A Poem for every day in November

The first day of November
Surprises me
With sunshine.
Bright and glorious.

'Tis true there is
A chill in the air,
But the sun is most welcome.

As my old Aunt would have said,
"This will shorten the winter."
Indeed we are always glad
To have sunshine
At this time of the year,
As often grey day follows grey.

So today we rejoice
In a touch of May
As we begin November.

God speaks to me
In the early hours.
He shows me myself
In all the horror
Of my selfishness
And yet here is
His forgiving love.
He is resplendent in
Perfect righteousness.
I am sickened by myself.
How could he love me?
And yet he does
And lifts me up
Till I know my worth
In him.
And all my horror at myself
Disappears
In knowing I am
Eternally loved by him.

Drink in the glory of the
Autumn colours.
Saturate your mind
With this bliss.
For this dazzling blaze
Of differing hues
Will quickly pass.
One sharp frost,
Or one wet windy night
Will rob us
Of this wonderful display.
The candle flares up
Before the darkness comes.

Drink in the colour
And store it in your mind
To cheer you
In the grey days of the winter.
And then prepare for Spring's gentler splendour.

I get into bed
And snuggle down,
I feel beautifully sleepy
And begin to doze.
And then
With a click and a clunk
My mind begins to whirr.
I am wide awake
And full of ideas.

I try to discipline myself
To lie still,
But that euphoric, cosy state
Has gone.
Why does the bed
Feel like a board
when in the morning,
when I finally settle,
It will be soft
And I will feel moulded into it,
almost inside the mattress?
Whereas now, I feel I am lying
On top of the bed
Exposed to every wind of thought
And waterfall of idea.
It's no good,
I must get up and write.

This body is getting old
First the back
And now the shoulder
Complain
Of too much use.

What to do for the best,
Should I exercise
Or should I rest?

How it pulls
The spirit down
When the body
Makes itself noticed
Shall I take painkillers
Or wear a poultice?

I know not if it is because of age
For I have been this road many times before,
Even in my teenage.

Soon it will cease
And I will skip like a lamb
Taking for granted
My mobility.

Gentle night
Surround me
With your healing power.
Hold me in the hollow
Of your scented bower.

With your dreams entrance me.
Smooth my fears away.
Bring me to the brink
Of a new, sweet day.

There to face the perils
Of a new day's light,
Strengthened by my sleep,
For another fight.

November rain
Is in the air,
Falling down.
But the trees are not yet bare.

It's cold and wet.
Let's stay inside,
Or if you like
In the car we'll ride.

We'll fetch some eggs
And bacon too
Fry them up.
That's what we'll do.

We'll eat them up
In a trice,
Then have a pudding.
That'll be nice.

We'll thank the Lord
Who gives us all,
Praise His name
And on Him call.

For God above
Deserves our praise.
We'll worship Him
All our days.

Pitter, patter
It can't be rain.
Yes it is,
Here it comes again.

Oh what fortunate people we are,
To have rain.
Not like people afar,
Who have no crops
To feed themselves,
But have to look at
Empty shelves.
So we must ever thankful be
When rain on our window pane we see.

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Rain lashing down,
The sun a memory,
Hidden behind grey cloud,
Grey shroud.

Thank the Lord
For electric light.

Cold's fingers touch my skin.
I shiver.

Thank the Lord
For warm clothes.

For all problems
He has an answer.

And so November
Surprises us again
With skies of blue
And coloured trees.

The leaves are thinning out,
The splendour not so great
And yet a little blaze is there
Bravely shining in the sun
Before the last leaf falls.

She does not like my new friend.
But why?
We are not close.
What danger does she see
In this enthusiastic person?
Ready to work
To make our project a success.

Does she fear she will not be so valued?
Not the king pin
she desires to be?
Can we not work together in harmony
And have greater success?

The night was rough,
The leaves are falling fast.
The rain is pulling them
From off the twigs.

We see their glory fade
We prepare
For the starkness of winter hillside.

Men think we want to change them,
We do not.
We want them to stay
The kind, attentive men
They are
When we first meet them.
The gentlemen
With kindly smile
Always ready to listen.

But once we marry them
Off comes the mask,
And anger creeps into their face.
Or simply they ignore us.
Why can't they stay
The way they were
When we first met them.

Winter sun
Shining so brightly
Clearing away the gloom.
Stll there are leaves with colour
Although they will soon
Be gone.

The cold will bite
And the wind will moan,
But the Spring will come again.
The seasons will circle
The days grow long
And you will be
With me again.

Last night I preached a sermon
Of judgment and of love,
How Jesus came to save us
He came from heaven above.
He humbled himself
To take our place
Upon that cross of shame.
I know not if the congregation
Cared for why he came.
I could be disappointed
And lose heart,
But I console myself
By preaching
I did my part.
I must travel on
And preach again,
Knowing not
If my efforts
Cause faith to wax or wane.

My Lord knows
What the result will be.
I'll trust in him
For what will be.

When I am lost
In deep despair
There is a beauteous cloak I wear.

