Doug Blair

Doug Blair Poems

Call me a church mouse

Yep, generations of ‘em
...

I could scarce believe my ears
As the Roman soldier said:
“You there, stranger, lift that cross,
Follow Jesus, good as dead.”
...

He came to do his Father’s will,
This quiet man of Nazareth;
At thirty years he pondered still
The mission that would mean his death.
...

Oh Santiago, back again

For days sore missed at sea
...

I would see him at three thirty
On the street beneath my flat.
Kids would call him strange and dirty
Like a mouse plagued by stray cats.
...

My slim bark, my slim bark

Glides smoothly cross the lake.
...

I launch the kite at the first real burst of wind.
Colourful and dancing it decorates the sky.
Up and up to the realm of angels.
I seemingly with it. Flying.
...

Sure an' 'tis a grand day

Me barrow full of goods
...

We love it here
As the Sundays pass
With the smiles galore
With the rich stained glass
...

I cannot beat the trails,
Or trim the wind-taut sails,
Or pitch a camp beside the dusty road.
I cannot tame the crowd,
...

Eighteen years stooped over

Like a bowing fern
...

When I think of the choice
That you made before the world
In the portals of Glory, answered “yes”.
I am moved at the centre
...

Mine eyes run down with waters

I see the judgment come
...

We take the barbs

And try to keep on smiling
...

Beside Oneself
...

Sound Hope in the Bleating

Would to God
I knew the answers
...

They seem hopeful
As down the Mount of Olives
You descend.
And this a small part
...

In the nineteenth
The singer began
With the heavenlies
God first said many a Jew.
...

Sun and moon and magnet
Guide their awesome flight
Winging over mountains
Quiet field by night.
...

Last night was a bad one
Her tummy turned and sour
And terror screamed
And then it moaned
...

Doug Blair Biography

Living in Waterloo, Ontario. Married to Hilary with 2 children Lauren and Jordan. Inspirational blogger and poet since 2008. Shipper and Health and Safety Professional in metal fab plant. Hiker. Photographer. Newsboy for Jesus.)

The Best Poem Of Doug Blair

Church Mouse

Call me a church mouse

Yep, generations of ‘em

Here, under the oaken arches

And that golden and blue glass.

Long quiet pause

Day after day

We like that

Place all to ourselves

Except for one singing woman

With a mop

And a quiet man in black

Sits on a bench with open book

Drops to his knees often

Down where we are.

Couple a’ times he near

Squashed me

But he didn’t know.

Seems gentle and trustworthy

Others before him

Mostly the same, my folks tell me.

…No, I take that back!

Couple of them struck real fear

Into some of the women and kids.

Those few with the nasty smirk

Never looked at the picture windows

Never sat in the bench

To get real quiet.

Sometimes I climbed

All the way up to that

One picture with those fluffy critters

And the kindly man with the staff

(Bearing subscription Ezekiel 34) .

Did it twice when

The place was crowded.

Loud sounds, blended voices

Clapping hands, fun apparently.

Then all got real quiet

And the man with the black coat

Spoke, spoke long

And hard, and raised up that Book.

My siblings were busy out back

Sampling the cakes and fruit.

But I had the better portion

In this lovely quiet and focus

And that Book seemed to be

So very important.

He even pointed up

To the glass picture behind me

Thought I might get noticed.

Crouched down real low.

Nice people, mostly.

Somewhat confused.

They might come more often

If you ask me.

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