Welcome to my blog...whatever image springs to mind, be it a hippopotamus, Tigger, red-haired Highland cattle, or a simple kitchen table, 'Unless a Seed' is a four-legged creature. My hope is that having read a Book Review, a Poem, or a What is a Christian? or some random post in Everything Else, you will be kind enough to leave a comment or a short reply. And I hope you enjoy reading its contents
What is a Christian?
Book, Podcast, Film, and Blog Reviews
Poetry
For Writers, Writing and Everything Else
The Bicycle Poems (ii) Seven Ages of the Bicycle
The second poem in a short series of Bicycle Poems
The Bicycle Poems (i)The Puncture
The first of a few parable poems on the theme of bicycles
The Zebedee Files – finale
The final part of a short series of poems about the unlikely bible hero, Zebedee.
My website/blog www.unlessaseed.com has had an MOT and service and is ready to hit the road once again with some improvements
Time to re-launch this website with a few improvements after its annual MOT
The Zebedee Files
The second Zebedee file. In the frame: the sons of thunder…and their mother.
The Zebedee Files
I doubt many have Zebedee on list a of heroes. Maybe it’s time to lick our pencils?
I broke a mug
This morning I swept a mug off the draining board and it broke into a few pieces on the floor. The poem will tell its own story.
Steam on the Windowpane
A fictional piece that slid into place after the phrase ‘steam on the windowpane’ lodged itself on a post-it. It’s the reader who ascribes meaning, the author just starts the ball rolling.
Lost & Found
Stereotyping isn’t particularly clever but I hope you don’t balk at its use here and can enjoy the point of the poem…even if you are a Lost & Found Officer and feel aggrieved at my description!
Growing Towards the Light
Growing Towards the Light was inspired by the mundane act of turning a geranium around so a different side could get the light
It’s 9pm, Bristol
9pm, back garden, under trees overhanging from the wood, whisky and cigar and stillness
Bluebells on the Beach
Beach Poem iii
In the wood behind my house, April means bluebells. They arrive, seemingly, overnight. Somehow an image emerged of bluebells on the fringes of a pebble beach. One thing led to another.