Tag Archives: agnosticism

Happy Christmas

At this time of year, I am reminded of Thomas Hardy’s poem “The Oxen” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=83cHvz5u39s


Hardy recollects “elders” talking about the oxen kneeling on Christmas Eve to worship Christ. He then goes on to say that few would now believe such things, but ends by saying that where he to be asked to go and see the animals kneeling he would go “hoping it might be so”.


As an agnostic (or, perhaps a cowardly atheist), I share Hardy’s view. I to would go to see the oxen kneel “hoping it might be so.”


A very happy Christmas to all of my readers. May your Christmas be full of warmth and happiness.



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.