For this reason

Haiku for those who seek

Some Greeks found Philip,
knew he was a follower,
asked to see Jesus.

Jesus met with them,
laid it out straight and simple;
The seed has to die.

To be made fruitful
the grain of wheat is buried
and dies to itself.

The same for us all;
if you want to save your life,
you must give it up.

Become my servant.
You must follow after me
to the hard places

My soul is troubled,
not looking forward to it:
the coming hour.

Should I entreat God
to spare the pain and dying?
No, it’s why I came.

The voice from heaven:
God’s name has been glorified
and will be again.

As he is lifted
Jesus changes ev’rything,
restores creation.


© Ken Rookes 2018


A Sower went out

Haiku for gardeners

He goes to the lake,
finds a boat beached on the shore.
The crowd waits, eager.

What word will they hear;
what deep message awaits them?
He tells them stories.

Calls them parables;
he wants to get them thinking,
pondering kingdom.

A sower went out
to plant; eager and with hope.
He cast seed widely.

What might it produce?
That, friends, is the mystery;
depends where it lands.

The path and its birds,
shallow soil on rocky ground,
or the thorns that choke.

There is good soil, too.
The disciples are puzzled;
What does it all mean?

The seed is good news,
the gospel of the kingdom.
Not all receive it.

Some seed finds good soil;
hearts that are open to love.
These will bear much fruit.


© Ken Rookes 2017

After the rain


After the rain came,

the bare patches of earth

dressed themselves

in beards of green; offspring

of the thousands of seeds

which the lawn had prudently

placed in reserve

for just such an occasion.



with seeds hidden deep,

we yearn for the green shoots

of the inevitable kingdom

that Jesus assured us

is only a shower away.

So we wait for the Spirit

to drench the earth.


© Ken Rookes

This one’s been around for a while. Hope you find it useful.


Way back behind the jar

of rusty screws

we find the dust-covered

seed pack: Yates, Grosse Lisse,

plant before December1995.

Might be a bit late.


At the centre

of the created universe,

deep within each living molecule

a seed has been planted.

Buried in the cold darkness

a tiny parcel of potential

holding its divine dna,

splendid and auriferous, quietly

anticipating the promised rain

and the word of assent

that will permit it to sprout.

The smallest gesture of warmth

may be enough.

Then will come a burst

of hope-saturated life

to break through indifferent soil;


growing and becoming.

With time, care and steadfast striving

much long-sought fruit can be produced.


Within each soul, a seed, scattered,

sown by the one who creates;

the rain is gifted by the Spirit,

but the word of assent

must come from ourselves.

Never too late.


© Ken Rookes 2012