Best Presbyterian Poems
chieftains trade their loyalty behind the clouds
high mountain king Carrantouhil commanding his Macgillycuddy Reeks
men of begotten rank, scheming skulduggery
secrets hide out of sight, Comeragh mystery shrouds Coumshingaun
flighty earls flee from the Lough Swilly shore
priests conspire, a king, a queen, a lord-protectorate exact revenge
imported evil stalks the land and soul of Ireland
near-on half give way, massacre, starvation, transportation and slavery
annexation by stealth, abomination
exposed Shannon artery, remorseless draining through lakes of tears
solidified karst corpses dissolving
into central mireland, ringed by coastal ramparts and remnant towers
turloughs disappear where the ground is leaking
playboys drink from black frothy pools of humour where the craic is good
where sad refrain gives way to rhythmic distraction
where song, stories, poetry, plays and dance merge in murky island brews
native chiefs are stripped of their Ulster lands
to control, anglicise and civilise a rebellious region
the area most resistant to English rule
official and private plantation, top to bottom colonisation
Gaelic hands across the channel disrupted
Scottish and English incomers, presbyterian and church of England
town and country, protestant domination
Irishmen uniting for briefest moments on higher ground
descent into cold depths of history
the Cliffs of Moher plunging from The Burren's bald barren bleakness
disfigured fingers pointing blame, shame and guilt
like the peninsular lands, Beara to Iveragh, Mizen to Dingle
stretching out to a new land of migrating hope
escaping abuse and clutches of long-robed men and women
the stifling heavy hand of implanted culture
two main layers of tradition now overlaying an unfathomable past
Categories:
presbyterian, community, history, ireland, time,
Form:
Narrative
Each person who makes the confession
That Jesus is Lord and God raised Him from the dead
And they are truly sincere and they seek God to live holy
Are all members of God’s family
All members of God’s family who are truly dedicated to God
All members of God’s family who are serious about being ambassadors for Christ have callings on their lives and one or more gifts they can use for the great commission
People make a big deal about the wrong things in churches outside of their own or even think their home church or churches within their denomination are the only good churches when the reality is anyone living by the Bible and have experienced new birth and at least have a strong desire to fulfill their duties to God are righteous
It’s not the churches that make the Christians; it’s the Christians that make the churches and leadership should always stay in tune with the Lord because they have double accountability.
Some of are Baptist, some Methodist, some Apostolic, some Presbyterian, some Church of Christ, some Church of God in Christ and many people in today’s time worship in non-denominational churches. And that’s just a few.
But, those of us who obey and have a true relationship with the Lord are part of God’s family and as far as the anointing only being in certain churches, that’s only true when we as Christians fail to bring the anointing to the table every time we go to church; it is our duty to help set the atmosphere and take our gifts outside of church walls.
Some of all preachers, some teachers, some speakers, some creative writers, some singers, some musicians, and some of us can do nothing more than cook or do hair and nails. All of this can used to build God’s kingdom and makes all believers fit into the family of God.
Remember, the family of God consists of the entire body of Christ and instead of all this division, we should screaming out to those outside of the family of God “There’s room at the cross; get saved today!”
Categories:
presbyterian, faith, god, family, family,
Form:
Blank verse
Assured in her beliefs,
My Grandma knew the score:
Not many folk would get to Heaven;
The following would be ignored.
A black man, Jew, Italian,
Catholic, Greek, or Slav,
Misguided Presbyterian,
Adolescent plotting Love.
The Poor, because they should have saved,
The Rich who had too much,
The Drunkard for his need,
The Cripple for his crutch.
Soda jerks (that's bottled drink)
Beauticians? Vanity.
A neighbor Boy once sat with me
Beneath the willow tree.
All these she held apart,
In Scripture being able
Secure in righteousness to find
For diversity a label.
For In-laws she had Charity,
A level Christian measure,
Sufficient thus to demonstrate
Duty over Pleasure.
Of children, there were three,
(Increase will prevail)
Precisely formed and tolerated,
Though indeed one was a Male!
This identical deficiency
Was incumbent on her Spouse.
(Something like an in-law
Only always in the house.)
I'd have liked, Grandma, to see you greet
The missionaried Heathen
Whose Souls the eggs were sold to save.
Just who is let into your Heaven?
So cleverly you read the text,
So sweet you sang the song.
I love you, Grandma, you tried so hard
And got everything so wrong!
