To create something

What is that boy, you've created something new?
Well that's fantastic, I'm so proud of you
With that last statement being so nearly true
To create is dangerous boy, did no one say?
You can't just make something then go on your way
You're invested now stay, see what I have to say

To create is risky, get out of this game
If you don't you'll feel naught but shame
For trying to stand out, not be the same
Trust me, this game you should not wish to play
So stop right now you'll receive no praise
Oh, much better to regret it for the rest of your days

Oh, you have spent so long, you have worked so hard
You have overcome adversity when the way has been barred
Now you poured your heart into a creation, you are such a card
Because you think the difficult bit to be behind
Well, buckle up boy, you had better change your mind
Because that is not the reality that you are ever going to find

To create is risky, get out of this game
If you don't you'll feel naught but shame
For trying to stand out, not be the same
Trust me, this game you should not wish to play
So stop right now you'll receive no praise
Oh, much better to regret it for the rest of your days

Release your creation boy, your public await!
Put it out in the world and embrace the hate
Your trainings in station, so don't be late
What you've made is surely offensive
Or a copy or flawed so get apprehensive
You took the risk, now get on the defensive

To create is risky, get out of this game
If you don't you'll feel naught but shame
For trying to stand out, not be the same
Trust me, this game you should not wish to play
So stop right now you'll receive no praise
Oh, much better to regret it for the rest of your days

...

Dear Sir. I'm afraid I must ardently protest
See I know you're only saying what you know best
But I've found every creation is worth the invest

You get hit hard, I know that to be true
But every creation is just a reflection of you
Worth the perspiration for any person who enjoyed it too

To create is risky, but now I'm in this game
Sure I'll go through my fair share of shame
It's not because I'm trying to not be the same

What a beautiful thing is the monument in fate

To the strive and toil that marks this date

With the unique thing, existing only when you decided to create

I'm a Christian

I am a Christian, but I am not an evangelist.

See, I do believe, I find beauty in the bounty of creation, and without hesitation (or even much provocation) I can say why I find it amazing we exist.

It's had an impact on my life, minimised my strife, is important for if I ever seek out a wife, and that my faith is never something I have missed.

But that's exactly it, it's been ever present never evanescent simply a part of my element and evident in more ways than I could ever list.

I'm not sure I could ever do without, and so I'm scared to shout to preach aloud, though I'm allowed, and truly proud, but too much of an analyst

See, I never enter argument without indicant that I myself could find I could change mind were I too unwind and find myself an unwanton errorist

I care too deeply, too invested in the answer, to be tested, lest I'm bested, not in jest but in a way which strikes me as a theorist.

And yet, that's nearly all that I encounter as a doubter I will shout the protestation that "I'm still not sure about this"

And so it goes. All around me know and show certainty and thus I stand awkwardly in piety for myself that while I do believe as a Christian in Christ and all his gifts.

I am not an evangelist.

A friend in a strange place

It's one of the nicest things I've got to do
Be a friend to someone a little like you
You know the situation, go somewhere new
Scared about what you're going to go through

Not sure if people are friends or rival
On your toes from point of arrival
You're being judged, it feels the whole while
I'll be the friendly face and smile

It's not much effort, I swear that here
To realise if someone is feeling fear
To just be kind, and tease them out of the shell
Especially if you remember going through that hell

As they come and go, replaced with many more
To be kind to all who walk through that door
It's similar for you, but unique for them
Worth the effort to be a port in the mayhem


For the past three years, I've helped out at Oxford interviews. Mostly, that's simply involved sitting  down with applicants and chatting to them. I've really enjoyed it - you can see how nervous they are, but all of them are brilliantly smart and passionate about something. Even if they're fairly reasonably scared and a little withdrawn initially, helping them enjoy themselves and be more comfortable is always rewarding. 

Zebra

An animal on the street is must curious
Because usually you find them furious
Cars honking at them from both ways
Doesn't help to alleviate delays
Equine was the creature that I saw
Four legs stood on tarmac floor
Giving no sign of trying to move
Happily painted in paved road grooves
I'd been stood a while at the scene
Just wondering what it could mean
Key to this scene is that I waited
Let the scene progress as it was fated
Making no attempt to startle the beast
Not tempted to approach, and become feast
Obviously this irritated those at the wheel
Politely yelling if I was real
Quite clear, I pointed at the danger
Realising I had to help the stranger
Slowly, carefully, I explained clear
That stripes on the road gave me fear
Understanding nothing, he started to yell
Very loudly that I could go to hell
Walking out his car door to shout
X-ing the road to engage in the bout
"You an idiot, you fool" (He shouted to chafe)
Zebra crossings are perfectly safe

Flight

I've never had wings.
I've never felt the wind.
Yet for what I have known.
I may well have flown.

One time, when I was five, I ran really fast.
Everyone around gaped and gasped as I galloped past
I leapt onto the bench in front of me and pushed down
Nor the lack of height nor the impact could make me frown

Age twelve, older, wiser, I did slightly better
All I simply did was to pen my predicament in a letter
Attach it with twine to the leg of something which could fly
And feel my insides and my words jump high

One year ago, actually, on this very day, I
tried to see if I could touch the sky
I got very close, by climbing the tallest ladder I could find
(Or at least, I got quite close in my mind)

Then, in fact, I tried once more just last week
I am sad to say that my arms were too weak
Though I flapped up and down, it just wasn't enough
As just a sadly (un-avian) ball of muscle and fluff

But what can I take from there steps into the unknown
For I still can't really say by any measure that I've flown
But I still ignore the doubters, and those with contempt.
For after all, I've tried. And the pleasure's in the attempt