Archive for the ‘poetry’ Category

King Solomons Chair..Chapt 2

Posted: October 27, 2019 in Masonic, Poem, poetry

As many of my family and friends know, Freemasonry is a very important aspect of my life. In addition to my District duties, I also belong to multiple Masonic Lodges and Chapters.

My mother Lodge, Orphic Lodge, District Grand Stewards Lodge, Vrede Lodge, Orphic Royal Arch Chapter and Composite Rose Croix Chapter. A specialist lodge dedicated to Police and Emergency Services, Vrede Lodge welcomed me with open arms, and I found fraternising with like minded serviceman fulfilling. In addition to the usual Masonic requirements, there is one additional pre-requisite to join Vrede…. you must be either a current, or ex-police officer and to boost the membership, we have now opened the doors for membership by current and ex-emergency services.


I was honoured to the elected by the Brethren of Vrede Lodge to lead the lodge into the new year, and this week, was installed as the Worshipful Master.


…Jubilee memorial jewel and collarette worn by the Worshipful Master…

I was last in the Chair in 2011 in Orphic Lodge ( and surprisingly, even though it has been 8 years post that surreal experience, and having attended over 120 Installations as a District officer, I found being installed again felt the same.The poem I wrote in February 2011 remains apt to this day. (

Thank you to my fellow Brethren who have placed their trust in me to lead the Lodge into 2020. It’s going to be a great year !!

So mote it be 

Posted: April 16, 2016 in Masonic, Poem, poetry, Uncategorized

I read this poem today, and felt I had to share…. 

So mote it be

written by: Skyrock Pinkrose
I know a man of faith, hope and charity
This man whom I know for years of nobility

His honor is mine to wear

A name he was proud to bear

He live in the sunlight of Freemasonry

And walk in the ranks of right 
I am my father’s daughter

I carry his name with pride and honour

He was always true 

To the best he knew 

Looks down on me 

To carry his standard high

He is a man and a brother who is “Square”

in all that he “Compasses” 

And to me he gave an honest name, 

integrity and pride
He made me a better person with his light

He made me live my life with heads held high

The man I call my father

Gave strength of me standing tall

He stands my guiding force

My light, my god in disguise
He always said, no matter how old I get

That within thy heart, a princess remains timeless

Biggest fan I am, the man I call my father 

the everlasting image of making good men better

so then with pride let the musical waltz of life to play forever forward 
As I lightly tip toe, across destiny’s ballroom floor.

My dancing card remains eternally full, 

written within one name stands out,

 it is yours my dearest father “Mason”.

So Mote It Be.


The builder

Posted: December 1, 2015 in Masonic, Poem, poetry, Uncategorized

I came across a poem today, and I felt I needed to share it. Whilst it is written by an unknown Masonic Poet over 100 years ago, it truly is relevant in our society as a whole. 

I’ve seen it in my career, from when I was a green newby to 20 years later with an excessive amount of experience (yes, even I was guilty of this, especially as a Station Officer). 

In the EMS its prevalent, and I’ve seen it very common in business as well.  The rationale in the EMS  is to make them stronger…

Ultimately, no matter what the excuse is, the  breaking down of people for is ones own benefit and causes, in most cases, severe long term  damage to ones self esteem.  

Tne motto for Masonry, “making good men better” falls within this space, hence the poem. 

Take a moment , read it, understand it, and look into yourself…

The builder

I saw a group of men in my hometown

A group of men tearing a building down

With a heave and a ho and mighty yell

They swung a beam and an entire wall fell

I asked the supervisor, “Are these men skilled?

The type you’d hire if you wanted to build?”

And he laughed and said, “Why no indeed!

Common labor, people with no talent is all I need

For I can tear down in a day or two

What it took a builder years to do”

And I thought to myself as I walked away

Which of the roles am I going to play?

Am I one who is tearing down

As I carelessly make my way around?

Or am I one who builds with care?

In hopes that my friends (my brothers and sisters)
will be glad I was there?

