davehood

Poetry of Dave Hood

England

chabod5652@yahoo.co.uk

Time Tarries

In the rumble of the thunder

In the ringing of the rain

With the storm clouds clap their pealing

My time begins again

With a hand clap that will deafen

That will cause the foe to flee

And the darkness and the death light

Receives no sympathy

In the doing of my handiwork

In the dawning of My land

In the moment I’m majestic

In the season are men damned

Never never never never

Never more to bring repeal

In the daylight of the wonder

All will no more steal

But will rise as if forgiven

And will bow with tenderness

The season of the Saviour

Is called at His Behest

And many a wandering nomad

And many a bruised lost flock

Will come again to Zion

Where they suffer no more loss

And there’s a great rejoicing

And there’s a rising sun

And there the golden rainbow

My age will just begun

Hab 2:3 For the vision [is] yet for an appointed time, but at the end it shall speak, and not lie: though it tarry, wait for it; because it will surely come, it will not tarry.

The khan

In a stable so bare

With no one to care

Save a man and a woman alone

The prince of all doves

Has come from above

To save all souls from Rome

Yet cradled He lay

In the arms of the hay

With a shoulder of stone for his head

A hollow concave

Embraced as a grave

For all that lay ahead

No pictures, no glare

Of earths treasures there

No ornament, no four walls of gold

No honour bestowed in the chill of mans cold

For Gods Great Child of Old.

Perhaps if we may, cast a glance this ones way

To see how He came from above

Five fingers of grace,

not measured in haste

fits for man, Gods glove of love

ignore if we may

all he said as he stayed

amongst us the cattle that there,

corralled Him from cold

Gods wisdom of old, encircled this heavenly lair

To be bludgeoned, betrayed

He came to man for this way

Sins sorrow with sighing to bear

In the arms that enfold, Gods story is told

Human hands spread wide in care

Dare believe if u may

This Christmas, His Day

Expounds from above for mans hope

For without this Gods grace

There would be no human race

And no dove in this stable of love.

Beauty for Ashes

This poem is a result of a vision I was given, very recently, whilst

having fellowship over the phone with a friend.

I saw a night scene. It was of a dark, desolate, dead and sandy esert. There was no life and the main feature looking down from above, was a

conical shaped volcano.It had a narrow, yet perfectly formed circular

mouth.

I heard the word proceed from the mouth of God, recently I have began to

call this the sonic sound. This word was first spoken BEFORE this scene I

was looking at was formed or even existed. This word was spoken by Him

from before the beginning of time and had travelled across the ages, aeon's

and history of man and had found landing in the desolate desert place

described...for such a time as this...the Day of God prepared for the night of man.

I heard and felt a rumbling, a shaking and as I looked up, now from the ground

to the lip of the volcano. Gods word had come through the underground

passages underneath, leading upward to the volcano's mouth and had erupted through the mouth and exploded high above the summit of the volcano. I then saw the droplets, sparkling droplets from the explosion fall to the ground around, landing in the barren sands circumventing the volcano. Everywhere the droplets fell, immediately life and lush colourful vegetation rose up, in thick and abundant foliage.The Garden of God

in the desert of man.

Gods word had been loosed before the world was formed from within Him, within the City of Light and for this time it has been measured to bloom and prosper.

