Alan Garner

ALPHABETICAL COLLECTION

Poems A–Z

Explore Alan’s published poems in alphabetical order. Read a poem here or follow its category to discover more from the collection.

  • THE CREATION

    Dark Rough Cut Raw

    A vivid dusk poem imagining clouds as God’s passing breath.

    Read the written poem

    Dark Rough Cut Raw

    As the day

    dips

    draws into night,

    Great God Almighty

    blows smoke rings

    across the nephelosphere:

     

    Old Rubbed Red

    Grey Smoke Stack

    and

    Dark Rough Cut Raw.

    For an eternal fleeting moment

    they skeet across the sky

     

    and then God coughs.

     

  • THE CREATOR

    Eternal God

    A thoughtful poem exploring God’s nature, mystery, and transcendence.

    Read the written poem

    Eternal God

     

    I sit here at my table as I ponder on His Deity.

    The weighty textbook by my hand refers to His aseity:

    His self-existent independence – at that point we lose the laity,

    As they dream of beef and Yorkshires with a relish close to gaiety.

     

    The impassibility of God implies that He is quite immutable;

    Untouched by sin or change within: so … truly unimputable;

    And even if we choose to ponder, he remains inscrutable,

    His sovereign self-determination clearly indisputable.

     

    The ineffable, inestimable, immeasurable infinity

    Of the attributes, the character, the nature of divinity

    Anticipate in me the total lack of an affinity

    With a wholly Other Kind of Being: a three-in-one concinnity.

     

    He is omnipresent, omnipotent, his faculty omniscient:

    In each and every circumstance His wise foreknowledge prescient.

    Eternal God transcendent, yet through Christ revealed as immanent.

    While we await His Sovereign State… is His Parousia imminent?

     

    At every turn I find myself appalled by my aphasia:

    So lost for words, I weep, I’d almost welcome euthanasia.

    Benevolent and bearded: white; so typical of Caucasia,

    My Eternal God. But what of those who worship out in Africa, Eurasia?

     

    Ehyeh asher ehyeh is my patronym eternal

    my patronym eternal

    patronym eternal

    GOD

    Ehyeh asher ehyeh is my patronym eternal

     

    I AM WHO I AM

  • THE CREATION

    Flocons de Neige

    A lyrical meditation.

    Read the written poem

    Flocons de Neige

    Down

    down

    from the bellyofasky

    rich with the

    spryriches of the

    white

    the brightandbeautiful

    the alltoobrighttobear

    we anticipate

    the inviernal

     

  • THE GARDENERS

    God Spoke to Adam

    The Naming of the animals. An interactive poem … GUESS THE RHYME TIME God spoke to Adam and this is what he said: “Please name the animals before you go to bed. Big ones get long names; small ones should be short.” So, Adam had a thinking and this is what he thought.

    Read the written poem

    God spoke to Adam

    God spoke to Adam and this is what he said:

    “Please name the animals before you go to bed.

    Big ones get long names; small ones should be short.”

    So, Adam had a thinking and this is what he thought.

     

    Ants and aardvarks, bees and bats,

    Dogs and dinosaurs, crabs and cats,

    Eels and elephants, foxes and frogs,

    Giraffes and goats, hyaenas and hogs.

     

    Iguanodons, the ibex, the jackal in pyjamas,

    Kangaroos, koalas, leopards and llamas.

    Magpies, nightingales, ostriches and owls,

    Pterodactyls, penguins and other strange fowls.

     

    Quails and quetzals, rabbits and moles,

    Sheep and stoats and toads and voles,

    Unicorns, wolverines, zebras and yaks,

    Vultures and vipers with markings on their backs.

     

    After naming them, Adam went to bed.

    He slept till morning and then God said:

    “Good job, Adam. I like your choices.

    Now tame them and train them and listen to their voices!”

