Mysterious Star Warwick Allen Saturday, 12 December 1998
Upon the starts I gaze Into the heavens I stare I find some comfort there Though star seem so far away
I've been here for sometime Staring, watching, waiting Praying, always hoping A bright star might be mine
Past me, sometimes, a star will fly A beautiful, radiant shooting star Travelling by me not so far For my heart to singe as it passes by
I see a new star now coming towards me From the others, somehow different More intensely radiant With a light greater than its own, for all to see
With that light, I'm quite familiar That holy, pure light Potent enough to pierce the darkest night My heart this light does lure
Never before has a star of this nature Glowing with holy radiance Shinning with natural brilliance Never before has one come so near
Will this star come close enough for harm Burn my soul and then depart Fly harmlessly into the distance, or crash into my heart Or float like a butterfly into my arms
Where Shall I Go from Here? Warwick Allen Wednesday, 25 March 1998
As a planet circles its sun To you my heart seems eternally bound Through an irregular ellipse I run Drifting nearer and farther, around and around But always ending up where I began
If only I could get enough speed To break free of the pull The relentless attraction, the incessant need To escape this agonising orbit, this endless cycle I would finally be freed
As it is, I can discern The light and warmth you radiate To come closer, I desperately yearn But I know what would be my fate The light would vanish, but the heat would burn
Oh, where shall I go from here This place where wisdom and emotions clash so violently? All I ask of you, all I dare Is that you'll forgive my weakness graciously And you won't take from me any of that I hold so dear
All is Well with My Soul Warwick Allen Wednesday, 25 February 1998
Original poem (1998)
I feel my soul Is in need of nourishment But deep within me I hear the whisper The gentle whisper Of the Spirit of God
A thick cloud has enveloped me Cold mist has surrounded me Only some Of the joyful banter of friends Of their light Filters through And it's muffled Dampened by the darkness And through that darkness They only See part of me
But the whisper remains Continuing to encourage
My heart is heavy Anxiety, fear of failure Letting others down Weigh on my mind And my body Is reluctant to move
But still I hear the whisper That blessed whisper And I know All is well with my soul
Song arrangement (2025)
[Verse 1] I feel my soul Is in need of nourishment But deep within me I hear the whisper The gentle whisper Of the Spirit of God
[Refrain] And the whisper remains Continuing to encourage
[Verse 2] A thick cloud has enveloped me Cold mist has surrounded me Only some Of the joyful banter of friends Of their light Filters through
[Chorus 1] Their joy is muffled Dampened by the darkness And through that darkness They only See part of me
[Refrain] But the whisper remains Continuing to encourage
[Verse 3] My heart is heavy Anxiety, fear of failure Letting others down Weigh on my mind And my body Is reluctant to move
[Coda] But still I hear the whisper That blessed whisper And I know All is well with my soul
[Stanza 1] Often I wander Often I stray From the path You've chosen for me From Your blessed way
[Stanza 2] Often I declare My love for You Yet that same love I deny In the things that I do
[Stanza 3] But just when it seems I've gone that little too far When my will differs from that of Your own When Your love isn't my guiding star When I try to go it alone
[Stanza 4] You reach out Your hand You draw me near You wrap Your arms around me In a hug so dear
[Stanza 5] And I know Your love A love so true And I wonder why I do Those things that don't please You
[Stanza 6] Then You set me back down on my way The path that You'd have me journey And gently squeeze my hand to say “Child, all the way—it's you and Me.”
[Verse 1] As I wallow In my pit Of self-pity, I search for causes, reasons, excuses. I look around For somewhere To lay the blame. But no matter where I look, or how hard,
[Refrain] The only guilty party I find Is me.
[Verse 2] And no defence Do I have To call upon, For who would defend one as guilty as I? The prosecutor Is emboldened By the silent jeers From the gallery made up of those who care.
[Refrain] The prosecutor, It seems, Is me.
[Verse 3] No jury Is required here; The verdict Of this case is all too clear. The sentence, Which I await, Will be, I fear, A life not fulfilled, a potential never reached.
The contemporary poem “Guilty” is an exploration of
self-recrimination through the extended metaphor of judicial proceedings.
The work presents a psychological landscape wherein the speaker exists
simultaneously as defendant, prosecutor, and judge within an internalised
courtroom of conscience.
Structure and Form
The poem’s structure mirrors the progression of a legal case, from
initial investigation (“I search for causes, reasons,
excuses”) through prosecution and ultimately to the anticipation of
sentencing. This architectural framework is reinforced by the poem’s
fragmented presentation, with short, uneven lines that create pauses
reminiscent of hesitant testimony or the measured delivery of legal
argument. The poet employs enjambment strategically, particularly in the
opening stanza where “I look around / For somewhere / To lay the
blame” physically enacts the searching movement described within the
text.
The Judicial Metaphor
The central conceit transforms personal guilt into a formal legal
proceeding, yet this metaphor reveals its own limitations and ironies.
Traditional jurisprudence requires separation of roles—prosecutor,
defendant, judge, and jury—yet here these functions collapse into a
single consciousness. This convergence suggests the impossibility of fair
self-assessment and the tyranny of unchecked self-criticism. The speaker
notes that “No jury / Is required here,” indicating a process
that has abandoned the safeguards of objective judgment.
The “gallery made up of those who care” introduces an
additional layer of complexity, suggesting that genuine concern from
others is perceived as condemnation. This distortion of perspective
reveals the speaker’s psychological state, wherein support is
reinterpreted as judgment, and care becomes indistinguishable from
prosecution.
Language and Tone
The diction throughout maintains a formal, legal register that contrasts
sharply with the emotional vulnerability of the content. Terms such as
“guilty party,” “defence,” “prosecutor,” “verdict,” and
“sentence” create semantic consistency whilst ironically
highlighting the speaker’s inability to escape the framework of
condemnation. The repetition of “me” as both subject and
object (“The prosecutor… Is me”) emphasises the circular,
inescapable nature of self-blame.
The poem’s tone shifts from active searching to passive resignation,
culminating in the final stanza’s acceptance of temporal judgment.
This progression mirrors the movement from agency to helplessness that
characterises severe self-criticism.
Temporal Dimensions
Time functions as both tormentor and potential saviour within the text.
The speaker anticipates “A life not fulfilled, a potential never
reached”—a sentence that stretches across the entirety of
existence. Yet the final lines introduce the possibility of redemption
through time’s judgment, suggesting that temporal distance might offer
the objectivity that immediate self-assessment cannot provide.
Psychological Realism
The poem’s strength lies in its authentic portrayal of depressive
self-condemnation. The speaker’s inability to locate external blame,
despite searching “no matter where I look, or how hard,”
reflects the self-defeating patterns of thought characteristic of clinical
depression. The work avoids sentimentality by maintaining its legal
framework, even as it reveals the irrationality of applying judicial logic
to matters of self-worth.
Conclusion
“Guilty” succeeds as both a psychological portrait and a
critique of self-judgment. Through its sustained metaphor, the poem
reveals how the architecture of formal justice, when internalised, becomes
a mechanism of self-torture rather than truth-seeking. The work’s
final gesture towards time as judge offers a subtle suggestion that
healing might require the external perspective that the speaker’s
internal court cannot provide. The poem stands as a compelling examination
of how consciousness, when turned entirely inward, can become both prison
and prisoner.
