Peter Lilly: Poems

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...

You took on flesh, True flesh and grew With the same astonishing  Life-long quickness  Of my one-year-old son. You had a first birthday,  Finding your feet, The Word, imitating language With sighs and groans, The Word of Life, so deep within, So clear and true, In unadulterated expression Of a conviction beyond Language. On the 28th of December my son, Gabriel, will have his first birthday. The year has been indescribable. Yet throughout all the challenges, just revelling in the privilege of being with our little boy as he grows has brought such sheer joy. At this time of year I'm obviously thinking about the incarnation. But rather than Jesus' birth, I'm thinking of him at the same stage of life as our little boy, as a one-year-old. Gabriel has been walking for a couple of months now, and often makes long convicted speeches in sounds that no one else understands, waving his hands like he's teaching some essential truth to a captiv...

peterlillypoetry · Displaced redemption There was a world, displaced from its axis by repeated tragedies of its own making, as the inhabitants attempt to grasp the credit for it's own creating. An entire macrocosm misaligned by embezzling clutches and throning lusts. Who's history is marked by a needless taking, and just in case, a pious faking to appease a possible divinity as either a patsy or a machine. There was a world, decomposing in it's own folly. Spinning itself dizzy flailing after impervious redemption. And inside that world there was a people displaced from its milk and honey by a ruling superpower. As the globalising tar of Rome spread to paint the Empire one culture, this people had been waiting. Listening in silence for the reason of their plight, Waiting for the sword of a rallying leader to severe their shackles, and the throats of the chain-bearers, alike. Waiting with the same attitude ...

Man. Vulnerable, dependant. Suckling, giggling, crying . Universal significance profoundly juvenile. God. God.  Immovable, sustainer. giggling, crying, accommodating . immeasurably deepening love's definition. Man. A poem made up of two quintain structures reflecting on God's self-accomodation in the incarnation. Written 20/12/12.