Best Church Mouse Poems
If money was no object I wonder where I’d go
I’d love to visit friends who have just moved to Orlando
I could buy a wonderful mansion packed full of treasure
With servants to wait on me, so I could enjoy my leisure
But to move away from everything I know doesn’t appeal to me
Money doesn’t buy you happiness - well not from what I can see
So in reality I would not move away from my little house
I’d give my fortune to charity and live like a church mouse
When I leave this mortal coil I could look down from my home in the clouds
See that others have benefited, for there are no pockets in shrouds
10~21~15
If You Were Rich
Sponsor Mystic Rose
Squeaky and his buddies resided somewhere deep within the church's organ.
That elusive rodent was the bane of the pastor, The Reverend Doctor Morgan!
The reverend almost lost his religion a time or two dealing with sneaky Squeaky,
Since he and his troublesome pals at inopportune times could be rather cheeky!
The doughty Ladies Aid Committee "religiously" prepared the communion bread.
There were 500 saints at The First Baptist Church whose souls must be fed.
For Communion Sunday, each Saturday they stored the bread on kitchen shelves.
'Twas an invitation for Squeaky and his squad to "commune" and gorge themselves!
The formidable Miss Freda Wringerhands had been the organist for forty years.
Hitting a wrong note on the old pump organ was one of her greatest fears!
She was puzzled by a strange "mousy" squeak that was occasionally heard.
The reverend doctor gave her a very reproving glare whenever that occurred!
Just as the reverend doctor finished his prayer and prepared to preach,
A screech awoke Mr. Clyde Backslider who shouted, "son uvva beech!"
His wife Grace fled down the aisle screaming, "Lord, have mercy on me!"
Squeaky had abruptly scaled her panty hose and was playing about her knee!
The Reverend Doctor Morgan did all he could to bring about Squeaky's demise,
But his kith and kin multiplied and produced generations of impish mice!
With the antics of Squeaky the tolerant congregation was somewhat bemused,
But the long-suffering Reverend Doctor Morgan was not at all amused!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
A story with a twist, so sit down so you won't miss this!
Now I'm sitting at home, and dam I'm all alone, wishing this man of mine would just pick up his freaking phone!
I feel the need to have him here, to have his body near. Why is he not answering? Is it because he doing dirt, addressing someone else's matters?
I have called him once! I have called him twice!
The next time won't be so nice.
I just might forget that I loved and missed him in the first place, causing me to feel like I'm having to waste, waste my valuable time on a man of this kind.
See he's making it hard for the next man.
I hate to see the next soul coming after him.
And If you sitting out there thinking about yourself at a chance with me, don't think then you wouldn't be exempt.
Now more time has passed, and yet he hasn't accepted these calls.
Must a sister go ballistic and go make this man another statistic?
Maybe, I need to jump up already pass pissed enough, go outside, jump in my ride, pick up my friend, then go visit this man.
Now, I'm driving to his house, so lowkey, quiet as a church mouse.
Knock hard on his door, and watch his heart hit the floor, because now I'm super pissed because he's been missed, left me feeling dissed.
He opens the door, falls to his knees begging me, please.
Please for what I ask? I sometimes feel as if you are wearing a mask.
Sometimes I don't know who you are, but you are showing thus far that you can't be trusted, and why are you acting like you just got busted?
What's that sound I heard echoing around?
Now I'm walking toward my man's bedroom door, and as I kick in the door. I saw boyfriend Joe, hit his bedroom floor!
Caleb is a noisy boy
With a lot of noisy toys
Like cars that "vroom", "boop" and "crash"
And video games that "boom", "fwoop" and "splash"
He's got air planes that "swoosh" and "swish"
Even has bath toys that bubble like fish
He had a balloon that would soar and whistle
Until it went "pop!" upon a thistle
He bounces his balls up and down the hall
And throws his darts against the wall
He even likes the chatter of checker pieces
And the games he plays with all my nieces
And my nephew, making muscle dolls wrestle
I mean "action figures", they snap like pretzels
And he's not too old to enjoy V-tech
Because he can add his own sound effects
Hissing like snakes, buzzing like dirt dobbers
Now he does war games, cops and robbers
He shoots cap guns "pow", "pow", "pow" in rhythm
We see the enemy and he says, "Let's get 'em!"