Yesterday was a very emotional day.  A good friend’s father passed away last week,  and his funeral was yesterday.  To me,  he wasn’t just my friend’s dad…  He was also my Brother. 

Worshipful Brother Errol Thomson died tragically driving home from visiting a nearby lodge.  Having obtained the rank of Assistant Provincial Grand Master of the Grand Lodge of South Africa,  Errol was  well known and loved by all. 


A proud Mason and a loving husband,  father and grandfather,  Errol epitomised what Masonry is.  A gentle soul who loved the outdoors,  he took great pleasure in teaching new Masons in our ancient Craft,  and I grew to respect him more every day.

In the English Constitution,  a newly installed Master traditionally would have 3 Past Masters present the working tools for the 3 degrees in Masonry. 
I was honoured to have Errol present the 2nd degree working tools at my installation,  who accepted my request without hesitation.  Being from a different constitution,  Errol had to study the English ritual,  which he did with great gusto.

The funeral was attended by a wide range of Brethren,  who had the opportunity to bid farewell to our Brother in traditional Masonic ways.  


A pure lambskin apron and a single white glove placed upon the coffin,  with a large sprig of Acasia placed upon them. This symbolism marking one of the most important times in the history of Masonry and an honour bestowed by Brethren to their fallen Brother. 



With the sign of Reverence,  I chose from a basket an Acasia sprig  and placed it alongside the countless others as a token of memories never to be forgotten.

I close this blog with a poem written by an unknown Mason at the funeral of a Brother.

Farewell my Brother and may your dear soul rest in peace in the Grand Lodge above. 

There gathered a throng of the bold, the brave;
They stood around a Brother’s open grave;
Such were the words their leader said, As they sadly bent o’er the sleeping dead:

“Brother! round thy home, thy hearth,
Desolation spreads its dearth;
When the evening birds rejoice,
They thou lov’st will miss thy voice;
Wife, and sisters, bright eyed sons,
They, the lone, and weeping ones;
They, the loving, and the fair,
Brother, they will miss thee there!

“Brother! when yon manly throng
Raise the hymn and swell the song;
When they strike each full-toned string,
To the lay they’re wont to sing;
Will they miss one swelling tone?
Will they think of one that’s gone?
In the hallowed house of prayer,
Brother, they will miss thee there.

“Brother! we have laid this night
Thee beneath the mountain’s height;
We have stood beside thy grave,
We have wept, who could not save.
Shall the world mark us with scorn?
Brother, it is thee we’ve borne.
Shall the stranger mock the tear?
Brother, we have touched thy bier.

“By the vows that passed the night
Of thy new inaugural rite;
By our own, our hallowed sign,
By the love that still is thine;
By the heart and by the hand,
Of our own beloved band;
By the tears which bright eyes shower,
Brother, we are here this hour.

“Shall we wait thy coming feet,
When our noble Lodge shall meet;
Shall we stay to hear them fall;
Shall we wait our Brother’s call?
No! for thou art far away,
From the world, and with the clay;
And may we who still remain,
Stand prepared for Death’s last pain,

“When the sun and moon are fled,
And the graves shall yield their dead;
When the mystic spell is broken,
Of the secret softly spoken;
When the chariots fill the air,
Brother, may we meet thee there!
When the earth’s firm walls are riven,
Brother, may we meet in Heaven!

Author unknown

On 24 June 1717 four London Lodges, which had existed for some time, came together at the Goose and Gridiron Tavern in St Paul’s Churchyard, declared themselves a Grand Lodge and elected Anthony Sayer as their Grand Master. This was the first Grand Lodge in the world.



By George M. Free

What makes a man a Mason, O brother of mine?
It isn’t the due guard, nor is it the sign,
It isn’t the jewel which hangs on your breast
It isn’t the apron in which you are dressed

It isn’t the step, nor the token, nor the grip,
Nor lectures that fluently flow from the lip,
Nor yet the possession of that mystic word
On five points of fellowship duly conferred.

Though these are essential, desirable, fine,
They don’t make a Mason, O brother of mine.
That you to your sworn obligation are true’
Tis that, brother mine, makes a Mason of you.

