Little Bunny: An Easter Poem
There was a little rabbit, whose complaint I overheard: He said, “I wish I weren’t a bunny! I’d rather be a bird – Or some kind of...
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IN THE BEGINNING, GOD CREATED.
When we create something, we are partnering with God Himself in bringing new things into being. The ultimate purpose of the act of creation, therefore, is to glorify the original and ultimate Creator by producing things of life and truth and wholeness and beauty. My aim as a writer is to depict the glory of God as clearly and as eloquently as possible, and to take on His creative nature as a vocation and an inheritance. It is through His grace and the redemptive death and resurrection of His Son, Jesus, that we are privileged to share in this sacred calling to give birth to beauty.
I believe God plants a vision of beauty in the heart of every person called to create that produces an intense longing for something that never quite materialises. One day, I will discover that the vision God has planted in my heart is the deepest and grandest of them all - a vision of Himself, the Love-Lord and Creator-King of all the beauty that has ever been made.
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Second Sight: A February Poem
They say, “How dull and bleak And endlessly drear Is February – the back end of the year.” They do not find, for they do not seek The...
Cariad: A Valentine's Day Poem
The Welsh call me cariad, The French say amour. I live in quiet places, in the cracks in the floor. There’s a cave up the mountain where...
Broken Promises: A January Poem
January goes out, grim and gaunt and grey, A worn and weary hunter chasing after weary prey. She brought the blues, she bared the land,...
Keep Faith - Remembrance Day Poem #3
Keep faith in the gore and gunshots on the Gallipoli beach – Keep faith in the scrubs of Sedd el Bahr, a battle-line to breach. No...
Keep Watch - Remembrance Day Poem #2
Keep watch, they said, on the misted fields and drizzle-damp of Marne. Strain your sight for the shift in light and raise a quick alarm....
Keep Silent - Remembrance Day Poem #1
Though words are stronger than silence, the only song I sung Lost its verbs at Passchendaele, pronouns at Verdun. The only lines I care...
Traditions: A Christmas Poem
The Victorian traditions are lost and forgotten. The Christmas pomander for scent, clove-studded orange, Preserved in groves of spices;...
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ABOUT
"The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing ...
to find the place where all the beauty came from."
- CS Lewis, Till We Have Faces
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Bethia, 19
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Poet and story-teller
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Avid reader
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Food lover
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Jesus follower
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Sister to six boys
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CONTACT ME
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