My friend who is writing the article calls it the Sands of Time, but I

call this poem, Beauty for Ashes. May you be blessed in reading it

-*- Beauty for Ashes -*-

A desert dark and oh so blank

No flower, no shrub, no root or branch

But bare and desolate, sooted with death

One wonders what will happen next

Atop a dark and conical hill

A tremor trembles, bringing thrill

A sound so near, yet distant still

Rocks the night of volcanic mill

A voice, a voice so deep and round

Amid the groaning of earths gown

A rumble, grumble, a low bemoan

As the voice of Heaven finds its home

Through aeon, age and earths history night

The word from God has set alight

Both earthly and the heavenly sphere

The sonic sound its listener hear

From further back, before the still,

Of no creation formed to fill

No light, no dark, no earth nor heavens

Yet You have sought Your words append

Upon my earthly ear delight

Filled my sound till I am spent

With deep to deep and deeper still

Your base in me does thrill and fill

As I adore this quivering hill,

its shaking lip and mouth not still

And I below a seer am

Of heavens love, spoken command

I see your word upon landscape fall

Shot in the air, creation to call

And drop like dew, Your fine works here

The firework of Your love is clear

Upon the death of our dust You fall

The words of life the clay to claim

And where You touch the earth so bare

a Life from You is born and lain

No more the dust the desolate earth

No more the dread and dying berth

But life and light and colour of you

Becomes the bier of heavens dew

No dark, no dismal signature signed

For You have sent Your word to here

Transforming through earths underground

Through ages, aeons the path is found

To You, Your host, in the City of Light

Has undertaken for mans plight

And as in life Your words fulfill

Today, You joy in its entire thrill

To God be the glory,for both word and sight

and spirit and sound

Dave Hood

Loves Power

“You are my Lady and I Am your Man”

Loves power that holds us, the creation in span.

Love is the power that created it all,

Love is the power, whose suns never fall.

Loves the power that moves the sea and the tides,

Love is the power that turns the stars in their sky.

Love fills the emptiness, the disorder in me,

It is love that makes sense in both me and in thee.

It is love that blows my sails ‘cross the sea,

Love is the face of a friend close to me.

That places my Father in all that I see,

Love fills the feelings I find inside me.

That loves if I flounder, or fail to see,

Loves soon and not later, not never to be.

Love is the minutes I find in my sleep,

Love is the muscle, causing my heart to beat

Love is a flavour, a taste of Divine,

Love is my neighbour, the law of design.

Love is a lasting savour of You,

Love is the taste of Your colour and hue.

Love has no fear which cannot divide

Love is a Saviour drawn to my side.

Love is my mater, my pater, my friend,

Love is my resource that’s never to end.

Love is a light with no filter but you,

So constant, no flicker, whose radiance is true.

From the mist of the morning, to the moon of my night

My pleasure, my moment, has birth in your sight.

Like starlight I linger, but my star never fails,

My mover, my shaker, my Maker of Sails.

My measure, my breaker, my might and my all,

My morning, my mentor, my Master who calls.

YOU ARE

You are higher than the mountains

you are deeper than the sea

you are greater than the universe

yet you are close to me

You are brighter than the sunrise

You are darker than the flood

You are keeper of deaths door knell

yet as gentle as the dove

You are wiser than the wisest

You are fairer than the doe

you are passion grace and mercy

From you alone life flows

You are stronger than the strongest

next to you the strongman’s weak

you are mightier than the fortress

yet make mans throne your seat

You rise within the weakest

you stand beside the wan

you reside within the poorest

mans weakness you out span

You are purer than the candle

and whiter than the snow

your grace is fundamental

from you does all life grow

In the rising of the river

in the flowing of the flood

in the resting of the rainbow

is the nesting of the dove

By the door post you are standing

with the crock of gold in hand

the bestowal of all glory

from the First to last of man

In the shadows you stand bidding

till the sands of time run dry

Till there be no abiding

‘cept there be Calvary’s tide

In the winter of the season

autumn leaves no more do fall

no spring lambs nimbly jumping

no summer warmth’s enthral

In past and fading memories

a distant bell does tell

of the wonder and the glory

for man who fell to hell

For there You lingered longest

its message to proclaim

to set “as captive” liberty

to speak for mans refrain

And comes a distant calling

from the man of law who won

for man the distant telling

of many a battle done

For man and God sit tandem

a striding on Gods cross

the duality of victory

paid for the lost its cost

No more a price a paying

no lingering debt fulfil

the pardons fully granted

on the steps of Gods great hill

the contract of mans history

rewrote and countersigned

laid bare on Easter morning

For man in time to find

and blessed mankind in mercy

who had no coat to wear

to stop all men from falling

he stooped and dared to care

and brought for man a blessing

that though all time can’t pay

on bright and frosty morning

Your yonder light still splays

That Light from early stable

from lowly hamlet fell

the shepherds’ now awaiting

this final call to tell

To myriad host of wanderers

to nomad, child yet still

the many memories passing

the memory of that thrill

the moment of the glory

that freely shone from God

God’s splendour, his Almighty

a parting gift from God

To all who know the story

to all who hold his word

to all who rest in glory

to all who’ve not yet heard

The King of Kings is coming

his voice in glory tells

his ringing and his triumph

Whose words will ever tell

O mercy might and majesty

of mayhem lost and found

of chaos and catastrophe

on mans dead ground make sound.

