Writer's Block

 

 

 

At least twice a year

With this I come face to face,

I know I need to write

But of what, I cannot trace.

 

It is four days now

I have not typed a stroke

Hence, I feel a little guilty

Since last I wrote.

 

On the other occasions

I just decided to write

And before long it was “Aha!”

An issue came to light.

 

Up to now, however,

Nothing is beginning to gel

Yet there are many topics today

On which the people dwell.

 

 

Elections is one of them

COVID is still in the air,

To vaccinate or not to vaccinate

Is still creating some fear.

 

A very good friend of mine

Just went to the great beyond

And he is very much on my mind

Every awaking dawn.

 

He has caused my block,

He dominates my thoughts

And I dare say for four days now

I’ve been quite distraught.

 

 

It doesn’t seem real

That he has passed away

And denial plagues my thoughts

Each and every day.

 

 

A reminder of the year 2017

And a repeat of 2018

When two equally dear friends

Departed from this scene.

 

They died relatively suddenly

At the age of fifty-nine,

And that's the age my friend Stephen

Also completed his time.

 

 Pearline, Michael and Stephen,

Three friends at age fifty-nine:

“A turn on life's road with a pothole"

Suggested a friend of mine.

 

It was at age fifty-nine

That he too had a serious bump

But the grim reaper lost the battle

And was temporarily trumped.

Another friend of Stephen

Is now particularly concerned,

He too is at age fifty-nine,

“Could he be next in turn?”

 

It is amazing, my friend,

How we sometimes think

And these obsessive tendencies

Can drive us to the brink.

 

It’s "one day at a time" for me

In addition to "wait and see",

My times are in the Lord’s hand

And what will be will be.

 

 

That may sound fatalistic,

If so, I am guilty as accused

But this one thing I know quite well,

Jesus, I’ll never refuse.

 

A daily choice we make

Is that of acceptance or rejection:

A choice of death or eternal life,

It is a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ decision.

 

‘Yes’ or ‘No’ to the Lord Jesus,

‘Yes’ or ‘No’ to redemption,

Age fifty-nine is not the issue

The issue is one’s salvation.

 

  

Hey!  It is gone!

My writer's block is gone!

I started where I knew not where

But God has brought me on.

 

All credit to Him I give

Now and forevermore,

For even when my mind goes awry

It’s in Jesus Christ I soar.

 

Stewart Russell © January 13, 2022

 

Not As You Thought

It had flown in earlier

A brightly painted plane,

The landing gear was different

It distinctly appeared strange.

“How will it land?” I wondered,

After all it had to land

But I guess in such situations

The pilot has a plan.

A considerable time after

I saw the plane again,

This time it was flying so low

I thought that this was insane.

“It is flying too low,” I shouted,

“It is going to crash!”

So out of the bedroom I went

And up the passage in a flash.

It canted on a side

And headed to the ground,

A school was in its way

And that is where it came down.

I live quite near the airport

Just outside the flight path,

And when I realized it was dream

I could only laugh.

I was sitting by the side door

Of my wife’s family home,

It was night I remembered

And I was there alone.

Suddenly I heard a car

And a lady there from alighted,

When I saw who the person was

I was absolutely delighted.

She looked and me and smiled

Amused by my surprise

For surely I had thought

It was someone in disguise.

  

But then I heard another voice

A very familiar chuckle,

“How could it be?” I asked myself,

By now I was really puzzled.

I knew I couldn’t be dreaming

It was much too real for that,

I was absolutely convinced in mind

That what I saw was fact.

However, I guess I must tell you

It was really just a dream

The chuckle I heard was Michael

And my sister-in-law, Pearline.

“A night of dreams,” I hear,

“Just dreaming his night away.”

But all this happened, I must say

At the earliest light of day.

The chiming clock went crazy

And chimed at a quarter past two

So I got up from the bed

And did what I had to do.

I got me a new battery

And installed it in the clock

And then fixed the faulty chimes

That chimed when they should not.

Rather than going back to bed

I did what I like doing,

That is as you may have figured

I sat and wrote a poem.

Not the one I am writing now

That would not make sense,

If that’s what you actually thought

You must be really dense.

When I went back to the bed

It was already light

So that the dreams I dreamt

Didn’t happen during the night.

With the first one I was happy

That it was only just a dream

But not so with the second one

Involving Michael and Pearline.

But things are just as they are

And we must live with that,

Some things we cannot change

And a dream is not a fact.

Stewart Russell © April 23, 2019

If You Could See Us Now

How we ache!

How our hearts break!

As we remember you, Mike.

Particularly today

On your birthday

As we recall that fateful night.

The news received

Was not easily believed

And even up till now.

But we’ve hung in there

Without you here

And we’ve managed somehow.

Pearls one year

And you the next year

Was truly too much to take.

But we thank God

And Him we applaud

In His hands is our fate.

If you could see us

As you rest in Jesus

You would tell us all is well.

So sleep on my brother

 As we together

Console one another.

We miss you terribly

We do so daily

But we have your legacy.

Stewart Russell © April 9, 2019

It’s Amazing

 

It’s amazing how what’s important

Is not important anymore,

Has this ever struck you?

Had it entered your mind before?

You have set out your plans

And you have priortised,

Suddenly an emergency occurs

And you are de-energised.

Everything suddenly flat-lines

And prior priorities are relegated,

They are not important anymore

And relatively unrelated.

A case in point is a recent event

That just threw everything askew,

We were planning towards Christmas

Christmas was in everyone’s view.

Unexpectedly there was a death

A death we thought would be averted,

After a promising turn around

Then of the death we were alerted.

All of a sudden our Christmas plans

Were not important any more

For the passing of our beloved one

Grieved and vexed our spirits sore.

Many were the puzzling questions

And the “what if we had done so and so”

But “what if” are only afterthoughts

Which come with the emotional blow.

The Christmas lights are not as bright

The appetite is pretty slack,

We would change every single plan

If only we could have our loved one back.

It is surreal to say the least

Has he really gone for a truth?

Christmas will not be the same this year

And that forms part of the proof.

  

Sometimes it smacks of a set up

But God is not a conman,

Though it’s difficult to understand

God is getting on with His plan.

His is primary; ours is secondary

And not nearly quite as important,

His ways and thoughts are past finding out

And ours are relatively insignificant.

In time to come we will understand

But for now we must commit to trust

And thank God for Michael Clarke

And the legacy he leaves with us.

Stewart Russell © December 19, 2018

At: 5:21 p.m.