It is the robe of righteousness
Which Jesus brings,
And oh 'tis fair.
Given to me at such a price.
The cost his death
And separation from the Father for our vice.

It wraps me round with holly glee
To be accepted, even me.

This is the only way to enter,
To be accepted at heaven's centre.
This precious robe it must be worn
If you would stand on heaven's morn.

How moods
Will come and go.
Now I am happy, gleeful,
Then low and slow.

So which is the real me
The happy or the sad?
Am I basically merry,
Joyous and glad?
Or am I really solemn,
Feeling all is bad?

Happiness usually
Wins the day.
But I would like this way to stay.
I do not enjoy
Depression gray.

It's nearly ten at night
And I have nearly forgotten
My poem of the day.
What shall I say?
I'm getting lax
Treating my challenge
With gay abandon
As if the words come easily.
Leaving my poem
Till the dregs of the day.
What shall I say?
Oh!! I see I've said it.

The light has dawned
A new day has come
Christ has arisen in my life.
Before all was dark
But He has come
To dispel all my gloom
My sin is gone.
His righteousness
Is wrapping me round
Where once was sin's dark stain.
I gladly admit my need of Him
And gladly wear His crown.

The family came
We had fish and chips.
Laughter and chatter
Filled the air.

Then they were gone,
Peace descended.
Here's to the next time
They come.

Leaves chase along the path
Like children at play.
My shoes scrunch through them
As I go on my way.

They toss and frolic
In the wind,
In varied hue
As you will find.

The wind is cold,
The darkness falls.
We go indoors
Safe in four walls.

A Bible is a wondrous thing.
Not meant to prop up a ricketty piece of furniture,
But meant to prop you up
With help from God.

It is like food.
You are meant to read it regularly
On a daily basis,
Small pieces at first
And then banquets
Or you will fade away.

The funeral is tomorrow.
We are busy
Seeing the registrar.
Ninety-seven years
Summed up in so few words.
Just a single sheet of paper
And then farewell.

There are biscuits to buy
And tea bags
For a farewell cup of tea
For the mourners.

Ninety-seven years
And then life here is over.
Gone into the mystery
Of beyond.
A road we all must travel.
May we travel it as well as he did.

In the old country chapel
In the great yew's shade
The mourners met
Their farewells to bade.

Alfred was gone
To the land above.
Remembered fondly
Remembered with love.

A much loved father
And Grandad too.
Tears were shed
For memories true.

Hymns were sung
And tributes read.
The kindest things
Were sweetly said.

Ninety-seven years
Over and gone.
In heaven above
His soul lives on.

The cold is nipping at my toes
Up in the north it snows.
Another duvet on my bed,
That's how the story goes.

Winter has come to England
And the leaves are off the trees
Summer is truly over
We are in for a freeze.

We never seem to be ready
We are always caught unaware
There's never enough grit for the roads
The cupboards are all bare.

A poem a day,
Oh what shall I say?
I've said it all
In the months before

A little rhyme,
But I don't have time.
It's driving me crazy
To come here each daysy.

If only April would come
Then I could be dumb.
Just lay down my pen.
Oh when, oh when?

My brain is quite hollow
I just want to wallow
In painting
And drawing
Or even go out of doors sawing.

But to rhyme
I want not.
I just want to be shot
Of this challenge
Of my own making.

By village lamp's light
We made our way
Up snowy path
To the church door.
Entering we found
Evergreen posies
All around.

We met to hear
The handbells ring
Cheerily welcoming us
And angel's wing
Was carved above
Where rafters met
To hold the roof
And keep out the wet.

An organ played
Of mellow tone.
Donated by Americans
Who had lived on the aerodrome.

Two violins joined in to play
An accordion also
With bold display
Of speed and talent
Made the day.

Mince pies and sausage rolls
Filled each tum.
Now was that brandy
Or a hint of rum.

A joyous time was had by all
We all went home having had a ball.

'Tis cold this day
For 'tis not May
And will not be for long

The cold will stay
For many a day.
So steel yourself my friend.

In bed I lay
Long past break of day,
For warm I am in there.

But rise I must
And meet the wind's gust
I will dress well for this.

I will wear a vest
I think that's best
And then a jumper or two.

With trousers fleecy
I'll meet the breezy
And chilling wind.

With boots on feet
The cold I'll meet
And gloves upon my hands.

Thus dressed
So blessed
We'll win through the day.

As winter cuts deeper
My heart bleeds too
For the moments of love
I had with you.
Our Spring was so happy
In morning's sweet dew.
We shared a tender secret
And all seemed new.
Our Summer was glorious
Our troubles were few.
Then Autumn came in
And discord grew.
Now in the Winter
All that was true
Has flown and gone
And left me no clue.
I have to move on
To a life that is new.

A tickling
And a trickling snow
Fell from a pewter sky.
People hurried to the shop,
For this is England
And the first sign of snow
Brings panic.

Snow is so infrequent,
We know not how to cope with it
When it comes.
We store up toilet rolls
And milk and soup and bread
For snow that lasts two days
And then melts away
As quickly as it came.