A LIFETIME
A lifetime of living, of taking and giving, and thinking of what lies in store…
A lifetime of growing, of learning and yearning, and searching for meaning and more…
Mid-century”s fleetings, of meetings and greetings, and pleasantries passed with next door.
Mid-century’s fadings, with new thoughts invading, while old keystones fall to the floor.
And moments of hearing, unhinging and fearing, and trying to understand why.
And sharing of sadness and grieving lost gladness, when life stares you dead in the eye.
Soul searching unending, relentless, unbending, and praying for help from on high.
Thus sailing together, the foulest of weather, yet straining to grasp the reply.
Through faith and believing in Love’s grace receiving, restoring the first to the last.
With the rudder restored, and the sails tightly trimmed, there’s an easing of strain on the mast…
Then suddenly calmness and reason returning, despite the storm’s ongoing blast.
Aloneness and sorrows now gone from tomorrows, and grieving’s a thing of the past.
God’s love consistent, unbounded, eternal, shines out from a terrible tree.
God’s grace triumphant, revealing, confirming, God’s Son loved and set us all free.
Jim Davis 2020
jimdaviscreativearts.ca
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HE PLACED ME ON HIS SHOULDERS
A Christmas Story
I was just the littlest lamb, a long, long, time ago. The stable door opened wide to fields outside, bright as snow. They staggered in, all tired and lame, the woman, man, and beast. Their journey long, the stable warm, … angel song, …a baby born. I was just the littlest lamb, nestled near in manger’s straw. They laid him close, and then I saw – … those eyes.
The wisdom, the enduring love, a fragile baby’s cry. Born to render the broken whole; Son of God, born to die. I tried to make a startled sound; my mother bade me hush. God’s gift to all humanity, … looked at me, … touched my soul. I was just the littlest lamb; I did not understand. I grew to be a restless ram: …my way, …my life, …my path.
I wandered from the flock some days, along a narrow way. The shadows grew up suddenly, and night replaced the day. The storm began with freezing rain, my ledge now slick with ice. A price to pay, two buried coins, an old unopened book. My cliff was sheer, my terror real, … and then I felt …His crook. Death slipped away beneath my feet – …as His strength swung me round.
Those eyes, the very eyes I saw the night when He was born. I was just the littlest lamb on that first Christmas morn. The wisdom, the enduring love, that touching of my soul; He lifted me, held me close. Then placed me on His shoulders broad, … firm and strong, … safe and warm. He placed me on His shoulders scarred; the storm howled, and death scowled. He placed me on His shoulders tall – …then carried His lamb home.
Jim Davis 2020
jimdaviscreativearts.ca
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GOD’S LOVE
O tiny ember burning in my heart,
When in time and space Your tenuous start?
Perhaps beyond the constructs of our minds,
A gift given to all of humankind?
Your motion waiting simply for command?
Your earthly finger writing in the sand?
The Alpha and Omega ever near;
Our purpose and a promise over fear?
Your love’s purpose clear, illumination won:
Abundant life through living in the Son.
And loving God: the reason for our being.
And loving all – all God’s embers seeing.
Each one a precious part still yet to be
A flame of God, if now our eyes will see.
Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, we pray.
Heralding in God’s bright eternal day.
Jim Davis 2021
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THE OLD COOKIE JAR
I sense a cookie jar, gathering dust, consigned to a high pantry pew.
Once full of treats and enticing thoughts, and a prominent kitchen view.
Sometimes mine and at other times yours, but the contents were never store made.
Just flour and sugar, some ginger and spice, all lovingly handled and laid.
The heat of our oven, the aroma so sweet; filling the place of our living.
Commingled senses, a jangle of passions: an exchange of taking and giving.
Never too many, never too few, and some eaten warm from the baking.
And others with tea, or secretly stolen, but only rarely alone.
Always shared wonder, always so yummy; oh my, how those years have all flown.
Now the pantry has boxes, and plastic-wrapped products, and a cookie jar – empty and waiting.
Jim Davis 2021
jimdaviscreativearts.ca
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SCALES FALLING
A bridge from nowhere to somewhere:
A crossing from fear to faith.
A span, mere moments or ages;
A passage from dusk to dawn.
Be the one crossing the river.
Be braver than most, by far.
Be the child running to Father;
Be thankful and hold Him close.
See how the table is turning;
See twisting of space and time.
See why the heartache kept growing –
See clearly, as the scales fall.
Don’t fret the tariff for crossing.
Don’t worry a price was paid.
Don’t hold your mistakes as sacred;
Don’t harbour the guilt and shame
East, the sun rises each morning!
East, mid-day’s light once held back.
East and west merging in newness;
East linking thoughts of the past.
Faith is a calling to newness.
Faith given to those who seek.
Faith and love healing the broken;
Faith bridging a walk with God.
Gone are the searches for meaning.
Gone missing the toll of bells;
Gone yet still strangely quite present.
