Chris Ruddle Books

Ascended

Disapparition’s not your game
To wow the crowds just one more time
The man who changed water to wine
Still has the power so sublime

The painted scene seems so banal
Your sandalled feet stick out sub-cloud
As trumpet-blowing seraphim
Fly airily above your head

To visualise raw glory
Points far beyond the creatures’ mind
The nail-pierced hands now lifted high
As bloody lamb, key, gate and king

And yet you enter heaven’s realms
Man come to God in love’s embrace
Second person joins triune dance
As third stoops down to counsel saints

And could it be my saviour’s gift
To all who stand on Olivette
Now glimpse anew ascended God
As you are taken from our sight.

I’m in discussions with a publisher for my book. Conflict over faith is one of the main issues in the novel, and the history of 7th Century Damascus.

I’m looking for a couple of people who are not my best friends to read my novel and give me an honest review.

If you:
- like reading historical fiction
- have an interest in the Middle East
- will not be offended by a bit of blood and gore
- have the time to read a novel fairly quickly
- would be happy feeding back an honest critique

then I’d love to hear from you.

Please do share this request with others you think might be interested.

Thanks.

Exciting news.
My book of poetry should be going live in a few days. When it does I’ll be reading every poem, one a day, in a reel.
Then we’ll have a bit of a party on launch day. Free tickets to the event will be available here first. I’m just getting reviews for the back cover. If there are any poets out there who’d like to review my slim volume… do get in touch.

Remember

Remember, remember the fifth of November
Gunpowder, treason and plot.
One man’s freedom is another’s bo***ge
Should never be forgot.

Remember, remember the eleventh of November
Millions mulch their flesh and rot
Machine gun mayhem mows down minors
Should never be forgot.

Remember, remember the 20th of March
A sandy Persian missile strike
One million dead is what they said
What lessons did we take?

Remember, remember Gaza flat.
Women r***d, children dead
Humanity denied, an ancient feud.
Remember the streets blood red.

Remember, remember Rwanda raw
Nature vicious in tooth and claw
Bodies hacked by machete blow.
Remember our brutal savagery shown.

Vietnam, Kosovo, Afghan years
Sudan, Boer war, Crusader tears
Around the world our violent fears
Lock in horror with vict’ry cheers

World War Two defies all odds
Gas chambers. Cluster bombs,
Nuclear gods
75 million laid waste on the land
And people too dumb to understand

Turn the cheek and welcome shame
“It cannot work” the critics cry
But dogs of war game the pain
In conquerors hope they bark, bite, die.

Remember the conscie who’d rather be jailed
Remember the peacemaker who tried but failed.
Remember the diplomat’s efforts curtailed
And plead for the ship that has not yet sailed.

Forget the bastards who win through might
Don’t let the victors decide what’s right.
Forget the lionised bullets flight.
There is no honour when we resort to fight.

My book of poems is out soon. Email me if you’d like a link to look at the book when it’s available.

I’m busy editing my historical novel set in 700AD Damascus.
Here’s a taster of an interesting YouTube clip about the walls of Damascus.

The Ancient Walls of Damascus: Witness to History "Step into the heart of Damascus, one of the world's oldest continuously inhabited cities, and uncover the secrets of its ancient walls and legendary gates. ...

Folks, I am delighted to announce that I have finished the first draft of my novel. 101,000 words all done in 78 chapters! All I have to do now is go back and edit every chapter so another year then…

Aftersmoke

The flame once shone so brightly
Supplicants came close
Emotions shown in faces,
both the careworn lines of age
and the fresh-faced smoothness of youth

The light once flickered distally
taking shapes and patterns
once shrouded in darkness,
Giving form to the formless,
making sense of pitch black night.

The mind once focussed
on that which is beyond
as flame wafted back and forth
The numinal soul seeking truth
beyond flame, beyond art or reason.

Since the snuffer descended
All oxygen denuded, all light gone
There is but aftersmoke
No light or warmth or power
But a wisp soon to dissipate

A poem

Very excited to say that a book of poetry is very nearly ready for publication. Just awaiting the artwork for the outside of the book. It’s a collection of poems from people who attend Baptist churches across the south east of England.

Not long now…

Hi folks. Update. I’ve written 65,000 words in my novel. Very exciting. I’m officially two thirds of the way through. We’ve reached a particularly traumatic period in the story. Damascus is in turmoil. One leader has died. Will the empire fall apart? Will his son succeed him? Or the bloodthirsty butcher from The East? Or will rebels in Arabia swoop north to take control?

At the heart of it all, the Wazir, John of Damascus. Prime minister, spy master, theologian at the heart of our story.

Out in 2026.

Hip hop heart

I have a hip hop heart
Not hip op art
That would be smart
Creative, inventive
But no, it’s no beau
My heart fog mist
Will jerk & twist
And hop to show
Where it should not go

I get annoyed with it
How you’re deployed is s**t
I’ll swear & curse the git
That my heart just don’t sit
And fit to what I’d like of it

My faith in God is undiminished
My hope in medics is not finished
My love of life has not been tarnished
Low mood swings are almost banished

I am though still so prone to chance
The up & down of heart felt dance
I’m two steps back before advance
Praying change in circumstance.