This describes Gods longing for France and England.

Dave Hood

Siloam

-come to the waters and drink-

Come to the pool of Siloam

Come to the waters and drink

Come here, and find a refreshing

Come take, of the long cool drink

Upon the waters are ripples

Whose eddies and flow made for you

Flowing to you from its centre

Ever moving and flow, so now do

So come, all you who are thirsty

Come the lame, its crippled and drink

And find its longing, its refreshing

To bring you all back from the brink

The tide of this nation is turning

Its eddies and flows set for rest

So come to the waters don’t dither

Let me, put your mind at rest

A longing, a flowing, a yearning,

Is of all, from me that is best

So come now, don’t hesitate or dither

Come ye all and find in me rest

A history of this nation is waiting

A longing for its repent

For its challenging and it’s changing

Is being spent to heal its rent

Its garment has been torn asunder

Its wound exposed and unkempt

To whom will my message deliver?

What of I that I relent

I am changing the face of the nations

The law of the axe head is bent

But I in my powerful refraction

Will heal and bind up its vent

No more sore and puss erupting

No more be, its running and loss

For I its Master and Saviour

Am binding and find it’s lost

Alone am I not in my ardour

For the Spirit and Father am One

For I am its Lord and Master,

I am victory, and not the Somme

Not here the needless disaster

Not here the slaughter and mess

But here the myrtle and larch grow

Here, I bring my rest

My power to pass by as fleeting

A flowing movement and passion of me

Giving, and showing its splendour

Of its loosing and blessing to thee

I am not as the night walking janitor

But I am as the light of my word

No longer to move in darkness

But to bless with the sword of my word

Upon and atop of all mountains

From valley and hill and the sky

The train of my robe will be sweeping

as the edge of my sky passes by

Its light and its blessing will linger

Its full supplication is nigh

My love so complete yet so tender

My ardour I just cannot hide

Oh would you, be all for blessing?

Oh would you, all stand aside?

And look for and see of my splendour

From which, no dark hides or abides

The day of my presence sweeps nearer

The nest of my love has been stirred

The evil, it me will not hinder

Only my thunder is heard.

1997

A prayer

Help us Lord to reach out

To find and touch the lost

May they Lord discover

That you’ve paid the cost

Cover them with glory

Touch them with your power

Feed them in their hunger

Forgive them Lord this hour

Clothe the naked body

Heal infirmity

Drive away all fear Lord

Set at liberty

Lighten now their load Lord

Carry the cripple too

May you now deliver

Bring them home to you

Joined to them in heartache

Longing to break through

Longing to discover

Faith and trust in you

Hearken to their calling

Long their thirst to slake

Hear them Lord and listen

Gather as they quake

In you there is no darkness

In you there is no night

Look now Lord upon them

Shine now lord your Light

Place them in your body

Seat them Lord with you

Let them share your glory

Giving praise to you

In you there is no fear

Far from you Lord ‘tis cast

In the name of Jesus

May they, this life line grasp

Nailed to the cross a body

The Lord of victory

Demolishing all argument

Love is found in thee

Raised by your power to glory

From sin and death set free

Releasing Lord the captives

Drawing all to thee

You’re calling Lord your body

You’re calling Lord the lost

Your heart is torn and aching

Aching for the lost

The heavens you’ll break asunder

The hordes of hell hold back

To take the devils plunder

To wrest them from his grasp

Oh will we stop and listen

Oh will we see the lost

Oh will we look to Jesus

Oh will we count the cost

You’re calling Lord your body

You’re calling Lord the lost

You’re calling Lord your people

To come and face the cross

The meadows green and rolling

The thunder sounding near

The storm clouds lash their warning

The time is drawing near

The leaves they are now changing

The seasons almost gone

The hope of glory fading

The hope of vict’ry won

Oh will you come for refuge

Oh will you come inside

The ark is set and waiting

The King is still on high

Only you have power Lord

Only you have grace

Flowing from your body

To all the sick in haste

Healing in your mercy

Washing in your love

Forgiving, tender mercies

Sent by God above

Making sweet the bitter

Giving grace to dust

Healing Balm of Gilead

In the Lamb we trust

Holy is the Father

Holy is the Son

Holy is the Spirit

Life in you made One

encouragement

Refresh my soul, in peace at last

This long dark day has lost its grasp

To thee above, alone am clasped

And hear the death throes naught but gasp!

