I’ve recently taken to writing poems when in meetings or lectures as a way of distracting the distractable part of my mind so I can focus. This was the result of one such occasion, a poem on Time as a gift.
A poem of mine about poetry.
Sometimes something catches your imagination, it tugs on a thread and you have to give in to the temptation and allow some exploration. This happened last night when I reread Tennyson’s ‘The Eagle’. If you’re not following me on Twitter, then please do @SamuelSThorp
When the response is silence What more is there to say? Hypotheticals are void, Imagination fades, And hope dies A slow death. Breathe out. Breathe in. Let it go. Reality Is.
I sat down and started writing, and ended up wiring about writing. See what you make of it.
Imagine the Sun was an artist, what would their favourite moment be?
If we wish to speak profitably to others, then we must speak prophetically. To speak prophetically we must speak pneumatically, speaking truthfully in accordance with the one who is the Truth. To speak thusly, we must therefore in all things confess Jesus Christ as Lord, from hearts which are sustained by the Holy Spirit, and […]
From a young age we are asked what we would like to be when we’re older. I, on one occasion, stood up in front of the entire school at the end of term service in my home church at the time and proudly declared that I wanted to be a bin man. Yup. My rationale […]