Christine Pashley

Christine Pashley, a resident of Conisbrough for 20 years has sent us a selection of her poems What do you see?

He wanders aimlessly through the streets

And kicks the can about

He´s rude to everyone he meets

And is branded just a lout.

But he is living just like you

But do you really care?

Do you think “That could be my child too”

Or do you merely condemn and stare?

Our Lord told us to love each child

And through them the kingdom find

Did he only say the meek and mild

No he meant children of all kinds.

This child did not request it´s birth

Nor choose its dwelling place

Do we have to measure his worth

Before we show a smiling face

He´s used to insult and abuse

He´s harder than you think

But deep within his heart cries out

Will you offer him a drink

Can you be sure that´s not our Lord

Who stands and kicks the dust

Don´t children deserve to hear God´s word

Peace not violence, love not lust.

We walk the path to glory

With children lagging behind

But surely they should be in front

An example to mankind.

A young child´s heart is so open

It´s life that bars the way

So let´s keep those doors from closing

By witnessing to them each day.

They are the future of our church

But so many lambs have gone

Would Christ have let them stray away

No- He would search for every one

And we must all do the same

And reach out to every child

And witness to them in Jesus name

Until the lambs are safe inside

Walk with me

O my child you weep for that which is lost

When all around is abundant treasure

You are surrounded by silver and gold

And yet you mourn for lead and iron

The empty packages will fly away in the wind

Their contents long forgotten, yet what you see now

Is real Eternal and Everlasting

Stop doubting now in life and trust

Your hand in mine securely held

Come walk along the path with me

And drink and eat from My vast store

I love you child, forever mine, you´ll walk with me forever more,

Sometimes you´ll stumble, sometimes fall,

But I´ll be there to pick you up,

I´ll wipe your tears and dust you down

Encourage you when you´re fed up.

But sometimes you´ll wander off

To pick the flowers over there,

I´ll wait and watch you where you go

And often shout out loud “Take care”

Sometimes you´ll listen, sometimes not

And when you don´t I ache for you

You cannot trust that I know best

And what I say is right and true

But lessons learnt from blood that´s shed

Are very seldom lost to view.

And on your return I´ll bandage you

And heal you with my loving touch.

And you will cry and say “No more”

and I´ll forgive, I love so much

And once again you´re on my road

Your hand securely held in mine

We walk as one, I share your load

Towards that city so divine.

The road is narrow hard to climb

And often easier ways are seen,

But I just whisper “Take your time,

And when you´re tired just on me lean”

Come walk with me, O child of mine

And see what treasures wait for you.

I died for you that you might find

That I am, was and will be true.

Just set your eyes upon the cross

And set your feet upon my road

And think of Victory, not of loss

And cut away sins heavy load

I wait for you with open arms

And many long to welcome you

Within my armour free from harm

To walk secure and straight and true

And every step shout constantly


Lake District thoughts

Like undulating folds of drapers cloth

Your mountains seem to go,

And what a myriad host of colours

Each one has on show.

The purple of the heather,

greens of every hue,

Here and there is brackish brown

Or bare grey rock to view.

While at the lakeside you provide a mirror

For all that you have made,

So whether our eyes look up or down,

Your handiwork is displayed.

It´s like looking at a canvas,

Yet each brush stroke breathes with life.

How many eyes have gazed on it,

And found refreshment from their strife?

But many more have passed it by,

Too hurried to look up,

Their lives so full of emptiness

Fulfilments round the bend.

But each promising bend reveals

Another empty road,

And so they travel on life´s way

With an ever daunting load.

If only they would stop and look

At what you´re showing them

Acknowledge there´s a Creator

Who wants to meet with them.

These mountains and these lakes will be here

When our generations gone

When we´ve all returned

To the same brown earth

That I now look upon.

And gradually I realise

That my instant here of life

Is nothing when I compare it

To my promised heavenly time

But while I wait for that time Lord

I pray that I´ll never lose

My wonder at your handiwork

And the beauty of these views.

The Rosebud

The gardener picked the rosebud up

He cradled it in his hands

Stroking the frost touched petals

He wept for what was lost.

Never would this flower bloom,

As it was meant to do,

That bitter touch had snatched away

Such glory from his view.

He knew that many more would come,

To fill this bud´s small space

And each would blossom and would fade

Within this dwelling place

But still he mourned for this little one

That though he cared so much

The frosty fingers had claimed their prize

And stopped what He´d begun.

But then deep within Him

A hope begun to stir

That warmth and love inside His house

Might bring the dead to life.

He carried in the rosebud

And gently laid it down

He fetched the jar of water

And put the flower in

Then quietly bent and kissed it

So that the healing could begin.

His love flowed in that water

And his warmth thawed out the cold.

The rose unfurled her petals

Her richness was on view

He smiled as he bent to touch it,

As he caressed her silken sheen

And he knew it had been worth it

Now her beauty could be seen.

That rosebud grew in my garden

For just a little time

Until death with his icy fingers

Tried to say “She´s mine”

But my Lord was my gardener

And he took her into His house

And He breathed into her His eternal life

So she could bloom for Him.

I´ve watered my daughter´s memory

With many, many tears

And I´ve asked Him -Why?

And He´s answered me

And now I know for sure

That when my turn comes to go to Him

My daughter will be my guide.

Christine Pashley

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