Tag: poem

A Conversation Outside the Charles Elliot Fox Library at Kohimarama

Another poem inspired by my recent visit to the Anglican Church of Melanesia. This is based on a conversation I had with a student at the Bishop Patteson Theological College outside their college library.

“The birds around here speak sometimes”, he said,
“the smallish brown ones with the yellow eyes.
You have to pay attention though, they spread
their mottled wings, glance back, say their goodbyes
and then before you know it they have gone,
packed up their conversation and moved on.”

“We used to have a bishop here,” he said,
“who was well known for talking to the birds
and other creatures.  Once the rats all fled
from the cassava patch at just a word
from Bishop Fox.  His grave is over there.
It’s said the birds still join with him in prayer.”

I tried to pay attention like he said,
but though I watched and listened for a week,
I talked to them, sang songs, and shared my bread,
I never once did hear the Myna speak.
Beside the Charles Fox library, filled with words,
I sit in silence, praying with the birds.

(c) Rich Clarkson, 2025

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Vulnerable

I visited the Anglican Church of Melanesia this September, in part to see first hand the impacts of Climate Change in the Pacific. I was struck by how tangible those impacts are and the real sense of vulnerability in these island nations. However I was also struck by the sense that though these islands may be vulnerable, they are not powerless. I wrote this poem to express some of that.

There is a vulnerability in these
small Islands where the challenges they face
are mostly not of their own making.  Seas
are rising, trees are being felled, the race
for land and for development is fierce –
their magnitude could flood the roads with tears.
But vulnerable does not mean powerless.
Developing does not mean uninformed.
These islands, villages, and towns are getting
ready now to face the gathering storm.
Stone by stone, day by day, resisting
those forces that would stop them from existing.
Here, where land and sea are in a battle aeons long,
a fragile hope against all odds has always been their song.

(c) Rich Clarkson 2025

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Parallels

I visited the Anglican Church of Melanesia this September, and while there were a lot of differences between life there and in England, I wrote this poem reflecting on some of the similarities

A mother anxiously comforts her baby
An old man groans as he sits on a chair
Children giggle as they enter the classroom
People are people everywhere

Schools that don’t have enough equipment
Farms that struggle for lack of rain
Big corporations that do what they want to
Ten thousand miles, and still the same

Birds sing out as the sun is rising
Stars shine brightly through gaps in the clouds
A cool breeze blows through an open window
At home or away these blessings are found

A helping hand from a kindly stranger
A wordless grin in a crowded hall
A moment of laughter that transcends language
The world is not so big after all

(c) Rich Clarkson 2025

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Umbilical Tree

I visited the Anglican Church of Melanesia this September and as part of the visit I spoke to the students at the Bishop Patteson Theological College at Kohimarama. This is a poetic description of part of that deeply moving conversation.

I
There is a small Pacific Island where
when a child is born they cut the cord
and plant it in the ground with a new tree
so that, however far away they sail,
they will forever be linked with their home.

II
I met a man today, a priest, who knows
the place where his umbilical tree is growing.
It is a source of life and strength to him,
a tangible connection to the earth,
to God’s creation, to his ancestral home.

III
That cord was severed many years before,
but now he fears it will be cut again
and this time he’s not sure if he’ll survive
the separation from his source of life.

IV
His island home is being washed away
and with it goes a part of who he is,
while we sit by and watch – or worse, do not.
We are presiding over his destruction.

V
I looked him in the eye then turned away
in sorrow and in shame for what we’ve done,
yet still he greeted me as his own brother,
a fellow child of God and, trembling, I
returned his gaze once more and said “I’m sorry
for all that we have done to you my friend”.

VI
Our actions or complacency are not
without their consequences in this world
but every day we have to make the choice:
Do we give life and seek forgiveness, or
do we keep cutting that life-giving cord?

