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Roger Macdivitt .

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My Poetry.... Roger Macdivitt
3/8/2009 7:48:36 PM






A Celebration to language, friendship and things shared

with love from Roger


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Roger Macdivitt .

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Re: My Poetry.... Roger Macdivitt
3/8/2009 7:51:50 PM

True friends at Adland

Having a very good time

Adland is the place to meet

Now with spelling rhyme

Keep true, keep friends

So Adland never ends


Acrostic Pasted at Mattias forum


Roger Macdivitt .

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Re: My Poetry.... Roger Macdivitt
3/8/2009 7:56:49 PM

The Sands of Time       (c) Roger Macdivitt 2008

The solar winds demand obedience beyond earthly comprehension.

Time itself becomes caught-up in the onward rush.

Everything is energy, nothing is allowed a micro-second of negativity.

Human intrusion is not allowed even a sentence in the front page reports of eternity.


From conception to completion the universe’s urgent race expands to and from it’s maker.

On and on, sometimes like a searing breath or sometimes a freezing ectoplasm,

Like the thoughts of God, no clue is given to as to time’s purpose.

Through a deafening silence nothing is heard, no sound, a concept.


The effects, both huge beyond belief and small beyond ungodly understanding,

Impact on every part of matter and cause this to coalesce with anti-matter and, in return bring down judgement upon any resistance.

What can withstand this inevitable and terrible onslaught of drag and tide and spin?

Only it’s maker can press the switch and bring the whole thing to a terrible and catastrophic halt.


What destination, what goal, what purpose?

There will be those who, for a brief and unmeasurable moment in time,

     Will consider themselves important enough to attempt to unravel the mystery.

Who will consider themselves important enough to see themselves as being important in the scheme of things.


Blind faith (frowned upon by the learned) may hold an answer, for,

Every question posed throws up another and another and eventually is swept up in that rushing unstoppable thing called time.

Time cannot stand still. It’s maker demanded a start and a finish but the finish cannot in turn be found.

Nothing and no-one knows one single answer.


Maybe time is a circle which returns to the same point but never recognises it?

Maybe it is of multitudinal dimension?

Maybe it does not exist beyond an ephemeral sphere?

Maybe nothing or nobody can expect to know, as it’s own existence is too brief to be significant?


We try to measure time and record it,

We try to portray it in graphic terms.

While we may create an hour glass or a day glass or an even larger scale,

We cannot ever stop the infinite sands as they pass in and out of eternities open-ended glass.

Roger Macdivitt .

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Re: My Poetry.... Roger Macdivitt
3/8/2009 8:00:49 PM

This is a poem that I dedicated to survivors of breast cancer.

I believe this to be inspired as it came to me just like this, early one morning.


My hope, like a garden, grew.

(C)   Roger Macdivitt 2009


My hope, like a garden, grew

Unexpected , but real.

When at first, the news, like torrential rain, arrived

There was nothing to be done.

Everything in my garden was beyond help

To have attempted rescue would have been merely to slip and fall.

Those things that I had nurtured were now almost worthless,

Beyond help, beyond reach, withering before my very eyes.

But it’s only rain, it will pass, the sun will shine again.

I looked and saw nothing but dark forbidding clouds.

It was the not knowing, it had come from nowhere

I could see no end.

The end didn’t come for a very long time, or so it seemed.

Friends reassured, family promised, the community prayed.

But I, still deep in some dark corner peered out upon the desolation.

I could not imagine why,

Something that yesterday was just part of me is now a threat.

A threat that promised not just to spoil many seasons of work

But that now was like judgement itself.

These things were sometimes a secret, sometimes a pride

On occasions an embarrassment, but always just there.,

Something, that like Topsy, just grew.


That was a long yesterday ago.

That was before the professional gave me hope.

He told me that because I had been diligent, or even lucky

My  chances of bringing about some sort of recovery was good.

The sun came out a little that day.

I saw other gardeners who had suffered the same fate.

They told me, the sun came out for them more and more,

That spring would arrive and, although there would be days when

I would be carting dung or digging impossible clays

One day my garden would be full of colour again.

I knew that some had failed miserably.

Some had tried with all they knew, some with help, some alone.

No guarantees but every glimpse of sun had to be seized upon

Like a healthy, bright and warming promise it had come

For me no separation, no mourning what once was.

I knew that for some it was worse

But then, these things aren’t more important than life itself.

Not worth losing everything for.

My fear that those nearest would be repelled, or lose interest was unfounded.

More the opposite, a support and interest I didn’t expect.


It seems strange, but,

Although the fear that those torrents of hell would re-surface, it’s now different.

For me my garden is brighter for I look at every detail every day.

One day when I’m old I may have to face not being able to tend nature.

But I know now, that while the sun shines for me, I can once again

Welcome nurturing rain knowing that I can in turn teach others.

They need to know my secrets now.

That, if the rains come for them I have the knowledge.

I have the strength that I never knew.

There is no garden too big or too tangled that can’t be tamed.

Not everyone can be a gardener.

There will be those sent trials, maybe in sport or in business.

They may have to suffer the same dark days that I did

But locked in a gym or an office or just in their home.

But now I am like an odd-job person.

I can shine my light into their darkest corners.

You see, I’ve been there.

And now I’m still here.


Mine was just one small story about a part of me.

Maybe your part or your story will differ.

There is a life beyond deep dark days and I want you to join me there.

There’s sun, and flowers and apples beautiful peaches

Where once there was just rotten fruit.

Now my diet is full and healthy,

I’m just a little more careful what I nurture.

I take care to ensure that my friends too take time

Time to check their precious God given fruit

And to take their findings to their professional helper.

God Bless you in your journey.


Roger Macdivitt .

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Re: My Poetry.... Roger Macdivitt
3/8/2009 8:02:06 PM

Be True to Yourself

(c) R L Macdivitt 2009


Be true to yourself

Don’t be blue for yourself

Let a little truth get through to yourself

Admit who you are

You’ll soon see you’re a star

When you feel this way, you’ll go far


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