To Visit You Some Time

I'd like to visit you some time
And see the light of welcome in your eyes
As I walk through the door, the look that speaks of joy
For every second that we spend together
I'd like to visit you some time
To sit a while and listen as you tell me how your life has been
How it is now, and how you'd expected it to be
Back in the days when it was your job
To dream of greatness, because you were a kid
I'd like to visit you some time
To tend your wounded spirits, your sad flesh
Then smile as you thank me for my thoughtfulness
And tell me how much you look forward to my visits
I'd like to visit you some time
Knowing that the hour or two I gladly give you from my busy day
Is solid proof of my worth as a selfless human being
With a huge, compassionate heart
I'd like to visit you some time
And lift you out of your depression
By talking of the funny things I've seen
The silly conversations overheard on buses
I'd like to visit you some time
And as I leave, tell you and mean it
That I really, really wish I could stay longer
And that I'd be counting the hours until the next time
I'd like to visit you some time
And do us both a power of good
Celebrating a friendship that makes mere love
Seem pale and feeble by comparison
I'd like to visit you some time
Instead of spending twenty four hours of every day
Right here at your service, grudgingly doing the barest minimum
To keep us both going, while you lie there and wish I could do more
Care more, say the right things, wear the right expression
Fill you with enthusiasm from a boundless store of positivity
That drives away your misery without for a single moment
Seeming to trivialise your burdens
I want to run away right now
And build myself a life worth living
And when that is done
I'd really like to visit you some time.

Religion

On Monday through to Saturday
I often make the time to pray
I speak my worries and give voice
To all my little hopes and joys
And in despair or misery
My first words are, “Dear God, help me!”
I concentrate with all my might
To feel Him there, just out of sight
My trembling faith, now bright, now dim
Is just between myself and Him
The Trinity, the creed and such
Don’t seem to matter very much
And if the Bible on my shelf
Appears to contradict itself
As Dawkins and his ilk all say
Well, I don’t read it anyway
Not Monday through to Saturday

I feel a presence, whole and pure
And even though I can’t be sure
Exactly what its name may be
No matter, for it seems to me
That something powerful and great
Is there, concerned about my fate
So many times I could have died
But someone must be on my side
Because, although I often think
My ship of life is bound to sink
For all the times I’ve erred and sinned
Some kindly current, helpful wind
In guise of fluke or happenstance
Provides me with a fighting chance

So Monday through to Saturday
I do my best, but by the way
Enjoy such company as mocks
The bells and incense, candles, frocks
And scandals that we read about
Concerning folk who, though devout
Appear to be as flawed as those
Who never hear a church door close
Behind them, and then kneel in prayer
To something powerful out there

And yet, when Sunday comes around
Unfailingly I will be found
With humble heart and bended knee
Inside my local C. of E.
I sing the hymns and read the Book
And force myself to overlook
Whatever doubts I may recall…
On Sundays I believe it all

Will Hames
January 2009

Rescue

Last night, I prayed for rescue, for an answer to my pain
It wasn't fair, I told Him, all this trouble, all this strain
I cried I couldn't manage, I was weak and I was lost
I couldn't face the future and I couldn't meet the cost

I visualised a mighty hand that plucked me from the storm
And set me down upon a beach, where all was safe and warm
But then there boomed an awesome voice, I knew it came from Him:
"Get back into the water, son, you're learning how to swim!"

Will Hames, November 2008

Busy Man

He clearly is no thinker
Barely educated, little sense of humour
No way with words, no fine artistic skills
And yet he has his busyness, doing what he can
He wastes no time in dwelling on his limitations
Too absorbed in getting on with all the life he has
And who am I to look down on him
When my own mind and heart are filled
With all the things I cannot do?

Will Hames, November 2008

Who Rules the World?

She has her wants, and some of them are needs
But who can tell where needs end
And the whims begin?
She is so vulnerable, fragility her strength
For who can stand against the needy and say “No”
When “No” is nothing but the truth?

I have my wants, and some of them are needs
But all I crave is harmony
And so I let myself be ruled
Because to take a stand for what I know is right
Will lead to battles I’ve no stomach for
A world is shaped around the strongest will
And in her weakness
She is Queen

How long can this go on? How long before the whimsy
Eats away the very bedrock of our lives?
Seen from outside, I am the ruler of this little state
I have the health, the strength, the wisdom drawn from time
Among real people, real objectives, triumphs and disasters
Unafraid to go out into the world
Whenever need or fancy call me through the door
So all the obligations fall to me
But all the power I could bring to bear
To carve our lives into a noble form
Lies uncollected at her feet.

Will Hames, Nov. 2008

Life on the Edge

I live on the edge, I’m a man through and through
A bit of a rebel, between me and you
I use naughty words when there’s no one to hear ‘em
I’ve never done drugs but I once went quite near ‘em
I stroll in MacDonald’s without even booking
Make signs at the wife when I know she’s not looking
I live on the edge, I’m a man through and through
And no one tells me what to do

I live on the edge, I’m a free-thinking guy
I look my optometrist straight in the eye
I revel in things that are simply not done
“Don’t Walk On The Grass”? I prefer to not run
I wear a thick vest though we’ve got central heating
I’ll pay for a meal then run off without eating
I live on the edge, I’m a man through and through
And no one tells me what to do

I live on the edge in a state of high tension
I happily fly in the face of convention
When out in my Volvo I find it amusing
To fill parking meters I’m not even using
I smile at policemen to make ‘em all crosser
And laugh when they call me a sad little tosser
I live on the edge, I’m a man through and through
And I don’t care who knows it…(between me and you!)

Will Hames

The Hippo

Don't ever bath with a hippo
He won't leave you room for a shrug
He'll keep all the bubbles up his end
While you get the end with the plug

To bath with a hippo's not clever
You need something more your own size
He'll panic and squash you whenever
He gets the shampoo in his eyes

An elephant's worse, I can tell you
The water all goes up his trunk
But don't ever bath with a hippo
And don't let him have the top bunk

Will Hames