James Tipp

Rookie - 408 Points (20-06-1945 / East London)

James Tipp Poems

81. Good Friday Meditation 2003 12/15/2009
82. Good Friday Today 12/15/2009
83. Easter The Gate 12/15/2009
84. The Captive Jesus 12/15/2009
85. Life Is Fog Bound 12/14/2009
86. Soft Mist 12/14/2009
87. The Blushing Sky 12/14/2009
88. Shekina Light 12/14/2009
89. A Stranger Called Erik 12/14/2009
90. For A Friend 12/14/2009
91. Whose Model 12/15/2009
92. Drowning In My Own Ignorance 12/15/2009
93. Mirror Mirror On The Wall 12/15/2009
94. Easter Morning In The Twenty First Century 12/15/2009
95. Good Friday Meditation Do We Understand 12/15/2009
96. Good Friday Meditation Alchemy Of Pain 12/15/2009
97. Easter Thoughts Of Judas 12/15/2009
98. Easter A Night To Remember 12/15/2009
99. Before The Cross Christmas Thoughts 12/15/2009
100. A Poem For Now, Today, This Moment 12/15/2009
101. Good Friday 2009 12/15/2009
102. In Death I See Myself 12/15/2009
103. The Disabler The P Word 12/15/2009
104. The Mire Of Despond 12/15/2009
105. Remembrance Sunday 2001 12/15/2009
106. The Reaper 12/15/2009
107. Mystery In The Mist 12/15/2009
108. I Feel Like An Empty Box 12/15/2009
109. Do We Know It All 12/15/2009
110. At Death Door I Wonder 12/15/2009
111. Christmas Poem-This Is The Day 12/15/2009
112. Christmas Poem- The Differance 12/15/2009
113. And The Carpenter Came! 12/22/2009
114. Good Friday Meditation How It Is 12/22/2009
115. West Malling Abbey The Dance Of Spring 12/22/2009
116. The Darkness Of Self 6th Sunday After Trinty Bcp 12/22/2009
117. Whatever New Year It Is? 12/29/2009
118. Christmas Poem 2005 1/6/2010
119. Good Friday Meditation The Thoughts Of Others 1/6/2010
120. Expectations 1/6/2010

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Best Poem of James Tipp

The News Of War

The News Today

I listened to the news to day there was death in every place
I wondered how we'd sing, of such amazing grace
The screaming of the mother, the body wrappers tales
The screaming of the mortar round, the piercing jarring wails.
Its happening so far away, its happening there today
The politicians wring their hands there's nothing left to say.
The body mountains growing whose selling them the guns
We don't do arms to monsters, that's how the story runs.
We watch the slaughter daily, detached and far away
Yet worry over Rednapp and how he's team ...

Read the full of The News Of War

Ospringe Churchyard

This Godly place lies waiting for the traveller
Beckons through the covered canopy of Yew
Twin paths around flint walls speak of yesterday.
Stone obelisk worn with age, etched in bygone days
Washed by the winter rain burned by summer sun
Fade into lifeless pillars of forgotten memories.
This English churchyard surrounded by summer wheat
Remains a secluded place of refuge for today.

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