JELLEYFEST 4

 I wrote a poem about Jelleyman's Mill and jelleyfest. This is the first poem I have written in a very long time so be kind. 🙂

Summer sunshine, through the trees, Dappled water, gentle breeze,

Ladybirds and bees that linger, pausing, resting on my finger.

Plastic chairs with tales to tell,  steampunk clothes and hats as well.

Handmade crafts, soft cake with icing, wooden robots - so enticing

Cups of coffee, friendly faces, little children, open spaces.

Music, food, cocktails too, photos, daftness, memories new.

Yarn wall selfies, and yarn to buy, a whole host of good things-

A feast for the eye.

The Crafty Jelley  with treats galore, gorgeous artwork, wood - and more!

Cards and coasters, crafts to try, the river gently running by.

Jelleyfest in all its glory overlooked by the mill with many a story.

Those who once worked there, some will recall

Long ago memories in those tumbledown walls.

Jelleyman's Mill has been workplace and leisure

But for me it's brought friends, conversation and pleasure.

Thank you dear mill, long may you survive and may you grow stronger in order to thrive.

©️ Karen Holmes.

August 2025

Music Stand conundrum

 I wrote this after somebody somewhere questioned the use of music stands in church, suggesting they spoiled the atmosphere. 

Should we be using music stands or might there be a way 

That feels less conspicuous and won't get in the way

Could music be suspended from a beam high in the air

But oh what chaos might ensue if someone moved your chair.

Perhaps a more effective way

Some order to restore

Would just involve musicians 

To lie upon the floor

Perhaps a row of pillows to balance books or sheet

As long as those with little kids

Didn't fall asleep. 

Or maybe see through stands  would work

They'd not obscure the view

Though they might break if falling 

As stands are prone to do.

I have a few ideas here

But nothing of distinction 

For I think music stands work well 

I'd save them from extinction 

Protect the humble music stand

It's served us well for ages

As long as someone near by 

Is there to turn the pages.

Karen Holmes 

28th October 19 2021

Pumpkin Hair

 I'm planning something orange!

Specifically my hair

I'm going to dye it next week 

To see how people stare!

I'm doing it for Mermaids 

To raise a bit of cash

I've thought it all through carefully 

Although it might seem rash.

I'm feeling rather nervous

So I've bought a great big hat

And if it looks horrendous 

I'll cover it with that.

If you would like to sponsor me

Just giving is the way

It would help a lot of people 

And really make my day.

But if you can't afford it

Then raise a cheer instead

And when you see the photos 

Have a laugh at pumpkin head!

What of Grace?

 Sermon after sermon, familiar hymns by rote

Going through the motions adrift in a leaky boat

Dusty, lifeless duty, ticking someone's box

Doing what's expected, trying to dodge hell's rocks.

Teaching that reopens wounds, empty words and phrases

Banging on about the rules passed down throughout the ages - 

But Wait

Is that true? Do I inherit

opinions that have no merit?

What happened to abundant life, instead of rules which seem so rife?

Restrictions, expectations and 

control by someone else's hand.

What of Grace?

I've spent so long believing I

am lost to God and wondering why

I ever bothered, ever tried, 

many hopeless tears I've cried

UNTIL - there were no churches open,

all the doors were firmly closed

Nobody could point the finger, 

different rules were now imposed.

The pressure lifted, some wailed and mourned

but in my soul a new light dawned

and now I'm starting to explore

if God is found through other doors

Or rather - if God has been waiting, listening to my pontificating

and smiling, as they draw me back to real connection which I lacked

For God won't be confined, contained, 

they laugh at rules the world ordained

and walk upon the beach and draw

designs upon the sandy shores

They splash red paint across the skies 

and teach the baby birds to fly

They decorate the flowers by hand 

and help the sapling learn to stand

They guard the bulbs through winter's snow 

and point the way new shoots should grow

They dance and jive through autumn leaves 

and thrill the soul that now believes

in listening for their heartfelt laughter 

beyond the walls and lofty rafters

and seeing their smile in sunny skies

and tasting raindrops as they cry

Worshipping by candlelight

and colours bold, vibrantly bright

and squirrels scampering in glee 

then leaping fearlessly through trees

Rainbows, clouds and new mown grass

Or tinkling celebratory glass

or dancing frenzied or intense

Discovering God with every sense.

