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John Hanscomb Poem
They will not be disappointed
That dream of paradise on high
So sure of heaven above
When they die
But if there is no heaven
No second life to come
They will not care
They cannot care
There is no care
They will be gone
A rotting husk
Some scattered dust
Some whitening bones
Either way, they will not be disappointed when they die.
But if they’re resurrected
To sit in heaven’s light
For ever and eternity
In gowns of purest white
Surrounded by God’s love
Playing harps
Will they be bored?
After a billion or two years?
How will they be –
The friends and family
They hope to see again?
Demented brains renewed?
Will unformed babes still mew?
They may be disappointed when they die.
Will spirit die with brain?
The software of that computer
The files we call the soul
Crumbling into mush
With the hardware
Hard disk wiped clean
For ever?
Nothing left
Nothing there to care
Completely gone
Just a rotting husk
Some scattered dust
Some whitening bones
Either way, they will not be disappointed when they die.
Churches promise heavenly life
For your immortal soul
They say on “God’s authority”
But who has seen his signature
Upon a legal scroll?
Its easy to give promises
When proof is not required
No one’s come back to say “Its true!
There’s glory here for me and you!”
Or -- “NO! - I’m nothing now at all
Just a rotting husk
Some scattered of dust
Some whitening bones”
Either way, they will not be disappointed when they die.
Copyright © John Hanscomb | Year Posted 2018
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John Hanscomb Poem
Ode to a Classic Car
Jesus wants me for a Sunbeam
And a very fine Sunbeam I’d make
He’s invited me
For a nice cup of tea
And a slice of his cherry-mint cake
So Jesus wants me for a Sunbeam
And a Sunbeam’s a very nice car
But if I had my choice
I would be a Rolls Royce
A much more grand motor by far.
But Jesus wants me for a Sunbeam
So I take a last sip at my tea
If Jesus wants me for a Sunbeam
Then like it or not
I’ll give it a shot
And a Sunbeam is what I will be!
Copyright © John Hanscomb | Year Posted 2020
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John Hanscomb Poem
If
If you can take a Bible
Open the cover wide
Take a scoop and swallow whole
Everything inside
Hook line and sinker.
Now climb into the hole you’ve made
And shut the cover tight
Be comfortable and close your mind
To shut out any light
That threatens from outside
Refuse to be a thinker
Outside the Holy Words
See not the world around you
The prayers that go ignored
The children 'He' lets suffer
The pains of life and death
Assure Him He is wonderful
And never hold your breath
For a reply,
You will be a man (of sorts) my son.
But
If you can help your neighbours
(If you love them or you don’t)
Give a hand to those in need
And never ask for thanks
Expect no praises or reward
On Earth or up on high
From some unlikely heavenly ‘Lord’
For praise hyperbole
Given to ‘Him’
You will be a (real) man my son
Copyright © John Hanscomb | Year Posted 2018
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John Hanscomb Poem
We’ve had enough of traveling.
We’ve had enough of travelling
At least by sea and air
The noisy ferry cabins
The crush of Ryanair
Maybe we’ll drive a hundred ‘k’
To hotel or ‘B&B’
For forest or a city break
(For we live close by the sea)
We’ve seen a little of the world
Though far less than our kids
And their kids will see more than them
For that’s the way life is
With gammy legs and short on hair
Now being home is best
Our own things all around us
Our own bed for a rest
We’ll lunch in our conservatory
Gaze out across the fields
Ignoring bumph from Thomas Cook
And all those special ‘deals’
The sparrows on the bird-bath
The neighbours calling by
A friendly chat, a glass of wine
Without a reason why
No, we’ll go no more a-travelling.
At least by sea and air
We’ll watch the world on our big teevee
From the comfort of our chair
John Hanscomb, 2018
Copyright © John Hanscomb | Year Posted 2018
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