     

  • THE APPRENTICES

    Gone Fishing Peter#1

    The Call of Peter As you stand there on the sand, Gazing down a golden strand, I ask you, ‘Are you conscious that upon this beach A figure draws a crowd to hear him teach?’ And you are mending fishing nets just out of reach Listening with half an ear: “This one can really preach!” But what has this to do with you and Why has he turned your way, beckoning with his hand?

    Read the written poem

    Gone Fishing – Peter #1 – Shards from the Pot

     

    As you stand there on the sand,

    Gazing down a golden strand,

    I ask you, ‘Are you conscious that upon this beach

    A figure draws a crowd to hear him teach?’

     

    And you are mending fishing nets just out of reach

    Listening with half an ear: “This one can really preach!”

    But what has this to do with you and

    Why has he turned your way, beckoning with his hand?

     

    He asks to use your boat: it isn’t all that grand

    But still you push out just enough, though none of this was planned.

    He talks at length; he holds them spellbound, each

    Is listening, rapt, as though he stood there offering a golden peach.

     

    “Push out. Push on. We’re going fishing.” “Bleach

    my barnacles,” you say. “We’ve fished all night. And ne’er a catch.

    Still, if you say so, Master. Now that we’re clear of land

    I’ll drop the nets again. Hey, Andrew. Get this old tub manned.”

     

    You drop the nets. The swarming waters seethe at His command.

    The nets begin to break. You call your partners. This is no bland

    Suggestion. Indigestion grips you. Bile rises. You fall at his knees.

    “Depart from me. Lord, let me be. I’m weak and sinful. Go now, please.”

     

    “Up. On your feet. I do not use to tease.

    From now on you will catch men. These

    Fish can be left behind. Up now. Stand.

    And follow me, you and your merry band.”

     

    Do you obey? Follow? Leave your fish, your family, your friends?

    Walk behind the Master, listening, learning, going where he sends?

    Not fish-fishing but catching men. Daring to stretch out half a hand.

    Or do you sit back, navel gazing, contemplating the specific gravity of sand?

     

    Luke 5

     

  • THE SETTLERS

    In a Time of Famine

    Elkanah and his family speak out about leaving Bethlehem, the House of Bread. The book of Ruth. “’Scuse me, Sir. You got any bread? That’s what I said. That’s what I said. ’Scuse me, sir. I’ll soon be dead. That’s what I said. I did.”

    Read the written poem

    In a Time of Famine: Leaving the House of Bread (Book of Ruth)

     

    Elkanah

    “’Scuse me, Sir. You got any bread?

    That’s what I said. That’s what I said.

    ’Scuse me, sir. I’ll soon be dead.

    That’s what I said. I did.”

     

    Naomi

    “’Scuse me, Ma’am. You got any ja’am?

    Try to stay calm. No need for alarm.

    “’Scuse me, Ma’am. No food at the farm.

    Need to stay warm, I do.”

     

    Mahlon

    “’Scuse me, Mate. I’m all of a state.

    Look at me plate. Days since I ate.

    Got any cheese that a poor man can grate?

    Guess it’s me fate, I’d say.”

     

    Chilion

    “’Scuse me, Miss. Give us a kiss.

    Got any fish? Oh, how delish.

    Oh, how I wish for a fish on a dish.

    That is my wish, it is.”

     

    Elkanah

    “’Scuse me, my Lord. Prices have soared.

    Just can’t afford to not go abroad.

    Food on the board. Stomachs are stored.

    Can’t be ignored. We’re off.”

     

    Maybe they thought bread can be bought,

    Happiness sought, some comfort wrought?

    But they’d been taught: trust in the Lord.

    Maybe they ought… to have waited?

     

  • THE CREATION

    Inthetimebeforetime

    A contemplative creation poem tracing God’s work from eternity to eternity.