Re-finding Grace, acceptance too

No need to strive, God looks for you

and finds you, pulls your boat to shore

and dances with you evermore.

Karen Holmes

October 19 2021

I want to be a hippie

 I'd like to be a hippie and dwell in open spaces

Wear long and brightly coloured skirts and boots with coloured laces

I'd dye my hair all rainbow shades, add ribbons and bright beads 

I'd follow wild pathways, not caring where they'd lead

I'd get myself a motorbike or perhaps a camper-van

And let each day unfold at will without a structured plan

I'd have a faithful dog or two and we'd snuggle through the night

My van would be so cosy, bedecked in fairy lights

In winter I'd wear thick wool tights, baggy jumpers too

I'd cosy up in blankets with a brandy infused brew

And sometimes I'd wear lipstick, paint my lips bright red

To make myself stand out a bit and see what people said

But mainly I'd just be myself, my soul could freely soar

My head full of unfettered dreams of laughter,  joy ... and more...!

I'd just be me, wholly unique, a hippie through and through

Yes, if I had my time again,  that's just what I would do.

I  cannot fit into life's boxes, it's simply not for me

I have a spirit that deserves to live a life that's free

A camper-van with fairy lights

And snoring dogs through starry nights

And flowing skirts and coloured hair

I close my eyes, pretend I'm there.

Karen Holmes 

15 September 2021

(For Kath)

DHQ

I am backed into a corner and I can't find a way out
The walls are closing in on me and no-one hears me shout
For you've silenced me completely, you have blithely shut me down
You've tied a millstone round my neck and cast me off to drown
I'm wearing black as my heart grieves, you've erased my living breath
You've sentenced me to solitary confinement until death.

And you say it's for my safety! Do you think that I'm insane?
Would you straight jacket me also if I faced you and complained?
You have taken my integrity and hurled it to the floor
Heard my quiet confession and accused me of much more.

Pointing accusing fingers dressed up in kindly cloak
You wounded me more deeply with every word you spoke.
You ground me underneath your shoe, talking of sin and shame
You took your ruler, measured me, found my guilt was not the same
My sin weighed less, their wrong was worse
I wasn't quite so bad.
And then you smiled and said that it was special what we had.

And now a deafening silence, act like its all ok
Sign up and recommit yourself to serve some other way.
But I cannot serve in silence, cowering, hiding, scared
When I feel as if I'm naked, my very soul laid bare.

Written late 2019
Karen Holmes

Permission Refused.

Permission sought to speak of ancient wisdom,
To seek afresh the truths of earth's lost story
To dwell in mysteries once so well known,
To touch the roots of life, to witness nature's glory
Not to merely glance and find a picture perfect scene
But to revere, respect, and learn, some deeper truth to glean
Permission sought to dance in sunlight,
to catch the snowflakes,
shout into the sea
To watch a leaf that spins, in rainbow colours
And hear more clearly
A voice divine, that reaches out to me.

Permission sought to leave the empty buildings
Permission sought to walk away intact
To be allowed to step in new directions
To leave this place which has me feeling trapped
Permission sought to visit on occasions
And not be grilled, mistrusted, cast aside
But just to be accepted in my wholeness
For many are the tears that I have cried.

For you don't know - and wouldn't want to hear about
The person hidden neath the smile I wear
The soul that longs for freedom to express herself
In an environment that won't return despair
In a place where I am wholly seen and loved
for who I am not whom you think you see
Where I don't have to guard my thoughts and keep in check
My thoughts and reasoning to somehow keep the peace.


Karen Holmes.
Written 2019