Transform - A song

The Spirit of The Lord was upon him To bring the good news to the poor, Humbly he took on the servants burden To lift our broken flesh from the floor.
God and flesh without a contradiction Holy Spirit heal this divide, Let us live out the incarnation To be the body where Christ does reside.
Transform our hearts, Transform our hands, To transform.
The Spirit of The Lord was upon him To set all the captives free, He followed a life of love to its conclusion When hatred nailed him firmly to a tree.
God and suffering without a contradiction Holy Spirit comfort while we hide, Help us to take on the crucifixion To be the body where Christ does reside.
Transform our hearts, Transform our hands, To transform.
The Spirit of the sovereign was upon him To declare the favour of The Lord, He shattered every paradigm we made for him When with utter life he over came the sword.
Deathless life without a contradiction Holy Spirit rouse these dry bones, Help us to live lives of resurrection To be be the body where Christ is at hom…

For Sam Baker

In perfect poems, He honours the forgotten And shines his light on Whispered honour. His broken fingers pick out a pretty world And the pain is beauty, Within and inseparable. How painful, and how beautiful are these day. My very soul is sweetly undone Before the dispersed family  Of his songs.

I wrote this poem on September 3rd 2020 While listening to the album 'Pretty World' by Sam Baker. The lines 'broken fingers', 'pretty world' and 'sweetly undone' found in the poem are all track titles, and the line 'how beautiful are these days' is written on the inside cover of the album.

My brother (and guitarist of The Sewer Cats) bought me this album for Christmas ten or eleven years ago. Since then I've listened to it, and Sam Bakers other albums, innumerable times. Sam Baker is a unique and breathtaking artist for so many reasons. His songs demonstrate a rare depth of understanding for the human condition and uncover a beauty in places or people who might n…

Announcement: Across The Margin

I’m really pleased to announce that 3 of my poems have been published in the brilliant and very popular online journal ‘Across the Margin.’
‘Across the Margin’ publish art, poetry, fiction, essays, political pieces, and they also have a great podcast. It’s an important journal not shying away from contentious issues but adding to discussions with well thought out pieces, good humour and, above all, a love of great writing. Check out the diverse journal here.I'm very humbled to have my poetry included alongside some outstanding and very important writers. For example, only a week before I was there featured poet, they published three heartfelt poems by Philip Shabazz whose work incredibly moving and challenging. Check them out here.My three poems although written in different contexts are linked by how they engage with the motion of time, and invite you to intimately apprehend its uneven passage. ‘Legacy’ which was inspired by the books on my parent’s bookshelves and the stories the…

Announcement: Beyond Words Literary Magazine, plus a word on 'Home' & homelessness.

I am very proud to announce that my poem 'Home' has been published In the June 2020 Issue of Beyond Words Literary Magazine. Beyond Words is an international online journal of contemporary creative writing, photography and art. The edition is jammed full of beautiful art and photography, and deeply inspiring creative writing. Click here to purchase access to a digital copy. To order print copies click here and scroll to the bottom of the home page.
My poem 'Home' is inspired by both my experiences working with the homeless and recently moving homes. I try to explore the nuances of the meanings of the word home, which is more than a physical place (a house, flat, tent etc.) but, at the same time, is very importantly such a physical place. We can romantically say to our partner 'you're my home!' with a certain poetic truth, but it is an insufficient concept of home. We need a place in which we are home. I can't be my wife's home if we have no place to …

Day 8 or 9

Confinement, A melting pot reaching boiling point. Neighbour's needs clash,  Irritations become sparks. Tiny kingdoms close in on their kings, Yet tiny kindnesses shatter walls. Cold weather confines further And our neighbours rattle inside their shells As our boy bounces off the walls Of our little world, Where the music is constant And his breathing always  Sets the tempo of our hearts And the rhythm of our sleep.

This little poem was written the 24th and 25th of March, 8 and 9 nine days into the lock-down here in France.  We're doing well, trying to keep creative as keeping our little boy entertained takes up most of our time. Things can get a little tense between neighbours in all this. We've had to encourage our nocturnal neighbours into a healthier rhythm as they kept waking Gabriel. Please be considerate and patient with each other, especially if you live in a flat. 
And while your locked in, get to know the poetry of Micheal O'Saidhail... Nothing to do with my poem but here h…


Πνεῦμα  (Pneuma)
I hear you in the near silent sleep of Gabriel The great proclaimer of good news, Resting in infancy. You whisper through his tiny nostrils Nourishing the matrix of his budding cells With so much more than bread.
I hear you in autumn’s rustling mural Fluttering flaming flakes before the blue With a cogency unseen. You whistle past our window cills Piercing through our self-made hells For which the incarnate bled.
I hear you sing beneath the sensorial The tone beneath the chord, within the myth the true, A resounding symphony That echoes between hearts and hills, That melodies in the deepest living well; The source from which all souls are fed.

This poem is inspired by the reflections of Owen Barfield, often called the ‘First and Last Inkling,’ who, in his book ‘Poetic Diction’, reflects on the evolution of language. The Greek work ‘pneuma’ can accurately be translated as ‘breath', 'wind' or 'spirit' depending on the context (It is the same with Hebrew word ‘ruach’ and…

At Sea: A Poem for Uncertain Times

At Sea

We are all at sea. The horizon is fluid, It’s mountains are Ever changing. Squalls bring tomorrow into now. We intertwine our limbs Into the rigging And hope the waves Don’t tear us at the seams, As the celestial force of time Crashes over our bows And threatens our creaky hull With a premature eternity
We are all at sea. Planning our routes by Liquid landmarks. A drift in a stillness That stretches today Into starvation. We sink our teeth