Author: Ian Trimnell

ALL OUT FOR GOD Sunday 30th May: Go Barefoot On behalf Of The Persecuted “Continue to remember those in prison as if you were together with them in prison, and those who are mistreated as if you yourselves were suffering.” (Hebrews 13: 3) RELEASE INTERNATIONAL is an inter-denominational Christian ministry working through local church partners in...

THOSE DANCING DAYS ARE GONE by W.B. Yeats Come, let me sing into your ear; Those dancing days are gone, All that silk and satin gear; Crouch upon a stone, Wrapping that foul body up In as foul a rag: I carry the sun in a golden cup. The moon in a silver bag. Curse as...

FRAGMENT by Sappho The moon has set In a bank of jet That fringes the Western sky, The pleiads seven Have sunk from heaven And the midnight hurries by; My hopes are flown And, alas! alone On my weary couch I lie. Good evening and welcome to Evening Prayer That this evening may be holy, good...

O ME! O LIFE! by Walt Whitman O me! O life! of the questions of these recurring, Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish, Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?) Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean,...

WHERE THE MIND IS WITHOUT FEAR by Rabindranath Tagore Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high; Where knowledge is free; Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls; Where words come out from the depth of truth; Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;...

TREES by Mark Haddon They stand in parks and graveyards and gardens. Some of them are taller than department stores, yet they do not draw attention to themselves. You will be fitting a heated towel rail one day and see, through the louvre window, a shoal of olive-green fish changing direction in the air that swims...

FOUR IN THE MORNING by Wislawa Szymborska The hour from night to day. The hour from side to side. The hour for those past thirty. The hour swept clean to the crowing of cocks. The hour when earth betrays us. The hour when wind blows from extinguished stars. The hour of and-what-if-nothing-remains-after-us. The hollow hour. Blank,...

The Spiritual Canticle By  John of the Cross O soul, most beautiful among all creatures, you who so long to know the place where your Beloved is, so as to seek him and become one with him, now it has been stated: you yourself are the home in which he dwells. Here is a reason to be...

The Ascent of Mount Carmel [Dark Night of the Soul] By  John of the Cross On a dark night, Inflamed by love-longing— O exquisite risk!— Undetected I slipped away. My house, at last, grown still. Secure in the darkness, I climbed the secret ladder in disguise— O exquisite risk!— Concealed by the darkness. My house, at last,...

SNOWDROPS by Louise Glück Do you know what I was, how I lived? You know what despair is; then winter should have meaning for you. I did not expect to survive, earth suppressing me. I didn’t expect to waken again, to feel in damp earth my body able to respond again, remembering after so long how...

ORANGES by Mary Oliver Cut one, the lace of acid rushes out, spills over your hands. You lick them, manners don’t come into it. Orange. The first word you have heard that day enters your mind. Everybody then does what he or she wants; breakfast is casual. Slices, quarters, halves, or the whole hand holding an...

HOW IT IS by Maxine Kumin Shall I say how it is in your clothes? A month after your death I wear your blue jacket. The dog at the center of my life recognizes you’ve come to visit, he’s ecstatic. In the left pocket, a hole. In the right, a parking ticket delivered up last August...

1964 by Jorge Luis Borges II. I will no longer be happy. Maybe it doesn’t matter. there are many other things in the world; any moment is more profound and diverse than the sea. Life is short and though hours are very long, a dark delight lies in wait for us Death, that other sea, the...

1964 by Jorge Luis Borges I. The world has lost its magic. They have left you. You no longer share the clear moon nor the slow gardens. Now there is no moon that isn’t a mirror to the past, Solitary crystal, anguished sun. Goodbye to the mutual hands and the temples that brought love closer. Today...

The voice by Shel Silverstein  There is a voice inside of you that whispers all day long, ‘I feel that this is right for me, I know that this is wrong.’ No teacher, preacher, parent, friend or wise man can decide what’s right for you – just listen to the voice that speaks inside. Good evening...