James Tipp Poems

Why is truth always the victim of diplomacy
The blindingly obvious gives way to the mundane
The victims of injustice feel victimised again
If justice is blind then the victims are blinded
...

Easter Friday 2009

The world wakes up to the sound of bird song
The day is as ever nothing has changed
...

This ancient obelisk stands sentinel along the track
Its weathered trunk appears to be etched in hieroglyphics
But no human hands have done this work, here nature rules
The signs of wear and tear of age and of transition
...

Within this ancient woodland scene the lovers stand
Entwined it seems for all eternity, they have grown together
The story of their plight lost in the myths of time and space
The lovers whose love excluded them from family and friends
...

Like a gaping hole in the rocks it lies open
The tomb has been empty for two thousand years
But they insist on putting him back each year
To produce him again on Easter day, Surprise!
...

The Secret Door

From childhood the secret door
Has beckoned to the inner me.
...

History Writ Large

Like layered cake the tide washes
The crumbled mix of history
...

When they came I stood alone, empty of emotion
My prayers had drawn everything from me
Exhausted me in a new way, my father seemed removed
This loneliness was unnatural to me, his voice an echo
...

The saint and sinner ever combined
Unable to un-mix the two contradictions
Who are at constant war within.
Grace is a must in my world, my experience
...

It began in flame and turmoil
God’s outpouring of the Spirit
Freely given to young and old
Male and Female Greek and Jew
...