Born to die a darkened death
Too close to God - too soon soldier
Stench of trenches
Rose battled breath; the death
Too far; too deep; too poisonous

Yet purity in heavenly greetings
The German meets the Englishman
Shoot the soloist; gun down the poet
Breathe the breath of Britten's Requiem
DRAMATIC STRENGTH of DEATH

Die soldier, die, I cry
Born to die in dirt, depth deeper than
The abyss of hell - He'll tell the tale
In an orchestral ambivalent cresando

WAR - it tears me ear; my heart,
My belly bellows; war
No more

Peace be with you
Peace be with you

Touching the hand is a tearful task
Touching the smile is a bounty of grace.

Peace be with you my friend
Peace be with you.

Open your heart let angels in
Open your hear let choirs sing.

Peace be with you
Peace be with you.

For now, for then, for before
For ever more
Peace be with you

The Lord I see in pictures
Far beyond my view

Each depicting my view
Of him, visions of ethereal

Interpretation, some intimidating
Some pure, some simple. I love

Each for its own view of what it nurtures
Of what it feels, of what it believes

Being true, of its time it releases
The artistry of creativity with verve

From the holy scriptures, aiming to please
Easing the eye of the beholder's believe

In leading the heart and eyes
to a distant reality, no words

Are spoken, just form and colour
Reflecting in our eyes

The truths no lies, the terror
Of the crucified Jesus

The trinity in one lies
In a triangular force: I view

A cross in mid air
No nails, no blood, no face

I view, John the Baptist
I view, God the Father
I view the Dove

The sky, the earth, the tree of life
I view do you, do you

Mystical Paintbrush, oils of Colour
Images, icons, re-creating

God's world, capturing stories
Stories of old and new

Do you see what I see
Do you view what I view

Does the sight that you were given
Dance, and delve, sing and pray

Alleluia, for the artist has viewed
Deep inside, viewed the bible

Gospel, prayers - to PAINT
For you for me for God

A picture to tell a narrative
Juxtaposed to his believe

His stroke and style will tell
The truth as you the viewer view

With innocence; God's face
A child will have an image for life

An idea of the Holy Ghost
The face of Jesus carries him through life

Mother Mary, the Priest
How can an iconoclastic

Didactic assumption be
Disgraced, discussed, displaced

It can't: or can it, the myth of God
Is it that - or not?

And every myth has a re-telling
In the historical, culture

Of its time - so paint a woman
Paint a cross, paint no pain, paint pain

Paint a priest, a temple
A well; but paint, the truth

Of all you know, you feel,
You think, then re-tell

The faith you hold. So God
Can see your works and say

Yes; You believe in one
The God
The Father
The Holy Ghost

AMEN

My Lord, I have produced for you
A gallery of paintings and poetry

My kaleidoscopic journey, with Christian
Teachings, shamed in music, art, theology,
Has proclaimed to me, what I always know,

You are my Lord, you are my guiding star
Each breath I breathe, is the gift of life
From you my Lord, from you, and I thank you
Lord, with all my heart, soul being and voice

I know you held my hand
I know I met each ancestor
I know through voice and paint
Musical notes evolved into pictures

Moses climbed up a mountain
The Jews were outcast, homeless
But their faith parted Red Seas
My hand

Allowing their faith to travel
A SLAB of truths, were handed to Moses
10 Commandments, alighted his face
Brought down from Mount Sina

"Whalt thou shalt not Do"
Preaches of the Old Testament
And great things to come
So what shell we do my Lord?
Turn over the slab of faith and behave?

For then the scarf will grow
Into an aposlitic story of
Christ, the son of God

Great parables of Common Source
Great healing pavers of Mountainous Miracles

The chosen one - good tidings he brings
Living skills to begin a scarf

A scarf of Christening
Knitting together a colourful

Kaleidoscope of faith, love, hope and charity
With each generation, producing a geneology
Stitch, evolving into a pattern of Christian
Life, the repetitive stitch, it's own style

For me my kaleidoscopic experience has
Brough to me the knitting needles of
Endless creativity shared with
God my Lord, at my helm

"I will wear my Red dress on Apolcalyptic Night"

I will wear my Red Dress
On Apocalyptic Night

When the purple rage
Devours the Earth

I will wear my Apocalyptic Dress
Red and taffeta silk with emerald stripes

The rivers will dry
I hear people cry
But I will wear my Red Dress

The night will turn to space
As no-one hear God's Grace

The world dissolves into space
Creation - no longer

No bees, no birds
No trumpets or drums
No star; no trees

I wear my red dress of taffeta silk
With emerald stripes

The sun will not shine
The river won't flow

And all that I loved
Will be gone in a pestilent rage
But I will wear my Red taffeta silk dress

Scarlet is the colour I will wear
When White Horses come
With no faces

The glare on the Earth
So definitely soiled by MAN
And his greed, his destruction of Beauty

I hear people plead
As GOD'S heart BLEEDS

I will wear my Apocalyptic Red Dress
As the world dissolves into space

Creation no more, unknowing, I'm hoping
MY LORD GOD will not cry

As a solider of Truth, a solider of believe
I will wear MY RED Apocalyptic Dress
WHEN THE WHITE HORSES COME

My power of pen
My power of paint

My power of faith
My power to create

My power to listen
My power to learn

My power to indulge
My power to question

My power to put aside
My power to heal

My power to know
My power to pray

My power to be humble
My power to say me

Bricks and mortar
Find the heart

Of man and prayer
Of song and Bible

Cathedral spires
Inspire the man

They bring, hope and
Charity; love and faith

Inspiration of the soul
Can, never be measured;

Can never be told
But sharing and caring

Adorning the Church
Maintaining its beauty
Encourages its worth

The Spire will bring peace,
Consolement, happiness
And God; All under one roof

Truro Cathedral's Spire, will
Inspire: all those of Faith

To congregate together
Forever
Under its Loving Care