Get Your Premium Membership


A dark cloud appeared on the horizon, Its shadow blotted out the summer sun. A rumble of thunder Echoed throughout the meadow Bringing fear to the Sunday sinners. He stood tall in the pulpit Righteous, eyes rolling, spitting fire, and brimstone to His quivering flock. The young huddled close by. Mothers quietly listened. Passively accepting The hellish fire That awaited them. The preacher, Eyes blazing. Cast out demons and Spoke in tongues. Sinners forgiven, The thunderstorm abated. Then, purged of all anger, The ram jumped off His granite Pulpit And peace to the meadow was restored

Copyright © | Year Posted 2013

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

Date: 1/22/2014 7:49:00 PM
He must have preached one hell of a sermon!
Login to Reply
Date: 11/16/2013 12:45:00 PM
Sunday, SONday.
Login to Reply
Date: 8/19/2013 2:56:00 PM
wow! What a Sunday... kind of gloomy, peaceful ending... Linda you write well....xox~ Linda
Login to Reply