Wednesday, 1 October 2014



An eerie silence descends in the late afternoon 
A murky gloom circles as night arrives too soon
October conquers a wilting landscape, scowling 
Its menacing shadows guilty, skulking, cowering
Announcing the shudder of an oncoming wild winter
Bringing a chill to the perpetual summer character.

Fr. Patrick Brennan © 2014 

Wednesday, 24 September 2014

Childhood Dreams

Childhood Dreams

Matured to middle age, I am walking down my old street
Transported back to where my ancient memories meet
I was indestructible Captain Scarlet, a Thunderbird too
Sent out from the confines of poverty, to explore the view
Derelict buildings, held a fascination, a captivating mystery
Hours of playtime, clambering over rubble strewn history 
Fallen concrete, bull dozed to make way for our modernity
In dusk's darkening, these the shadows of castles, old artillery 
Imagination, the guest of the tiny heart beating with excitement
Repelling unseen armies, that menace with an enemies accent
Shouts of delight mingle with the rumble of traffic in the distance 
Time does not grip too tightly the shoulder of youthful existence 
Laughing, streaked in dust, frolicking towards sunlight streams
Busy hands are caked in the magical mud of childhood dreams

Fr. Patrick Brennan © 2014 
all rights reserved

I was brought up as a young child in Inkerman Street, in Nechells, Birmingham. Three brothers and three sisters lived together in a house. I don’t remember much about the house or how much we had, or how much we hadn’t, but I did not worry about those things. I remember many hours of going out to play in the streets surrounding. As an adult, when I care to remember, I think of the early seventies and a child is recalled in the memories and the poem reflects some of those memories.

Saturday, 20 September 2014

Homily Notes: Twenty-Fifth Sunday Year A

One of the things that really gets me annoyed is when somebody jumps a queue. If I have been waiting in a line for ages, and someone further up the line sneaks in, it can be infuriating! Wait your turn!
The gospel parable today annoys me as well. How can one who has worked so hard all day get the same wages as one who has joined in the last hour? What is that all about! Those scholars who commentate of the scriptures tell us that a parable is meant to get under our skin, to make the listener think, to challenge our comfortable notion of life, and how it is being lived. This one does the job!
The answer of the landowner is worth noting, he responds; why get angry because I am generous? In other words, I am not like you!  This is so true of our life of faith. Now and again I can find myself judging people by my own poor standards and not understanding the generous goodness of God, who is not like me.
I think wrongly sometimes that it can be unfair that being good is not a prerequisite for being rewarded. But doing good, is the natural obligation of one who professes faith in Christ. We don’t do good just to get God’s attention, and we don’t do good just to get back something. We do good, because Jesus commands us to! He reminds us this often when he tells us to love God and our neighbour as ourselves. Jesus does not say love God so as to advance in his estimation; God loves us unconditionally anyway. His love is one that calls us to love, to follow his example, pouring out our lives for others as a direct response to being loved.
God loves generously, and calls people to faith in him. Our part of this is not to judge who is worthy or not of God’s love and attention, our part is to serve God’s word by embracing it as fully as we can as we live. When we fall down we can approach the throne of God’s infinite mercy, and seek God’s generous loving nature found there in abundance.

Friday, 19 September 2014

First Words

First Words

Woken from restless dreamings in the torrid night
Morning brings a silent wake, receives fresh light
Opening eyes banish sleeping, a new day to ignite
As grey canvas skies gradually take their daily flight
First words belong to prayer, the sacred ancient rite
Whispered in gratitude, a sheltering in God’s sight
An eternal communication with the divine playwright
Inspiration springs forth, with new chapters to write
Be close to me Lord, as I journey, my heart excite
Allow my words to be kind, your word be my delight! 

Fr. Patrick Brennan © 2014 all rights reserved

Tuesday, 16 September 2014

The Aye Vote

The Aye Vote

Waiting for a Scottish winter to take effect 
To freeze the bairns, is freedom that perfect?
Say yes to the centuries old righting of wrongs
Dancing to the tunes of age old national songs
United? Well have you seen the green and blue 
Marching with whistle, banging the drums for you
Better together, whispers in the autumn, vote no 
Let's share a drink, a handshake with the old foe
Malt whiskey, leaves a bitter taste in the throat
When supped by a Sasanach, stubborn old goat
So go, say farewell as you wave me goodbye 
Take that Holyrood road when you vote your Aye! 
When winter comes calling, the road frozen over
A distant memory, the route south towards Dover 
We will drink to the good times, the tartan years
Lamenting the Union's demise with genuine tears! 

Fr. Patrick Brennan © 2014 
all rights reserved

Monday, 15 September 2014

Melancholy meets a moment of Grace

Melancholy meets a moment of Grace
I possess a melancholic companion that haunts me
That stares into the raging fire and walks into the roaring sea 
A sadness clings to my shivering child, in the corner of my mind
On my shoulder as I walk or run, I feel an icy breath close behind
A sorrowful waif who glides around the recesses of my aching heart
Waiting for twist or turn, the opportunity to tear my fragile hope apart
Lurking in the uncertainty of the inability to perceive what is yet to come
Planting doubt, hesitating an advent of joy, rendering my heart numb
To vanquish this foe, this ravaging soldier, quickly advancing towards me
my knees fall in prayer, hands lift up high, my words whisper an urgent plea
“Lord God, in your goodness have mercy, save me, make my delight in thee”
My trembling limbs steady, fear fades way, in a restoration of the gift of serenity, as what was melancholy is transformed in a moment of grace, to a promise of eternity.
Fr. Patrick Brennan © 2014 all rights reserved