Light My Fire.

I am calling for the elderly to chew the fat with me

How different do you feel today to when you were thirty three?

In years gone by with heavy logs I built retaining walls

Concrete steps were not too hard and I never had a fall.

My legs were strong they didn’t shake or wobble on a step

And the flowers that I planted were photographed in health

But now I‘m touching 85 (well in some months I’ll be)

And the very thought of labouring can bring me to my knees.

Now I have told a little lie because my knees won’t bend

For as soon as they have reached the floor pain sends me round the bend.

Now I have to tell you, dear old friends that I’ve just had a big surprise

For yesterday I built an edge with every brick that caught my eyes.

They came from corners of my yard, that were holding up this and that

But now they’re much more useful as an edging that can catch

The water flowing from next door and drains under the fence

Then once it runs right down the yard, it flows back under her fence! 

So I’m surprised I had the strength with my old creaking back

To give my neighbour ‘what for’ and send their wastage back

It seems to me it does depend on if my feelings are strong

And then my ire will light a fire and my muscles can’t go wrong.

Wyn Barratt  Feb 2012.

Return Of The Traveller.

I don’t know where I want to be right now, Lord,

In Your arms or at Your throne

I only know that when I came back home Lord

This house felt strange and not like home.

I flew across the sea to see New Zealand

And was amazed by all its beauty, wild and free

It felt like home, that I belonged there, yet every vista

Was something not familiar to me.

Back at my house with heavy bags and heavy heart too

I opened up the door to silent damp

Where was my heart; my joy; my dearly familiar?

This clammy space, sterile and silent had broken rank.

It lost its spirit in my absence; no voice or music

To keep up the appearance of a home

It was not needed, used, remembered; and now was heart sick

And from me no joy or love for this, my home.

So now to work, and You are with me, I’ll take stock Lord

That bolt that’s hanging off the gate is first

Then the pools of mud and water from that rain storm

Ground waterlogged, it clearly has no thirst

The hinges on the back door need some help now

They’ve lost their grip on a door they’re meant to hold

Dog droppings on the lawn; do they think it’s theirs now?

Come the morning they’ll regret they’ve been so bold.

Wyn Barratt Feb 2013.

Paint My Words Out.

Lord, paint my words out of existence

For things I have said I’d withdraw

Please take up a brush for I’m now in a fuss

Paint Your blood over what I said before.

Words were said when I was so angry

They were said when my feelings were hurt

I was looking at life from my point of view

And now they seem cruel and curt.

I wish I could just click ‘delete’ now

And what I have said disappears

But they’ve already crept into somebody’s heart

And their pain and mine’s growing here.

So Lord paint my words out of existence

While I ask their forgiveness right here

Wash them out with Your blood dear Lord Jesus

I hope my friend knows I’m sincere.

Wyn Barratt Feb 2013