Yes I play too, but not as much as he wants
I give out more easily, his energy haunts
Just when I think he's tuckered out like a church mouse
He's screaming and jumping on me in the house
From 6 a.m. until late at night around 9
I love his noises because Caleb is mine
Existence is jam-packed with such deadly traps,
You would wonder why its Author made it so;
You never are sure and ever live on borrowed time
For its turns may any time deal you a terminal blow.
You breathe when you find you can,
And will not be there to raise a query
Regarding your untimely and unfair decease,
When short it’s cut your mortal merry.
You suffer and cry when you have a tear,
And still get more of the dreaded stuff;
You make new resolves but your will is weak
And so you forget them all in a huff.
You know the way you should go
But your legs are light and easy to tempt,
So you end up taking the wrong course
And end up ruing the resolutions unkept.
If a believer, you increase your bootless prayers
And hope that someone up there will hear your cry,
But find your very woes increasing day after day
Till you accept your immutable plight and cease to try.
Whether blind rich or church-mouse poor, every man has his woes;
The poor man is ever crying over all the possible opportunities lost,
The young will always have to contend unfulfilled infatuations,
And the millionaire will ever bawl over a business deal unclosed.
So rather than file on through the shortened pages of time,
Men should spurn all the care and feel happy throughout;
In plenty and in dearth, in love and in hate –
For why invest in care and still have to doubt?
too much or too little,
the storys abound ,
the rich n the poor,
on the merry-go-round,
happiness-health- give me more,
till i canter across the fatal shore,
poor as a church mouse this old hound,
forever for bloody sure:)
Don
re: EASY WAY OUT AT 83
Daver Austin
Out of Rhyme
I stand accused in my prime
Of stealing nickels and a dime
But not enough to pay the fine
So, off to prison doing time
Innocent of any crime
I see the fence I need to climb
Shoot to kill says the sign
I really hope that guard is blind
Praying, the alarm don't chime
I made the fence, so far so fine
Slipping over, I crossed the line
As quiet as a church mouse mime
Crawling in the grease and grime
Wading through the muck and slime
Made it past the oaks and pines
To the banks of the Rhine
Sipping slowly into the brine
Wish I had a sip of wine
But focused on the bump and grind
I feel like I've been dipped in lime
Or covered with a lump of chyme
Sorry I had to leave behind
All those that are bound by rhymes
THE ANGELS:
Oh!
My angels,
My hands are in the,
Air for you,
Pardon me for abandoning,
You for some times, age,
Like Ojukwu properties,
In Lagos state.
My angels,
I am sorry for sometimes that,
I was like Adam and Eve.
I know that being the
Church mouse that I am
Today is my fault.
My angels,
Thank you for staying
With me in time of
War and difficulties
Like Biafra’s
Thank you for being with
Me in the time I died and,
Come back life again.
My angels,
Thank you for being
With me in
They day I was judge and
And sent to hell,
But who brought me back?
My angels,
Thank you for songs
Of promise you teach me
Day by day.
Shall I intimate you of?
The next war?
Will you fight me?
Again?
THEMES
1. Assistance help
2. War
3. Message
4. Kindness.
NIGERIANS PRISONERS:
We are Nigerian prisoners,
We are not happy.
Where are our counterparts?
We are Nigerian prisoners,
Here we are,
Here we are like a cat.
We are calm and cool like, you.
Every Sundays we puts on jeans like,
Our brethren in deeper life church,
But you put on they suits,
We are not happy.
We are now like the,
Christians but you are,
Are like the crusader, we,
Are not happy, the hour,
Of our service has emerged,
But the gates are not opened,
We are not happy.
We have referees but,
You are still playing rough,
We are not happy,
What of our javelins and it’s,
Field, what will the,
Audience do,
We are not happy,
When will our gates,
Be open? We know that
We are prisoners,
But we will still more.
Obasanjo has been here,
But Abacha is yet to come,
Mandela has been here,
But Yaraduwa is not.
Chimaroke Nnamani has,
Been here,
But Ben Ariugu is yet to come,
Dr. Orjiuzo Kalu has been here,
But Surlivan Chime is yet to come,
Nnamdi Kalu has been here,
But we did not see Asari Tokumbo,
We are not happy.
