'By and for men and women of goodwill'

Current Issue

Here is a short selection of poems from the current issue.
Details of how you can obtain a complete copy are included on the Subscriptions page of this website.

Garden Of The Mind

There was a Man
With shining crown
As soft and light
As thistledown,
A gentle, lion-hearted Man
Who, swaying through the clouded planes,
Scattered the lighted seeds of Thought
In countless sad, forsaken lanes;
A Man not yet of mortal birth,
Who carried consciously the plan
To liberate the Earth.

Through every age
The scattered seed
Froze in the winter
Of our need:
We did not heed, we did not know
The Country lonely for our kind;
We walked our concrete winterworld
Until the heart grew bleak and blind;
And oh, we grieve to understand
Our loneliness, till we must go
To seek the longlost Land.

Then, the very
Sun stoops down
And gives to each
A shining crown
Whose Thoughts go flying on the air,
Light with wisdom, soft with power,
To seed in some sequestered place,
Waiting for the destined hour
When fallen nations wake to rise
And generations all embrace,
Causing once and eternally
The flowering of a race.



The Telling Of The Self

Our game is played on a chequerboard,
Playing by turns appears to be our lot.
Alternately good and bad on paths are poured,
But between the squares the Truth is got.

Uttered in the cave of a humbled heart,
The clarified word of the penitent
Oft shows where Self and self doth part,
And is a telling-ray from heaven sent.





The Seaman

Discarnate of land
That unsteady firm plane
Up the man rope he creeps
As the mantis that prays

Feet find brilliant planks
Bright with holystone warmth
Ere emerald pennant descendeth
Shouts bosun aloft

For the seaman decks swaying
Is the rocking of yore
Sea-legs of less substance
Skin scaly and coarse

Ever forward gaze cast
Lest love be left moored
For fortunes are found
O’er a far distant shore



God Sense

Throw open the window.
Throw open the door;and step outside!
If there is sunshine,
let the warmth play upon your face.
If there is a breeze,
be thankful and let it caress your cheek.
Be still – and you will have no need to ask.
Answers will come before you even pose a question.
A contradiction? I think not.
It only remains to be tried!




Landmark, lifemark, the steeple of St John’s.
Pausing, we hear the bells faintly in snow.
Down the chill river, destiny beckons.
Landmark, lifemark, the steeple of St John’s.
Pals all our lives, we’re the lucky ones,
Tramping the valley top, me and my Bro.
Landmark, lifemark, the steeple of St John’s.
Pausing, we hear the bells faintly in snow…

Paul Beech