Gone because ABBA’s within.
Jim Davis 2021
jimdaviscreativearts.ca
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LUNENBURG LADY Commentary
LUNENBURG LADY commemorates an extraordinary historical presence that once graced the Grand Banks and the hearts and minds of every Nova Scotian. She was a dockside working girl, to be sure, and she carried herself with pride. First to market and first before all, her fame would become the pride of a young emerging nation. Other pretenders could only give her chase, try as they might with their lilywhite wings. Oh sorrowful day, when she finally went down to the sea.
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Jim Davis 2021
jimdaviscreativearts.ca
LUNENBURG LADY (A Poem of the Bluenose)
Boys did you hear, of a glory told? Of a beauty on the sea?
Born of a mother with a broken mast, a queen of hearts to be.
So clean the lines, yet so full the holds, and masts that would skirt the sky,
And billowing wings to sail aloft, her plumbed so to lift and fly.
The work cold-hard, the souls all dear, a skipper famed for speed;
A carrying wind just shy of a gale, was all her wanted and needs.
Out to the Banks and the fishing grounds; first dories in, first done.
Then fly the catch home, fetch the higher price; bills paid to the very last one.
Well Gloucester beauties, with lilywhite sails, deep pockets craved the prize!
A fisher’s race, a working girl’s place; first challenged – and her did rise.
The skipper’s hand, his eye, his nerve,
And his Bluenose takes to wing.
Oh wondrous sway, and clean the cut, loosed – her makes the heart sing.
Men lust for fame and the gold it pans; but sailors live for the tack.
And the scudding clouds of a rising wind that hurries the sailors back.
Moored now and still, her long trick’s done, and her crew all safe and sound.
But gathering clouds of coal and steel, her sold – no thanks nor stay found.
Boys search your hearts, were they turned stone cold? Old codders, your tears don’t hide!
Burning black oil for a trollop’s toil, her once carried a nation’s pride.
So far from home, the masts long gone, pray what’s now become of she?
Oh sorrowful day off Baie les Cayes, broke, her went down to the sea.
So far from home, those masts long gone, pray what’s now become of she?
Oh sorrowful day off Baie les Cayes, broke, her went down to the sea.
Broke, her went down to the sea.
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Jim Davis 2021
jimdaviscreativearts.ca
HELP THE BROKEN SING
In the wee hours of the morning,
I wake and think of Thee.
And the pale of light’s first dawning:
A flood upon the sea.
And the sound of night’s still passing,
Is silence on the wing.
Are our lives mere waves of wanings?
… “Help the broken sing.”
As new shadows to forms forming,
While night shifts into day;
So the early songbird’s calling
Heralds light now in play.
And bars of cold old fears flashing.
Reset a trapping spring.
Will daybreak bring a new hope’s healing?
… “Help the broken sing.”
Your quiet smile – so heartwarming,
Now breaks my heart anew.
Your quiet gaze – from sad eyes falling,
Still fighting to get through.
Precious one, so many holding,
To highest thoughts please cling.
Oh loving God, are you hearing?…
… “Help the broken sing.”
Our Father…, it’s me now praying…,
Hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come, thy will be done,
Here, just as in Heaven.
Give us, daily, peace and healing
Your love alone can bring.
Hold us close while softly singing,
Help the broken sing.
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Jim Davis 2021
jimdaviscreativearts.ca
LINDA
Of all the sandy beaches that line the oceans wide,
Of all the rolling breakers that churn with every tide,
Of all the whipping winds that blow across the open sea,
What miracle of happiness placed you here with me?
Of all the briefest moments throughout the span of time,
Of all the intersections with every other line
Of all the sparks of knowing that ever shone in space,
Why the reasoning and consciousness that let us share this place?
Of all the spinning chances of every flashing wheel,
Of all the answered hopeful prayers or negotiated deals,
Of all the faith or none at all: beliefs or knowledge won,
I love to hold you, tenderly – my warming sun.
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Jim Davis 2021
jimdaviscreativearts.ca
IS THERE A PLACE FOR ME?
When I’ve walked ten thousand miles or seven times and more,
When I’ve slept a score of years – seen morning’s final star,
Old friends made and friendships torn or worn beyond repair,
With all I’ve done and all I’ve seen, is there hope or sorrow?
I’ve scrabbled for a few more years beyond a ringing bell.
Once glimpsed the joy of highest heaven; oft’ walked hell’s deepest reach.
Felt love and loved, scorn and scorned: human beyond compare!
Lived life’s cline, played each role – adrift upon the sea.
The currents pull all sailors down to thoughts below the waves,
Of unknown graves and broken hearts, and memories long gone.
Who saves the souls from true abyss within their darkest hour?
Whose voice cries out? Whose grace forgives? Is there a place for me?
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Jim Davis 2021
jimdaviscreativearts.ca
Jim Davis Creative Arts: Paintings, Poetry, Prose, and Commentary 