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Neil Alexander Poem
A sweet scented aroma.
‘’Actions speak loader than words’’ they say.
So it is!, look to our Faith!
He looks at our hearts.
No matter what we see, suggesting,
Honourable worship & praise,
If Spirits; His & ours un-synced,
Is what we do real?
Words speak to us as we sing, ,
& drive out poisonous weeds.
God loves a sacrifice of praise.
Our empty hands declare,
Willing prisoners ‘Surrendered’;
His, to know our heart,
As we hold on for in-put.
The loss of ‘Self’; as Christ.
He uses to unbind others with,
Sweet perfumed news,
Proclaims the glory of His name.
Practice makes perfect?
As we can if we go against,
The flow we see as ‘sane or normal’
Feb 2017
Copyright © Neil Alexander | Year Posted 2017
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Neil Alexander Poem
Xiou Xue
‘Little Snow’ her story. ( my son's family 'home helper)
Ma wars, with earth to conjure a meal, Made in a kitchen which all pests have vacated.
Weariness blinkered, Pa contends, In a haze for contentment, in tobacco & drink.
A vision become probable, neon signs wink to her, Negative gains still seem to offer fulfilment of dreams.
Desolate in the dark room, prospects evaporate. Scenes of homely environments bridge bitter memories.
Jesus answers, She phones, They touch, Tobacco fades, Hopes rise, Christ lives.
Beijing Hutongs.
(Old alleys & narrow streets.)
Grey dust over all the piles of food waste, Snow Bikes & barrows. No flies no smell!
Wind chills’ no deterrent to sellers or window gazers. The tourist shivers alienated by culture.
Shoes happily shinned, smiles warm. The barterers laugh. Do half-hidden homes reflect the same?
Copyright © Neil Alexander | Year Posted 2017
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Neil Alexander Poem
‘Its good here aint it’ or ‘Are we there yet’. Of 2016
Chugging along, keeping to the plan. Who could de-rail us? Are we not united? Are we not complacent? Do we welcome challenge? Or are we dying slowly?
New places to visit, New things to learn, New answers to questions, We may want to hear, Is the driver still with us? The more to reveal.
When will we get there? When He decrees.
Meantime we’re waiting. Down on our knees. Which line to follow? Which way to go? Will He stay with us? Surely you know??
Copyright © Neil Alexander | Year Posted 2017
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Neil Alexander Poem
Known before time.
One big story.
A studious thinker.
Shaped for purpose,
With a valid C.V.,
Government sealed.
A Banjamite Turk,
Sharpened for subjection.
Approved a stoning.
A religious enforcer,
Blinded for construction,
Knowing who let it.
Saved, feared, then trusted.
A verbally adept writer,
Commissioned to carry hope,
Called, to open eyes.
Strengthen through adversity,
Buffeted, barred, bitten.
Character modeller ,
Signposting others,
Sharing from his heart.
An example of us,
Who follow, one of many,
Each telling his story.
Each knowing on which Rock we stand.
Acts 9:15, 13:2-3, 23:11, 27:35, 47. 1Cor. 2:1.
Copyright © Neil Alexander | Year Posted 2017
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Neil Alexander Poem
''Not that time & day again''
Ah! Home comforts, cosy, warm. A familiar Rink awaits the bustle, Of fun & excitement.
Atmosphere’s chilled, the music’s loud, Girls jump & twirl. Urged men, to the Race.
Shoulder’s hunch. Knees bend, Blades hiss, Over rumpled ice.
Reconstruction preformed, Surface scraped & brushed. Warmed hearts pump. Shoes replace boots.
The session fades while, Feet ache. Tea's made.
Copyright © Neil Alexander | Year Posted 2017
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Neil Alexander Poem
Seeing those Images, Hidden from other's eyes. Or,
Is it a poet's destiny, to retire into their head?
Seeking relevance in thoughts that move the hand,
Drawn by compulsion to react to evolving life.
Their psyche's revealed by ink marks
Copyright © Neil Alexander | Year Posted 2017
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Neil Alexander Poem
The art of the critic, WHY? Not knowing will guess, At what lies behind, The image when the, Artist knows not either.
Was it by Elephant, monkey, An insane, a joker’s mind? Who given paint, crayon, Or charcoal daubed or, Tried to clarify, The blank sheet of Life.
Surely Picasso laughed, When folk bought, Into daubs on envelopes, Napkins or scraps worth, K’s, Unimaginable; does he still giggle?
Those who scratch or draw, May cringe or bleed at, Such miss-placed scribbling s,
Copyright © Neil Alexander | Year Posted 2017
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Neil Alexander Poem
Christ has set us free to live a free life.
Spirit freed by the sculptor. Realising,
All needs met, speaking, thinking,
To fully appreciate the LIFE He gives,
& truth, the Key, to free Our family.
From Egypt they left gifted.
What do I have to give? but my ‘’Self’’,
My stumbling block. I’m freed to be,
As called, related, friend,
To go, to come, to serve, to stay.
Guilt freed to be whole, complete.
& See through the H/S’s eyes.
‘Bonded’ slave for ‘’peace of mind’’
To a trustee, just-judge & saviour,
From! being chained & tainted by the evil one
So entrapped like Adam & Eve.
Don’t just look back, don’t just stand there; act.
Jn.8:32. Deu. 15:16-17. Leviticus 25:39-43.
Copyright © Neil Alexander | Year Posted 2017
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Neil Alexander Poem
View from the Balcony.
‘China sound bites.’
‘’Honk, Honk’, nudge, nudge’’ The city says , as dust settles behind the wheels of the many transporters. The westerner learns the ebb& flow, to their credit, & moves to counter the moment of impact.
At our gate the guard smiles, as he continues his shift, from dawn to dark it seems. The uniform pleases him & secures our peace.
Serenity in the early days, physical exercise brings a smile, To those who have no time or tradition to comply. Envy!!
The train dislikes his night time duties, And tells All ,who strain to sleep. AWAKE!! AWAKE!! He cries.
Copyright © Neil Alexander | Year Posted 2017
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Neil Alexander Poem
A blanket of warmth cossets us with calm. The grey of sky & sea melts & meets, Screening the shingled scene as anticipation rises, Eyes strain, expectation fades
Berry stained hands hold the-cups-that-cheer, As we await a revealed curtain raiser, That declares the reality of time & space.
Two lighted ships, bulks unseen glow to confirm Life lives. In the void the power station, Back-lights, the Eastern edges of the stage.
Surely, we’re not abandoning such an emotive ‘play’ for homes! As a once in a lifetime promised Indian summer’s come true.
(Memories of Pett Level. Sept. 2016.)
Copyright © Neil Alexander | Year Posted 2017
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