(c) Rich Clarkson 2025

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Stars

New Song: Stars
This was inspired by a line from Shakespeare that goes
“At first I did adore a twinkling star
But now I worship a celestial sun”

Once I loved a star so distant in the sky
Delicate and far away, so far away that I
Could never reach her
I lost my heart to some celestial creature

Once I loved a bird so high up in the air
Never was a word between us ever really shared
But I could hear her
I lost my heart just trying to get near her

Once I loved a star, a bird, an ocean and a flower
The wonders of the universe so far beyond my power
They stole my heart and kept it safe
until the day when she would give it back to me
Well I wasn’t ready then but now I am and now I know
That reaching out in love is how our hearts begin to grow
And somewhere in the waiting and the wondering
Love will come to you

Once I loved the sea so bountiful and deep
Vast and wild and free I could not ever truly keep
Her or her treasure
I lost my heart in depths I could not measure

Once I loved a flower blooming in a field
I gazed at her for hours but her secrets remained sealed
I could know know her
I lost my heart endeavouring to grow her

Chorus

Once I loved a girl so beautiful and fair
Her voice was like a bird and she had flowers in her hair
Her eyes were starlight
She swept me off my feet like waves at twilight

Now I love a star, a bird, an ocean and a flower
The wonders of the universe so far beyond my power
She stole my heart and kept it safe
until the day when she will give it back to me
Well I wasn’t ready then but now I am and now I know
That reaching out in love is how our hearts begin to grow
And one day when the stars align and constellations roar
And the ocean breakers lay their treasures gently on the shore
And the flowers bloom and bird song rises sweeter than before
Love will come to you

(c) 2025 Rich Clarkson

Photo by NASA Hubble Space Telescope on Unsplash

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After Wordsworth

Picture of a yellow daffodil with a blurred background

This was written for the Daffodil Days weekend at St Peter’s, Kinver

I wait, as patient as the laden clouds
that drift on by towards the distant hills.
They journey high above the furrowed brow
of fresh ploughed field, bearing their burden still.
I wait, as patient as the quiet grass
that, clinging tightly to the hardening earth,
longs for the star-chilled wintertime to pass
and all the warming sun may bring to birth.
I wait, as patient as the ancient stones
now settled gently in this once strange land.
though filled with rage a thousand storms have blown
they – weathered, prayer-soaked, resolute – still stand.
I wait, patience rewarded with the thrill
of seeing Spring bring forth a host of golden daffodils.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

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I Watched The Road

I sat and, for a while, I watched the road.
I watched the squirrel with the ragged tail
make her daily rounds in search of treasure.
I watched the pheasant, that fine fellow, stalking
puffed up as he crossed the pinstriped lawn.
I watched the crows, those jesters of the air,
make mockery of wind’s attempts to throw them
from almost imperceptibly fine perches.
I watched the pigeons fail to be like crows.
I watched the laden clouds drift slowly by,
looking for a better place to land.
I watched my squirrel friend leap gracefully
from ash to beech to chestnut. Then at last
I watched a car pass by. Once they were common,
their rumbling song would filter through the trees,
a flash of colour glinting in the sun.
But now, like other species under threat,
their absence leaves it’s mark on eye and ear.
And as I sat and watched, the space they left
was filled by squirrel, pheasant, cloud and crow.
I think I like this new view of the road.

© Rich Clarkson 2020

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White Church

Entered in the Worldwide Whitchurch Weekend Acrostic Poetry Competition 2017

White church, which once stood high atop the hill
Holding holy vigil o’er the town
In ages past your faith stood firm until
The night your weathered walls came crashing down
Contained beneath that rubble lay untallied
Hopes and fears and prayers of those long gone
Undaunted by the task our forebears rallied
Rebuilding what was lost and moving on
Come now and see the town which bears your name
Held firm in faith and friendship once again

(c) Rich Clarkson 2017

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Bible Memory Poem III (The Church)

Jesus said to his friends “you must go on without me
but I’ll give you my Spirit, tell everyone about me”
so his friends got together and shared everything
and thousands of people said “Jesus is king!”
They baptised them in water like Jesus had said
and each week remembered him in wine and bread
They prayed to God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit
and spoke about Jesus to anyone who’d hear it
As time went by many saints followed God’s call
their actions and writings encourage us all
Now all round the world Christians share, pray and sing
because Jesus, our God, is our friend and our king

(c) Rich Clarkson 2017

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Revolution

There’s a revolution threatening
Hanging heavy in the air
Everybody’s planning, scheming, dreaming,
Hoping if they dare
For a better world, a better life
The seeds of revolution
Have been sown as we begin to write
Our new years resolutions.
This year will be different,
Surely this year we’ll remember
Keep on going, growing, keep it up
Right through to next December
But before long we’ve forgotten
And the fire fades away
Until the only revolution
Is the earth revolving quietly
At the start of each new day.

(c) Rich Clarkson 2011

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