Secure in your heart you must safeguard and trust,
With lodge and with brother be honest and just,
Assist the deserving who cry in their need,
Be chaste in your thought, in your word and your deed.

Support he who falters, with hope banish fear,
And whisper advice in an erring one’s ear.
Then will the Great Lights on your path brightly shine,
And you’ll be a Mason, O brother of mine.

Your use of life’s hours by the gauge you must try,
The gavel of vices with courage apply;
Your walk must be upright, as shown by the plumb,
On the level, to bourn whence no travelers come,

The Book of your faith be the rule and the guide,
The compass your passions shut safely inside;
The stone which the Architect placed in your care
Must pass the strict test of His unerring square.

And then you will meet with approval divine,
And you’ll be a Mason,O brother of mine.

Happy mothers day

Posted: May 13, 2012 in Family, poetry
Tags: ,

Happy mothers day mom…


Simply Call Her Mom A baby asked God, “They tell me you are sending me to earth tomorrow, but how am I going to live there being so small and helpless?” “Your angel will be waiting for you and will take care of you.” The child further inquired, “But tell me, here in heaven I don’t have to do anything but sing and smile to be happy.” God said, “Your angel will sing for you and will also smile for you. And you will feel your angel’s love and be very happy.” Again the child asked, “And how am I going to be able to understand when people talk to me if I don’t know the language?” God said, “Your angel will tell you the most beautiful and sweet words you will ever hear, and with much patience and care, your angel will teach you how to speak.” “And what am I going to do when I want to talk to you?” God said, “Your angel will place your hands together and will teach you how to pray.” “Who will protect me?” God said, “Your angel will defend you even if it means risking it’s life.” “But I will always be sad because I will not see you anymore.” God said, “Your angel will always talk to you about Me and will teach you the way to come back to Me, even though I will always be next to you.” At that moment there was much peace in Heaven, but voices from Earth could be heard and the child hurriedly asked, “God, if I am to leave now, please tell me my angel’s name.” “You will simply call her, Mom.'” By Bro. RJ Johnson

  I was at Lodge the other night, and a Brother handed me a summons for the installation at another lodge


So I thought, great, Ill go to that…. Then i realised it had already passed. When looked confused, he just smiled and said “look at the back page”.
I turned it round…. And WOW, the in print, is the poem I wrote just after iI was invested for the first time as Worshipful Master of Orphic Lodge.


I can only think it was obtained from my post..
I’m truly honoured, thank you Brethren. When I have written poetry, it really is just my feelings expressed, I never dreamed they would be liked by others.

Farewell to a Brother

Posted: February 15, 2012 in Masonic, Poem, poetry

Yesterday a Brother from my lodge travelled to the Grand Lodge above.
W.Bro Allin Davis, a great mason, fellow Knight, will be sorely missed by all.

I dedicate this poem to him, as he enters the lodge for the final time, and finding his place amongst the Brethren up above.

Farewell my Brother.

I sat in lodge with you

There is a saying filled with cheer,
Which calls a man to fellowship.
It means as much for him to hear
As lies within the brother-grip.
Nay, more! It opens wide the way
To friendliness sincere and true;
There are no strangers when you say To me:
“I sat in lodge with you.

“When that is said, then I am known;
There is no questioning or doubt;
I need not walk my path alone
Nor from my fellows be shut out.
These words hold all of brotherhood
And help me face the world anew
—There’s something deep and rich and good In this:
“I sat in lodge with you.

“Though in far lands one needs must roam,
By sea and shore and hill and plain,
Those words bring him a touch of home
And lighten tasks that seem in vain.
Men’s faces are no longer strange
But seem as those he always knew
When some one brings the joyous change With his:
“I sat in lodge with you.

“So you, my brother, now and then
Have often put me in your debt
By showing forth to other men
That you your friends do not forget.
When all the world seems gray and cold
And I am weary, worn and blue,
Then comes this golden thought I hold —You said:
“I sat in lodge with you.

