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Best Poems Written by John Puckett

Below are the all-time best John Puckett poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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A Wonderful Peace

A Wonderful Peace

There’s a wonderful peace in Jesus,
That the world in its clamour denies,
For its laughter and humour are hollow
When compared to this God-given prize.

Oh, I don’t mean you get it like wages,
Or earn it by running a race;
This peace is no prize in a lottery;
It comes just in Jesus by grace.

It’s nothing that I do to earn it –
He paid what it cost on the Cross –
I simply repent and believe him,
Let the world and its discord be loss.

There’s a wonderful peace in our Saviour
That the world on its own cannot find,
Till it looks for this peace in Jesus,
Since our heart for His peace is designed.

“He himself is our peace.”  Ephesians 2:14

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The Reason

The sun is sinking in the west
Since God decided that was best.

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The Steps of Time

Chill the north-east air
On the bravest cheek
Though the March sun sifts
Through the clouding sheet
As if winter fights
The advancing spring,
While the daffodils dance
In the darting breeze!

So sure the measured steps of time
Steal slow the strength of men,
And years at last
Must yield their power
To younger blood,
To generations yet to be,
Till they in turn grow old
On time's resistless wheel
Of life and death
And all would seem
A sequence meaningless
Of gain and loss,
Of hope, despair,
Of life, of death.

Yet by that dancing daffodil
God speaks a lesson pure,
Apparent death can spring again
And even winter's chill
Prepare the heart to find new life
In Christ.

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How can I tell you?

How can I tell you, Lord, 
That you seem far away 
And every time I start to pray 
You don’t seem to be there? 

How can I tell you, Lord, 
Sometimes I fear
You may be just a thought 
That my imagination 
Likes to feel is real 
When it is not?

How can I tell you, Lord, 
I don’t know how to pray, 
When others seem so sure, 
So certain and secure 
In their relationship with you?

How can I tell you, Lord, 
I feel so poor 
When others grow so large 
In their devotion year by year 
While I stay small?

How can I tell you, Lord, 
I feel so useless? 
What have I done for you?
I hear of others’ deeds 
And words and wonders 
Yet here it seems 
My days are passed 
In little profit to your cause.

How can I tell you, Lord? 
I’d like to go 
Right back 
Beginning once again 
And start the path afresh.

“My strength is made perfect in weakness.” 2 Corinthians 12:9

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I Saw You

I saw you
In the tender birth of a summer’s day
Emerge,
Fragile to a new life,
New freedom,
Feast delights of nectar
On the brambled cliffs.

I saw your fluttered dance of courtship
In the gladed woods
Above the Lyn.
Those crowded flights
Of summer’s quiet agitation
Fade one by one
To loneliness.

I saw those wings
That floated in the easy lightness of an August heat
Falter,
Chill-damped
In a late September mist
Above the bouldered shore.

I saw you
Weary of life once precious,
Hesitate along the edge of the western bay,
Your wings dip to the water’s gentle swell.
You rested brief
As though to rise again,
Gave in to weakness frail,
Surrendered to the ancient sea’s embracing wave,
Pale essence of those cycled ways,
I saw you die.


On holiday in North Devon, watching a tortoiseshell butterfly at Bucks’ Mill as it fluttered along the gentle shore.

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The Setting Sun

The setting sun 
Can eastward turn no more
Nor recent path retrace
To blaze again
Throughout some re-run day
Nor spring-fresh leaf 
Relive its glory
In autumn frost
Nor waning flower 
Remake its beauty pure
To live again
The splendour of its perfect hour.

And who of man
Can turn the clock of time
To tread once more
The ways of years gone by
To live again a moment gone
An hour
A day
A lifetime fixed beyond control. 

So help me, Lord
To live this moment
Just for you
	For all I have is now.

John Puckett

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Does It Matter?

Does it Matter?

Does it matter today
If a cross stood high
On a hill
Two thousand years ago?
Does it matter today
If there
A man hung dying
In company with criminals?

To most,
Long years have faded fact
To history books
To lie like fragile threads
In ancient tapestries,
A mingled pattern
Of some fertile tale
Construed to build a church
On empty gullibility.

Self-freed,
Our media age
Needs no such creed,
No faith,
No God to reckon with,
No concept of beyond
To analyse and capture
By some smart device.

Our media age,
Itself held captive
On those screens of imagery,
Projecting violence
On a fragile world,
Disfiguring,
Slow-motioning to death
In the focus of a godless dream.

But a vacant cross
Still stands,
Calling lost sinners
To a life in glory!

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Rain Drops

Plip! Plop!
Plip! Plop!
Rain drops
In puddle, pool, and pond.
When well spaced out
The drops can play
A pleasant rhythmic tune.

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Is There Hope

Is there hope when it’s hopeless?
Is there peace when it’s wild?
Is there love when I’m hated?
Is there joy when reviled?

Can I find what I’ve longed for?
Can I ever succeed?
Yes, most certainly, always, 
If to Jesus I plead!


“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who according to His abundant mercy has begotten us again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.” 1 Peter 1:3

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Zig-zag

Zig-zag, zig-zag, what’s coming next?
Just corners, twists and bumps, 
No glimpse, no signposted clear path,
Just loads of holes and humps.

Day after day, just up and down
And twisting round and round,
No indication anywhere
Of where the end is found.

So much of life zig-zags around
Surprising frights and fears,
Uncertainties, anxieties,
And even desperate tears.

But stop! Just look! A bright new light,
With path so plain displayed.
And there’s a sign, a lovely sign, 
So clear, ‘This is the Way!’

Jesus there is always waiting.
Yes, he alone’s the Way,
Troubles he turns to singing,
Transforms the worst of days! 

Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”  John 14:6.