Long Watchman Poems
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When I Experienced China I understood why
The Lord gave Watchman Nee such a powerful ministry!
Discovering the Chinese culture, I can understand
The reason behind the Lord’s decision!
I wrote several poems in China while
Understanding calligraphy—
Each stroke carried a unique purpose!
Love filtered in my life as I prayed in China
I saw the Lord’s hand more and more!
As I walked through Jiangsu with
The weight and knowledge of Watchman Nee
I saw love so pure for a foreign people
It brought me to my knees
“God has supplied all my needs and
Has not failed me once”
Now I am walking through China celebrating His Name
Floating around
I set up three memorials in China
In honour of Watchman Nee
Mark Frank
Copyright 2019
Silvers strands line her hair like salt in an aquamarine ocean
Wrinkles shine in ripples on the quiet foreshore of hindsight
She dyed her hair blue today because she can
The engine still roars when she puts her walking stick aside
Mounts the quad bike and sails through the isles in the shop
A keeper of memories she sounds out her youth
Joints crackle the tune while she dances in rhythm and rhyme
Sings aloud from a mind set alight to a chorus of an angel
She never consulted for divine intervention
Close to the checkout the tattoo on her belly wriggles and chimes
A lip ring as long as a tear drop from heaven tickles her fancy
Firmly lodged in faith compassion and love
At the exit a watchman guards safe passage and kindness
And wonders what pills she is on to proceed with such joy
An unredeemable survivor of a rebellious soul
They call her a basket case but her crazy insanity keeps her together
Purple mascara and face paint are waiting for a final farewell
Just for today she will colour the shadows of her rainbow
04th June 2019
A Contest of Ageing
Sponsor Emile Pinet
And I'm concerned, afraid, got the railroad crossing blues and the jazz that plays so low and desolation looms like the ghost of Christmas past/ And the band wraps up and it's time to go home but the blues is still crawling around inside my head like desolation and the lone watchman/on the peak is scrawling poems like rattlesnakes' bites/ And the blues plays low and sweet and melancholy/While the train whistle sounds so lonely in the deep night/ and this is what I do the jazz the blues drenched in sweat and staggering in the lonely night/ This is an intro into my world, my poems, my sound, culminating in a book called Beat, writings & Ramblings published by book fuel and on sale at amazon/ end of plug/ Late in the evening and thinking of Kerouac and Ginsberg
and wondering where I fit in/ but the train don't run here no more no more, the train don't run here no more/ The jazz played on and on and we partied and smoked and never looked back but that was yesterday and today I type and set loose words upon a page that no-one will read but the b-bop cats and jive masters/ always wondered what happens when you get to the bottom of this page/ be-bop be-bop and the forgotten words meshed into something altogether
different/ This is who I am
It springs like rain on mown grass
Winds murmur over quiet pines
No hoofbeats of horseman lost
No limpid water from deep springs
oasis lift from arid sand.
Barbarian rides past towers without watchman
Deep thunder in mountain thrown up
Footprints of the darkness
stone like starkness
Harrowing & unhalting.
Grand inquisitor, earth's jailhouser
coverned deep and iron ringed
submerged in auto-cage of steal
Far from end and near to nowhere
lifting our heads to the light of God:
Spare my family and friends, thou great
keeper of souls
In its direness and darkness
footprints of light, our bodies taken,
our self retaken,
wastelands of ruins heaped with ash
mea culpa, mea culpa
Juliet’s wondrous lover, Romeo*
serves as an epitome of a perfect husband, more than a beau---
oh, may he resurrect and multiply to fill the demand of an ideal spouse
prayed for by every lady needing a father in a godly home-fortressed house**.
*Shakespeare’s protagonist in his play, Romeo and Juliet
**Psalm 127:1 Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it: except the Lord keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain.
January 6, 2026
3rd place, "A Literary Character Clerihew" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Andrea Dietrich; judged on 1/13/2026
The house grows still as day begins to fade,
Drowning in pools of long and dusky shade.
I keep my vigil while the embers die,
A patient shadow under twilight’s eye,
Waiting until the bruised, receding light
Surrenders to the majesty of night.
Down through the hall I tread a quiet track,
A thick, heavy blanket on my back,
Woven for warmth, soft wool of amber grain,
To navigate this grassy, cool domain.
I carry it into the backyard air,
Where dusk has set its cool and misty snare,
And spread its gentle weight across the lawn,
A tether till the coming of the dawn.
I stretch out flat upon the cushioned yard,
With the cool covered earth, soft, but hard.
The lawn becomes an ocean, shadow-deep,
Where daytime memories lay down to sleep,
And high above, the night opened wide
Into a reverse abyss, on my blanket I ride.
Then comes the spark, the silent, blinding bloom:
Silver pinpricks piercing through the gloom.
Ancient fires, suspended in the frost,
Whisper forgotten secrets to the lost.
Among the motionless and timeless spheres,
A fleet of modern iron astrolabe appears.