“When to the last great Lodge you fare
My prayer is that I may be
One of your friends who wait you there,
Intent on your smiling face to see.
We, with the warder at the gate,
Will have a pleasant task to do;
We’ll call, though you come soon or late:
“Come in! We sat in lodge with you!”

A stranger, a grip, and a brother

Posted: February 3, 2012 in Masonic, Poem, poetry

One of the things Im getting used to with my new position, is all the travelling. I’m really enjoying jetsetting around, getting to see all the different places in South Africa. Unfortunately, I havent been too inspired to blog, but today, sitting at the East London airport waiting for my flight, I came across a poem I would like to share. And why you ask?

Because an elderly gentleman approached me, while i was enjoying my coffee, surfing the net, and introduced himself with a handshake.
The masonic grip recognised, he said he saw my ring on my finger, and wanted to say Hi!

I See You’ve Traveled Some

I See You’ve Traveled Some
Wherever you may chance to be;
lwherever you may roam,
far away in foreign landsor
just at Home, Sweet Home;
It always gives you pleasure,
it makes your heart strings humjust
to hear the words of cheer
“I see you’ve traveled some”

“When you get the brother’s greeting
and he takes you by the hand,
it thrills you with a feeling
you cannot understand.
You feel that bond of brotherhood;
that tie that’s sure to come
when you hear him say in a friendly way,
“I see you’ve traveled some.”

And if you are a stranger
in a strange land, all alone
If fate has left you stranded,
dead broke and far from home,
if a stranger stops and takes your hand,
it thrills you – makes you dumb,
when he says with a grip of fellowship,
“I see you’ve traveled some.”

And when your final summons comes
to take a last long trip.
Adorned with Lambskin Apron
white and gems of fellowship.
The Tiler at the Golden Gate
with square and rule and plumb
will size up your deeds and say
“Walk in,I see you’ve traveled some.”

(author unknown)


The famous masonic poet

Posted: January 12, 2012 in Masonic, Poem, poetry
Tags: , , ,

Its been a while since I posted in my blog, and for that, I must apologise. I was wondering what to write about, and it came to me while learning my installation work. Yes, I am taking the chair for the second year running at Orphic Lodge. A great honour to be chosen by your Brethren, even more so for another year.

Anyway, I came across this poem I thought I would share, written over a century ago by a famous poet, Noble Prize winner and Mason.

Rudyard Kipling was initiated into the Lodge of Hope and Perseverance in 1885. He received the Mark Mason degree, founded 3 other lodges. He wrote many poems known throughout the ages, and the few not widely known were those he wrote about the fraternity he belonged to. One of these such poems known is the following.

The Palace

When I was a King and a Mason, a Master Proven and skilled, I cleared me ground for a Palace, such as a King should build.
 I decreed and dug down to my levels; presently, under the silt, I came on the wreck of a Palace, such as a King had built. There was no worth in the fashion; 
there was no wit in the plan; Hither and thither, aimless, the ruined footings ran. 
Masonry, brute, mishandled, but carven on every stone, “After me cometh a Builder; tell him I, too, have known.” 
Swift to my use in my trenches, where my well-planned groundworks grew, I tumbled his quoins and his ashlars, and cut and rest them anew. 
Lime I milled of his marbles; burned it, slaked it, and spread; Taking and leaving at pleasure the gifts of the humble dead. 
Yet I despised not nor gloried, yet, as we wrenched them apart, I read in the razed foundation the heart of that Builder’s heart. 
As he has risen and pleaded, so did I understand The form of the dream he had followed in the face of the thing he had planned. 
When I was a King and a Mason, in the open noon of my pride, They sent me a Word from the Darkness; they whispered and called me aside. 
They said, “The end is forbidden.” They said, “Thy use is fulfilled. Thy Palace shall stand as that other’s, the spoil of a King who shall build.” 
I called my men from my trenches, my quarries, my wharves, and my sheers; All I had wrought I abandoned to the faith of the faithless years. 
Only I cut on the timber; only I carved on the stone: “After me cometh a Builder; tell him I, too, have known.”