The Books I've Read This Year

These are the books I've read cover to cover this year since last September...

The Booklist

The Making Of Methodism
A Preaching Workbook
Embodying The Word
Theology The Basics
Mission Shaped Evangelism
I Suffer Not A Woman
Evangelism That Really Works
Beyond Anger
Threshold Of The Future
Tend My Flock
What's The Difference
Love Wins
The Problem Of Pain
The Life And Work Of A Priest
Harry Potter And The Philosophers Stone
Harry Potter And The Chamber Of Secrets
Harry Potter And The Prisoner Of Azkaban
Harry Potter And The Goblet Of Fire
Tina Fey Bossypants

(and there's been loads of others I read chapters from, or half of).

First Week of Autumn

This is a poem I wrote in 2003 when I was 20, watching the first week of Autumn start to materialise outside my bedroom window in Richmond. It's not poet laureate material, but hey, it's a nice memory.

It's started raining hard through the tired sunshine
A few brown leaves somersault past my window
Caught up in the high winds

The trees are turning red and yellow
In retired memory of the summer
The night air is early
        and feels like Christmas is coming
The sunlight reaches the trees sideways
A small yellow leaf tumbles and blusters
Head over heels down the road
Autumn settles snug in his seat
And the sky above is blue.

Some Awesome Childhood Compositions

Rooting around in my folders, I found two ridiculous but amusing 'poems' which me and two friends wrote at school aged 14ish... These are so goofy, they still make me laugh out loud though. This is pretty much what comes of watching waaay too much Monty Python.
And here they are.

Ode to Moose

Oh ye awesome Moose

Yea, ye make stupid noisesome pestilence,

But thy majestic horns doeth get entangled in tree.

Ye art tracked down, for sooth,

And thy almighty name would be takeneth in vain,

But ye hold strong,

And ye ram thy horns into hunters rump.

Alas! Thy prey doeth need plastic surgeon,

But legendary Moose will prevail,

Faint heart never won fair Moose,

And thy noble antlers art stucketh in gorse bush,

ha ha ha ha ha.

The Pigeon Poem

O yea ye wondrous Pigeon

What feathers lie upon thy flesh?

Ye big fat piece o' lard are ye,

And coloursome are ye.

Yea, ye fly o'er abundant hills,

But yea, ye lose caliber,

Thy rhythmic flaps wit' many a coo

Ye are but yayself an handsome bird.

O'er many a mile yay're eyes doeth hast seen,

Beholding thy nest art the furrows of ye're eye lids

And ye fall off branch,

Into cow pat.

Arr.