Kevin Mcallion Poet Verse

Sunday Service

They used to flock here
Of a Sunday
For worship and prayer
Lost in a world 
Of private contemplation

Now they come
For that first Sunday pint
Praying for an end
To splitting headaches
And that endless ennui

The wafer and chalice,
God's own flesh and blood
Have given way
To Bacardi breezers
And two for one burger deals

No need for a collection plate
To pay the poor priest's bills
The greedy owners rub their hands
As cash flows into the tills
 
A couple of miles away
Young couples arrive
For a peek around
St Michael's showroom flats

The baptismal font
Of property awaits
If they stump up the cash
And take a leap of faith 

Mortgage advisers
Wait in the wings
With chequebooks open
Ready to earn their corn

For this is modern Britain
Born of Thatcher's greed
And moneylenders in the temple
No longer brings scorn

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Sharon Winter October 8, 2008 at 5:01 AM Wow. Cynical write here here, sadly things have changed quite a bit. As far as your question goes, go to Brian Strand's poem "fulton-Fall" which explains, but yes, you are right it can be any number of letters as long as it is the same amount of lines. If you write one, go to member contests and enter it in his contest. Good luck! Love, Shar