Am not alone in this dark hour

Am kept and safe, in thy sinewy tower

Against all odds, against the tide

Thou hast kept me by thy side

My shame above no more to bear

Thy love has shone beyond compare

By still and quiet waters tread

No more a boulder for my head

But now thy breast, thy house, thy home

For you have brought me to your throne

And still at last, this twinkling vale

The rays of morning, the dark curtailed

To bring a peace beyond compare

Thy Dove O Lord, He fills the air.

Vision and Poem

The following poem was given to me as a result of a vision/picture the Lord gave me.

Dave Hood

March 1999

A number of years ago, after a Sunday service, I got home and felt God drawing me to him, to listen to and hear his voice. As I waited on him, he gave me a picture of a prison cell. It was old and made of aged, yet large, uneven stones. The room was apparently empty and seemingly bare, except for a stone ledge to my right side, which could act as a platform and a stone bed. I could not see anyone in the cell, although I had a sense there were other people there.

The cell was lit, from high up, by a single window, small, but rectangular in shape, with an arc at the top edge. It was barred; breaking the window into smaller squares and was recessed into the thick walls of the cell. This was this prisons only light, there seemed to be no door, although I had not looked behind me.

I felt this cell had been like this for a while and that the surfaces were thick with dirt and with dust, even the walls had a smattering of coating. As I focused on the light I saw it beam and break through the gloom, much like sun through dark clouds on a dismal day, yet one sees the rays coming and reaching and streaming to earth and its land.

It was as I looked to the window and its light, I heard the phrase “windows of prayer”

I saw the beams, rays of light, shine into this room, and began to see the dust glint, having been caught in its light, its beams “catching the dust ” in it, the many, yet individual grains of dust. As I looked I could see there were not just hundreds of grains of dust caught in the light, not even thousands, yet there were hundreds of thousands, even millions caught there in the flow of light. I thought , how many there were to be brought into the light of Gods prayer, how many yet untouched, undisturbed as it were, locked up, asleep, unaware of anything except the circumstances of the prison and its life, if you could call it that.

I noticed too that as I moved towards the light, through and in its beams, a flurry of air would cause more grains to be affected and enter the light of the beam. I understood this to be the activity of the Holy Spirit circulating through the air, who represented the very air itself in the cell, in contact with every grain of dust individually and collectively. The movement that caused the flurry of the airs activity, was my own move in my heart towards God, in what I saw.

As I allowed God to move me, God moved his Spirit, becoming more active, by his light upon the grains of dust as I moved towards Him and bringing more grains, glinting and glistening into his light. Instead of dark, dank, hanging inactivity, there was action and life as the grains were brought into the path of the beam of his light.

The light represented Jesus, the light of God to the world. The air represented the Spirit, ever present in the place, time and circumstance of man, in his current and present condition. The whole scene was underpinned by the will, the purpose, the activity of Fathers own heart as he sought to bring individuals, all into his light, not wanting one to perish, not one left untouched,

To do this he had to open the window of my heart to prayer, or anyone else's. To open hearts to his heart, to shine and enlighten our grains and hearts therein to his work and do what it is he is doing. At the same time, most graciously revealing what it is he wishes us to pray about, who it is he really wishes us to reach and touch for and with him in prayer.

I felt also that there were shadowy figures, in grey dirty clothes emerging from the shadows. Perhaps they were people emerging from the shadow of prayer into the light of prayer. Perhaps too, reflecting the duality of this scene, they were also figures, real individuals, coming out of their greying grave clothes into the light of Gods situations and will and light of his salvation.

May God give us eyes to see and ears to hear what it is he is doing; who it is he is calling and who it is he is seeking to reach, for his sake and for his glory.

The poem is a result of looking at what it is he is showing, reflecting on what it is he is doing, listening to him for what it is he is wishing to say. May it greatly convey his peace, power and grace to you. May it cause us to see even more, hear even more, do even more of what it is he calling us to. In Jesus name. Amen.

Window of Prayer

Lord open your window of prayer,

help us see what your touching in there

as the rays of your light

pierce the dark of that night