed by cursor
Clicks us here en route to there
Images like accordions unwind
Millions become the new tens or twenties

Glut – image overload –
No choice given – just choice to turn away
Barbed-wire of all kinds getting in the road
Something new everyday to unfold

We make our way to what we want to see
To find it wasn’t what we thought it to be
Like the sea and it’s wave-roll
Against us it comes – beating us to succumb

More opinions than can be numbered
Communication wires-crossed
Spaghetti junction overload – of phrases
Headlines and cameras capture all of life

Nothing is left to the imagination
As the imagination has spewed all things seen
Images – like a gigantean archive to be sorted
We pick and choose and no longer are surprised

We can only find meaning and value
With discrimination’s guide
Taking one image at a time to behold
While still hanging some on our walls

Is it possible to come to the end of images?
Are schools of thought ever – redundant?
Do they reach an end to the road?
– Image overload

Acquired taste – might peruse the menu now
And find our seal of approval
As we separate the jigsaw pieces
To form – what means something – to view

Discriminate –
and find something worthwhile
As we take our eyes off the banal
And fix them on what is whole
Staying in control of this post-modern scroll.

Life by Paintings Measured


Life and it’s years
Measured by reflection
Recorded by another art work
Through choices of introspection

Forgotten or remembered dates
– written or not recorded dates –
signed pieces of spent time
scribbled on front or back –

Many escaped the cameras cache

Thus opening the door of surmise –
When – where – how – what – ?
Not sure and can’t remember

Marks of my own making
have gone out there
as fully-formed relatives of
heart and mind

Gone out there

There – under the sun – elsewhere
under the skies and ceilings of
other homes
Lost they are –
No tag upon the ankle
– hanging on the wall
Gone from me their first love.

I’ve lost you – children of mine

Who could you possibly
mean more to – than I…?

Time ticked by
as I remember time ticking by

Whilst I studied you – changed you –
added to your import

As I filed you – sold you –
alas – oft with regret

Gave you – itemised you –
folded you – ironed you –
cut you – framed you – forgot you
or got you back.

Gave you to – unworthy foster parents
who put you somewhere –
closed off out of sight in
chest or attic

Years gone by –
measured in spatters – washes
– and dry-brushed patterns all amok

Time recorded in
frantic marks – that scurried across
one hundred and forty pounds cold-pressed

Some stood/stand the test of time –
others – disqualified by those in a
daze of incomprehension

“I don’t know much about art…”
was the rubber stamp at the
custom’s gate of their minds

Still – can’t complain –
‘cause some will not let you go
a pillar of time you represent in
associated thought:

“My husband loved that painting of yours
I still have it – wouldn’t part with it”

Time – years – paintings gone
Out of sight – owned by others
– never to return

Many of them have worn well
Others heard man’s benediction
spoken over them:
“Time for a change –
remove her from the wall…”

What possible worth
can be found in these –
the inanimate?

And yet – thought is
art engrafted-on-paper
and thought is Still Life
revealing – there is still life

Inanimate perhaps
but what stories they tell –

Vincent did well know
His paintings oft rejected –
before he had to go

No artist can measure his years
except by Retrospectives

He alone was at the secret birth
of images coming out
delivered to the picture plane

Years measured by paintings
All unique –
Dark and sombre or all aglow

Years measured by paintings
This will have to do
to document a life

On these – man places worth
If enough will say – it should be so

Years measured by paintings
A raft of scattered years
Recorded in line and colour
and form and tone by what appears

I wonder at them all
Categorised with equality
If rejected by the Salon
It doesn’t matter to me

Years measured by paintings
I have quite a few
still wanting to leave home
to make their way to you



An unsolicited opinion
Comes staccato’d out

Laid-back hearers are not
disturbed from slumber

While a leg is placed parallel
to another
upon the adjacent chair

Some kind of snorted hybrid
of groggy-headed sleep
and grunted acknowledgement
of what has been spoken
adds a full point to the utterance

But nothing else stirs
Deadly silence
The stated opinion fades
making no impact of any kind

Then suddenly another fills the air
It is a response
And is another opinion
antithetical to the one just offered

Again the deadly silence
No snort this time
All six in the room
just leave it there…
let’s leave it like that…
nothing more to say…

no corporate manifesto
to embrace
opinions come and
opinions go…



New Blog



Hesitantly I invite you to visit my new blog.
I say hesitantly for purely technical reasons. Because of the technical knowledge de-motivation mode that I’m usually in (ie knowledge as a result of necessity, rather than ‘Yippee! lets set up a blog’ – standpoint, if you get my gist?).

