Poetry of Dave Hood

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
     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 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

-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.


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


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
Lord open your windows of prayer

Lord open your windows of prayer
to watch your sun, lighting, reaching what's there
help discover this room
as your light makes it bloom
Lord open your windows of prayer

Lord open your windows of prayer
filling all the emptiness there
where need is forlorn
and all hope is torn
Lord open your windows of prayer

Lord open your windows of prayer
to the dust and those dying in there
that the praises may ring
of Loves undying King
Lord open your windows of prayer

Lord open your windows of prayer
to the cold and the tired and bare
where there's no hope within
for the encrusted in sin
Lord open your windows of prayer

Lord open your windows of prayer
on those sick on their bed of despair
let your love portion in
light the gloom that’s within
Lord open your window of prayer

Lord open your windows of prayer
to the doubtful and dubious of care
that the world that they know
may come under control
of your love, through the power of your prayer

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