    




    Read the written poem

    Inthetimebeforetime
     
    Inthetimebeforetime 
     
    Nothing was 
    Only
    Someone
    Who was 
    Taking whatwasnot
    and
    making whatisnow
     
    Turning
    Darkness into Burning
    Wetness into Weeping
    Dryness into Standing
     
    Filling
    Light with sun ’n moon
    Sea ‘n sky with fish ‘n fowl
    Land with vegetation ‘n critters
    (All his own creation)
    Bringing
    Woman to her man
     
    Seeing
    Then that
    All was good
     
    restingwaiting
    inthetimebeyondtime
    

    

    

    

  • 

    

    THE CREATION
    



    Kiss Me Quick
    




    A vivid creation poem imagining humanity’s first breath and awakening.
    




    




    Read the written poem

    Kiss Me Quick
    Early morning
    	the kneeling
    			     GOD
    	grubbies His Hands
    		in ground dust
    	fingers the clay
    		    moulding
    		    forming
    			the adam
    		    licking his lips
    	in anticipation
    		lovingly lingering
    			the Kiss of Life
    	a suscitation
    		a sneeze
    the eidolon
    Illustration from the poem
    	awakes										Genesis 2	
     
    

    

    

    

  • 

    

    THE WANDERERS
    


    Let my people 'GO'.
    


    Another poem that missed the cut.

“Let my people GO, Pharaoh. Let my people GO.”
“I won’t let your people GO, Moses. I won’t let them GO.”
    



    Read the written poem
    Let my people ‘GO’
    “Let my people GO, Pharaoh. Let my people GO.”
    “I won’t let your people GO, Moses. I won’t let them GO.”
     
    Aaron holds out Moses’ stick: the water turns to BLOOD.
    Pharaoh’s Wise Men do the same. So that’s no GOOD.
     
    “Let my people GO, Pharaoh. Let my people GO.”
    “I won’t let your people GO, Moses. I won’t let them GO.”
     
    Again, he holds out Moses’ rod: the land is filled with FROGS 
    In the bedroom, in the bathroom, in the buckets, in the BOGS.
     
    “Let my people GO, Pharaoh. Let my people GO.”
    “I won’t let your people GO, Moses. I won’t let them GO.”
     
    Aaron strikes the floor: the dust is turned to GNATS
    Biting people, biting creatures, biting Pharaoh’s sacred CATS. 
     
    “Let my people GO, Pharaoh. Let my people GO.”
    “I won’t let your people GO, Moses. I won’t let them GO.”
     
    Soon the land is filled with flies except in one small PART.
    Pharaoh and his people suffer. The JEWS are set APART.
     
    “Let my people GO, Pharaoh. Let my people GO.”
    “I won’t let your people GO, Moses. I won’t let them GO.”
     
    Then the cattle, sheep and donkeys, horses and camels sicken, DIE.
    But not in the land where the Israelites dwell. I wonder WHY?
     
    “Let my people GO, Pharaoh. Let my people GO.”
    “I won’t let your people GO, Moses. I won’t let them GO.”
     
    Moses takes soot from the fires of Egypt. Tosses it into the AIR.
    BOILS break out on their faces and hands.  Stinking BOILS EVERYWHERE.
     
    “Let my people GO, Pharaoh. Let my people GO.”
    “I won’t let your people GO, Moses. I won’t let them GO.”
     
    Thunder and lightning, storm clouds and rain. Gigantic pieces of HAIL.
    Anything, anyone out in the fields is destroyed.  All the early crops FAIL.
     
    “Let my people GO, Pharaoh. Let my people GO.”
    “I won’t let your people GO, Moses. I won’t let them GO.”
     
    God sends a terrible plague of locusts. They eat everything they can FIND.
    Pharaoh begs Moses to send them away. God carries them off in a powerful WIND.
     
    “Let my people GO, Pharaoh. Let my people GO.”
    “I won’t let your people GO, Moses. I won’t let them GO.”
     
    For three days, thick darkness covers the land. No sign at all of the SUN.
    People are terrified. The Sun is their god. What has Moses DONE?
     
    “Let my people GO, Pharaoh. Let my people GO.”
    “I won’t let your people GO, Moses. I won’t let them GO.”
     
    Before they can go:  PASSOVER. The blood of a lamb on the DOOR.
    Safely protected, while Pharaoh’s first son lies dead on the FLOOR.
     