I haven’t worked out the technical side, in other words.

As in e.g. where did the ‘Page’ I just set up go to!?

I’m pretty sure there are a myriad of things I am not doing to ‘spread’ either of my two blogs to a wider audience – but I try to engage in life outside of blogging, so I’m afraid I’m relaxed over who (i.e. numbers) reads ‘seeds…’ or this new blog.

Anyway –
Posts are appearing, and that’s the main thing.

The Blog is named: ‘The Bible Returns’, and the other Christian name that my parents gave me (which I’m not too keen on) refers to yours truly (Ken) as Douglas.

Those at all familiar among the 3 hundred and something (I haven’t looked at statistics for months) – followers – will know I speak of ‘different hats’ that I wear. My Preacher hat is
donned almost exclusively now at ‘The Bible Returns’.

The Blog is primarily Bible Teaching for Christians but not exclusively.
So feel free to have a look.

Have a good day – have a day of Revelation.

Strength for the day

Strength for the day

When you begin the journey of your day
Do you stop to think in any way?
“Pause for thought” as they say
Prayer is free – no need to pay
Before you face the crowd’s sway
Let your yea be yea and your nay be nay
You will be challenged in the fray
Misunderstood on life’s speedway
But ask for God’s strength – that’s okay
Jesus won’t let you down Sunday to Saturday




He walked – head down
Staring at the ground

Watching the grasses below his feet
bending backwards and then
springing back to life
as he looked back at his trodden path

He moved on through the undergrowth
Expecting to reach his destination at
any moment
He had not been that way before

Then he awoke and had his breakfast
It had been a dream – or so it did seem

He had not been that way before
Then he awoke and had his breakfast
After the dream about awaking and having his breakfast

It had been a dream about having a dream
– or so it did seem…

Job well done – will do


Nobody’s that great
That they keep rushing back for more
More of your song – your voice – your genius
Your up in the clouds of praise
Then down in the ditch of despair
Genuine praise is always only a percentage
Take large numbers and subtract
Conclude that the small – very few
Will stick with you
For you are the grand old Duke of York
When you are up in their estimation
You are up
When you are down you are down
Best not to rise dependant on their degree
Best to rise in what you be
As you satisfy your jury of one
And hear your own – well done.


Three Became One


“How do I look?”
We cared with youthful vanity
back in the day.
Setting ourselves on display

But all of this
was longing
for acceptance
in mutual admiration society

The connections were made
That lasted and didn’t last

We grasped at life
Clinging and letting go
With equal intensity

But it was all of youth’s
interminable searching
for a soul mate
while the inner-inner man
lay dormant
starved of the true reality

A Messiah is coming
Three parts full
Vacuum gone

I fell into the water that was Living
Buoyant in spiritual love
Lovely word – redeemed
Maturing quickly and gradually
at the same time

With and in
the ups and downs
of life
– of all lives

But sustained throughout
and from then on
I was – borne up
on wings of eagles

Splendid things to come

Two become one
He governs me
with humility

Then she came
and three become one
in holy matrimony






Stray Day


A stray day
One that got off the schedule

Suddenly at a stand still
Programmed brain interrupted

Look at his hands in his pockets
A forlorn look upon his face
Lost – he is
Doesn’t know what to do
with himself

He isn’t used to his engine
being turned off

He looks for the return
of the trapeze
so he can act
and launch himself
into the next task

A day gone adrift
An unwritten day
A day disjointed from
the scheme of things

Here he stands
a man
that can’t be still

‘Be still and know that I am God’
Psalm 46/10


Writing a Song


A couple of times
He couldn’t make it rhyme
So he boogied the riff
And paused – to flick his quiff

He couldn’t make it work
So considered himself ‘a jerk’
‘Call yourself a musician?’
He mused – in recognition
Of his bad hair day
And his condition – of dismay

He thought: ‘I will try later’
Sliding from his chair like an alligator
No sooner away from the deck
and the thoughts came flooding back

Try it this way – try it that
‘C’mon man – is this all you’ve got?’
Suddenly it came to mind
As he set himself to unwind:
‘I will write the song as though
I can never have another go’

And rising to his own challenge
He at last found he could manage
A song – simple but true
It came out ‘riffy’ and blue

He smiled and marvelled at
The difference the heart’s new format
– Could make – when it came to lyrics of poetry or prose
Now – written without difficulty – I suppose?