Tag Archives: agnosticism

Going to Church

I keep meaning to go

To the church I so

Often pass. It’s gravestones

Say, “skin and bone

Must fade away”.

So I know

I will go

To church one day.


Caught in useless thought
On a sunny day,
I entered that place
Of light and shade.
That unknown space
Where we
Are made
To face
Our own mortality.

Church Bells

On hearing the bells chime
I think on time.
Although there is no
Clock in the church tower
To measure my brief hour.

There Are No Gods

There are no gods.
Men are but sods
In the end
My friend.

Yet we strive
To stay alive.
And some pretend
That there are gods.
But we are sods
In the end
My friend.

Though, the poet’s work may survive
Long after his eyes
Have closed.
And, who knows,
Perchance he may find, at his end
That we are more than mere

Yet I fear
That there are no gods.
And we are but sods
In the end
My friend.

The Tape

I can not escape
This constant tape
Running in my head.

When I am dead
The words said
Will go
I know
Not where,
Other than those
That from paper stare
At my readers from the printed page.

I shall be beyond rage
Or any other emotion,
Lost in a great ocean
Of what?
Shall I know it not?
The tape will, finally, stop


You were going to evensong.
I wanted to go along
But felt shy
To ask (I don’t know why).

An agnostic sitting in a pew
Next to you,
That wouldn’t do!
Though I know
That I wouldn’t be the first sceptic to attend
And pretend

Our life here is brief
And religion softens grief
For the believer knows
That he goes
To a place
Where God’s grace
As sweet water does fall
On all.

In the singing of hymns
We forget our sins
And cough due to the dust
From ancient books,
While God looks
With a frown
For he knows our lust …

Perhaps I will
Next time go along
To evensong
And perchance find a still
Place where God’s grace
Does fall
On all.
Though it may not be so
Nonetheless I shall go
To evensong.

Happy Christmas!

I would like to wish all my readers a very happy Christmas. May your Christmas be full of peace and joy.

My own view of Christmas is best summed up by the poet, Thomas Hardy, in his poem “The Oxen”. As with Hardy, I would go down to the “barton” “hoping it might be so”.

Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.
“Now they are all on their knees,”
An elder said as we sat in a flock
By the embers in hearthside ease.
We pictured the meek mild creatures where
They dwelt in their strawy pen,
Nor did it occur to one of us there
To doubt they were kneeling then.
So fair a fancy few would weave
In these years! Yet, I feel,
If someone said on Christmas Eve,
“Come; see the oxen kneel,
“In the lonely barton by yonder coomb
Our childhood used to know,”
I should go with him in the gloom,
Hoping it might be so.