THEMES
1. Equality before the law.
2. Patience
3. Partiality
4. Corruption
5. Obedience
6. Repentance
7. Baic
8. Hardship
9. Innocent
10. Responsibility
Being a gentleman farmer, should be wiser
selecting the correct type of fertiliser,
perhaps request information from adviser
would sure need to be free, because I'm a miser,
won't even spend money on an analyser,
just a poor farmer paid less than supervisor,
though some say I'm a cheater a womaniser,
no time for that, busy as an organiser
a good business man, provider, merchandiser
I sell my produce no need for advertiser,
how much for animal feed?need tranquilliser,
as poor as a church mouse just a compromiser.
Composed 16/1/2017
Checked on howmanysyllables.com.
12 by 12 monorhyme contest.
"If I turn left, I'll drive right through that house"
He can't read a map, but insists he's right.
I grip the wheel, silent as a church mouse,
This is going to be a long, long night.
"The map says to go left, you missed the turn"
It's as if he's blind to what's real on Earth,
Crashing the car might help him see and learn,
But, the damage would cost more than it's worth.
"There isn't any left-" I start to say,
Then I realize the map is upside-down.
A funny end to a wonderful day,
I tell him, laughing; he gives me a frown.
He says "Not my fault. The map isn't clear."
I just smile. "Whatever you say, dear."
It’s the slip of a name.
An accident, you claim.
It’s the breath drawing out of me,
And red is all I can see.
A deafening silence heard,
Tears fill my eyes, vision blurred.
It’s quiet like a church mouse,
Silent screaming through the house.
It’s a deafening quiet,
A heart breaking riot.
It’s the sound of your laughter,
Pretending to care right after.
Never a sincere apology,
When you do it just to hurt me.
It the excuses of a joke,
But still my heart broke.
Its tears burning down my face,
While I try to react with little grace.
The sound of a world shattered.
Promises made now tattered.
It’s the sound of goodbye coming fast,
When all you wanted was to make it last.
Trying to hide how it stung,
To hear her name roll off your tongue.
The sound of a heart break,
Deafening silence I can’t take.
It's cold out this morning
too cold for the dew to settle,
and the sun has barely showed itself.
It is early enough for coffee
eggs, pancakes, sausage...
and after a cigarette and another cup,
as the piano plays slow and soft
off in some back room of the house.
Quiet as a church mouse,
as I listen to composed beauty
of keys being pressed and music
coming and going.
No one plays the piano
it just sits there covered in dust,
but I remember when it was touched
in the right spots
and gave out the most lovely and warm sounds.
I've lived a life of virtue
to make an Angel blush with shame.
And my many deeds of sacrifice
have brought honor to my name.
Though as humble as a church mouse
and always deep in prayer.
I've been asking God if it wouldn't hurt
to give me just a bigger share.
Now I don't have much to show
for a life given to pious thought.
Unless you count a gift from God
which is an empty parking spot.
Because no matter what the time of day,
someone's always on the go.
And I'm swiftly there to take the space
no matter how the traffic flows.
Some people are blessed with a dozen kids
and others have great fame
While some may count their lucky stars
their health will stay the same.
But as for me... I should be pleased
with the little that I've got
Because no matter what the traffic mess...
I get my parking spot.
The priest loved his flock in Sicily ...
Easter and the Mass were fast approaching.
The church was decorated prettily.
On it, and his flock, priest was doting.
He made sure he knew people by name ...
Some he had known for years.
His favourite was one who was lame -
So sad ... the priest was often in tears.
Now, this lame man had a fit in the church
In the middle of Easter Mass.
The timing could not have been worse,
And the rest of the Mass was dashed.
To the man, the priest kindly offered his house.
The man came quietly, like a church mouse.
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A Modern Sonnet
10/23/2015
Contest - In the name of love
Sponsor - Shadow Hamilton
A win
Tick. tock
Tick.tock.
Around runs the church mouse.
The choir head
Lifts his hand
And the mouse scurries on.
Tick, tock
Tick, tock
Around naps the church cat
The cat does play
A piano somedays
When no one is around.