    Finally… Pharaoh tells Moses to GO: “Take your people and all of your CATTLE.
    “My gods –  defeated. Your God was too strong. You win. We have lost this BATTLE.”
    A.R. Garner for Bethany Sunday School 
    

    

    

  • 

    

    THE PEREGRINATORS
    


    Make My Lips Tick
    


    Joseph pays the price for refusing his new mistress's blandishments. 🙁

“Joseph. Joseph.
Be my man.
Kiss me. Kiss me.
Yes, you can.”

“Mrs P,
I will not kiss you.
If you left
I would not miss you.
Leave me. Leave me.
Let me be.
I will not kiss you,
Mrs P.”
    


    



    Read the written poem
    Make My Lips Tick
     
    “Joseph. Joseph.
    Be my man.
    Kiss me. Kiss me.
    Yes, you can.”
     
    “Mrs P,
    I will not kiss you.
    If you left
    I would not miss you.
    Leave me. Leave me.
    Let me be.
    I will not kiss you,
    Mrs P.”
     
    Mrs P 
    Was keen on Joseph.
    And she thought it
                  mean of Joseph
    To be loyal 
    To his master,
    Mister High-and-Mighty
    Potty
    Far away from home
    (And spotty),
    Playing royal soldiers 
    with the king.
     
    “He would never 
    know a thing
    about it.
    Do not doubt it,
    Joseph, Joseph,
    be my man.
    Kiss me. Kiss me
    While you can.”
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Mr P 
    had chosen badly,
    Gladly 
    Married Mrs Potty.
    He was absolutely
    Dotty:
    Doted on her;
    Over heels and head
    In love;
    Bragged and boasted
    Of her beauty;
    Called her
    Secretly
    His Little Tooty Fruity.
     
    Sadly
    Mrs Tooty Fruity
    – such a cutie –
    Did not care to
    Do her duty
    By her
    Little Teasy Weasy.
    She was much too 
    free and easy
    with her favours;
    She would eye up
    Slave or sentry,
    Groom or gentry
    In the garden,
    In the entry.
    She would whisper,
     
    “Kiss me. Kiss me.
    Yes, you can.”
     
    Only Joseph ever said,
    “Dismiss me.
    You won’t miss me.”
     
    Only Joseph ever
    Ran.
     
    Left his cloak and 
    Ran.
    Mrs P?
    She popped a gasket:
    Threw a basket at the cat;
    Raged and ranted;
    Chanted curses in Egyptian
    On the mat.
    All the while she
    Spat out
    Vile and vicious verses
    Calling Joseph
    This and That.
     
    What is worse is
    Mrs Potty
    Cracked her makeup
    In her madness
    All her beauty seen
    In all its badness,
    Screamed:
    “Wake up,
    You servants.
    Here. Come quickly.
    Look at this:
    The cloak of
    Mister
    Perfect Joseph.
    Tried to kiss the
    Mistress of the House.
    Got as close up
    as he could.
    Before I screamed.
    as any woman would.
     
    When the
    Master of our House
    returns,
    Mister Joseph learns
    what fate befalls
    a slave
    who craves a kiss
    of Mistress Potiphar
    within her own four walls.”
    Well…
    What could Mr Potty say?
    It had been an awful day:
    Drilling soldiers by the dozen;
    Lunching with a distant cousin;
    Not what Potty would have chosen
    to come home to: ‘Kiss and Tell’
    And Tittle Tattle.
    He’d have rather fought 
    a battle with the Sphinx.
     
    Still…
    The Little Minx prevailed.
     
    Joseph:
    he was gaoled;
    could have wept and
    could have wailed;
    could have railed against
    the Lord
    but didn’t.
     
    Trusted God
    and waited.
     
    Knew that kissing Mrs P
    was grossly overrated.
     
    And 
    In time
    he found that he was fated –
    In a Calvinistic way –
    In God’s plan –
    to save the world he knew
    from famine.
     
    All because 
    he ran.