Satellites, like ghost-ships forged of glass,
Tacking through vacuum currents as they pass.
And other phantoms dance across the dome:
Erratics, tumbling through their stellar home,
Motes of cosmic dust that glance and skip,
Fireflies that break the dark, then slip.
A streak of chalk across a slate of night,
A sudden flash, a ricochet of light,
Bouncing like polished stones on polished glass
Before they fade and into shadow pass.
Anchorless, I float upon my raft,
Swept up in midnight’s quiet, dizzying craft,
A solitary watchman of the deep,
While all the world below lies fast asleep.
…. all the world below lies fast asleep.
Part 2.
Into the wasteland he flies
To bury the souls of lies,
Beneath the leaves of time,
Dirty deeds must dirty die.
This then the watchman must do:
Step on the fingers that try,
With downward pulls to pry,
Into doom flower faces,
These flowers must not die.
--
The conquistador arrived.
He gazed at the unscathed bounty standing
Respect-less before him and squinted.
Surveying the laughing land,
He made up his mind with astute rat-like grace
And thrust with self-satisfied lust his mighty sword into the sand.
God’s word thus bespoken he listened, breathlessly.
The jungle though could not understand
Tectetan, tectetan, tectetan
Nor chose to hear or fear
This little man,
Oh thou little man, thou little man
What is your plan,
Little man?
The jungle laughed, unbothered
Unmoved it ignored
Untouched it continued
Unfettered it roared
With sparkling green verdant song to sing,
It sang.
The conquistador fumed
Scarlet red
Vino roja bottled fumes
Of smoky rage
Stomping he retorted
Thou art doomed
Veni Vidi Vici he screamed
Satisfied, mesmerized
With scroll in hand he did announce
All that is yours is mine
It says so in this paper
The King has made it divine
Mine Mine and only Mine
Did he but announce
Without a golden ounce
Of irony’s feathered face
Whose trace,
With obsidian plans to erase
Surely soon he would get to know.
Breathlessly he stood once again, the conquistador did
Assuming
The noise, ploys and feathery joys
Of the jungle toys he heard
Marked abdications hour
At work already
At hand
To make this land
His.
Impatient
Making up his mind
Marching straightforwardly
Towards the eye of the jungle
Sacking with gaze the mighty maze
Of spider green vines hiding before him
The craze of ores whose mint would course the earth
Soon to raise his rank to that of Jerusalem’s teutonic bearded men
He was surprised when he saw
Three sets of steely indian eyes
Peering through the jungle wall
And the flying hatchet hit him hard and true
And for all we knew he never came back again
“Ecab cotoch”
Woodsman on a prowl
Sneaking around like an owl
Noticing innocents getting a fright
Watchman you are a good knight
Defending partiers in a plight
Battling a monster in a murderous fight
Erich you guarded them all
Despite the rainfall
Where thunder clapped
Lightning snapped
Spotlighting your heroic stage
Heralded by the girls maturing in age
Until your deadly scripted page
As we reflect surrounded by campfire mist
Who should be on the angelic list
Mr. Anderson may not have received Brad Clooney fame
But we knew your look maybe not name
Reminded the rat was Ben
While the chopping mall no longer needed Ken
RIP mechanical hiking buddy
Protecting those from evil not really funny
Make it sunny
Heavens will be brighter
Since you are now a soulful fighter
We all down here
Are in it for the scream and cheer
Toasting Rob Dier
With a corkscrew and beer
London bridge has fallen
The queen of England has lost her crown
London bridge has fallen
The queen of England has lost her crown
No more watchman on the wall
And Humpty Dumpty done hit the ground
.
The river Rhine is running backwards
Flowers won't bloom in midday sun
The river Rhine is running backwards
Flowers won't bloom in midday sun
The ground is dead and the seed won't grow
And I can't stand and I can't run
.
It's pitch black dark in New York City
And east won't release the rising of the sun
It's pitch black dark in New York City
And east won't release the rising of the sun
Lacuna beach waits patiently
But that light don't ever come
.
My heart's as cold as winter midnight
Spirit dry, as desert sand
My heart's as cold as winter midnight
Spirit dry, as desert sand
Mind lost at sea and body sinking
Not even Jesus would hold my hand
China has many that believe in Jesus
Some are underground and move
Around by the leading of the Holy Spirit
In the past the Lord called Watchman Nee
And as a result many after him
Fell to their knees and praised God but today
China has committed a diabolical error
By rewriting the Bible and
Trying to make Jesus a murderer
The terror will be seen in their land!
God’s promises are real and revelations
Will transform the land
Jesus cannot be stopped in China
He will save many Chinese individuals
China has many that believe in Jesus
Some are underground and move
Around by the leading of the Holy Spirit
Revelation 22: 18-19
18 I warn everyone who hears the words of the prophecy of this book: if anyone adds to them, God will add to him the plagues described in this book, 19 and if anyone takes away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God will take away his share in the tree of life and in the holy city, which are described in this book.