Categories:
presbyterian, christian, devotion, discrimination, faith,
Form:
Rhyme
Always used to confuse
Pedestrians with presbyterians
Understandable I suppose
Given my limited vocabulary
Watch out presbyterian crossing
ahead
Certainly some caution justified
Wouldnt want to run one over
There'd be bagpipes at the funeral
And one less at the Hogmanay
Categories:
presbyterian, satire
Form:
Free verse
There were warning signs proclaiming "DANGEROUS CURVE AHEAD!"
But no one paid much attention to them as on they recklessly sped!
On that treacherous stretch was a bend known as "Dead Man's Curve,"
Where many souls began their eternal bourne because they failed to swerve!
Other signs along that mountain road had more profound things to say,
That should have alerted folks to slow down ere there'd be a price to pay!
"PREPARE TO MEET THY GOD!" was erected by the Presbyterian Church,
But speeders ignored that sermon and met their doom for failing to lurch!
"ARE YOU PREPARED TO MEET JESUS?" admonished another sign.
This one was sponsored by the Baptist Church and was nailed to a pine.
But this homily went unheeded and many guys crashed through the railing,
Sailing o'er the thousand foot cliff, their auto, the desert floor impaling!
"THE WAGES OF SPEEDING IS DEATH!" read this creative message!
The Happy Valley Church of God had posted this not so subtle presage!
The Pentecostal Church's warning sign read "REPENT ERE 'TIS TOO LATE!"
'Twill ne'er be known how many ignored that hint, rushing to their fate!
The valley floor below was strewn with wrecked Buicks, Cadillacs and Fords,
Dodge pickup trucks, Happy Times motor homes and four Honda Accords!
On that winding stretch 'tis best to heed signs regarding "Dead Man's Curve"
Ere you join those hapless souls who met their doom 'cause they failed to swerve!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
presbyterian, funny, happy, happy,
Form:
Rhyme
The man in black alit from the stagecoach that hot and sultry day.
With his hat he brushed dust from his suit as he surveyed old Santa Fe.
He pulled his hat down over his eyes as he strode to the nearby saloon.
Who was this mysterious stranger? A gambler or a business tycoon?
There was a prominent bulge under his coat where a pistol might be.
He carried a fine leather valise, its contents provoking curiosity!
He was clad in the finest cloth and was built like an old rugged oak,
Wore white linen, fine leather boots, topped off with a stylish cloak!
He sat down with a sigh, took off his hat and ordered a bottle of rye.
He took not a nip but said, "Fellows, step up! A drink for you I'll buy!"
That was unusual - free booze - they scarcely knew what to think!
But the town rabble and ne'er-do-wells flew to his table for a drink!
In the meantime, the sheriff received word about this new man in town.
He rushed to the saloon with hands on his rods to calm things down!
"What's yer business here, pilgrim? I don't want any trouble!
If you're here to gamble or pimp, you kin leave town on the double!"
"Calm down, mister sheriff! I aim to help you in maintaining the peace!
To deal with those who flaunt the law and help crime to decrease!
May I introduce myself, sir. I'm the Reverend Mister Percival Brown,
And I aim to settle here and build a Presbyterian church in your town!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
presbyterian, cowboy-western, funny, old, business,
Form:
Rhyme
A hush fell o'er the Little Kirk Presbyterian Congregation,
Anticipating the annual Sunday School Christmas presentation.
The solemn flock, (usually obsessed with predestination),
Relaxed in their pews to enjoy Jesus' birthday celebration!
For weeks, moms had fashioned halos, stars and angels' wings,
Also, beards, crowns and robes for the trio of royal kings.
Over and over, harried teachers rehearsed the little dears.
This promised to be the smoothest pageant production in years!
Alas, things didn't go as conceived from the very start!
Kids bawled for Mom and Dad while others forgot their part!
Tho' Cindy Lou could at times be quite the prima donna,
She was chosen to star in the role of Mary the Madonna.
Little angels hovered about, their wings all askew.
The shepherds milled about not knowing what to do.
Joseph toyed with the Jesus doll and it cried, "I want my mama!"
Causing parishioners to titter, detracting from the drama!
The pastor read the Christmas Story from the account in Luke.
The kids harmonized on "Away in the Manger", a propitious fluke!
They portrayed the Christmas Miracle, despite some serious flaws,
And for their efforts received a standing round of applause!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Categories:
presbyterian, confusionchristmas, christmas,
Form:
Rhyme
My Lydia, my Lydia,
You undoubtedly have contracted chlamydia.
During one of your sex-capades,
In a beloved city, somewhere in Syria, or India,
Or presumably from the talented guy,
You willingly met at the cafeteria in Nigeria.
maybe it was the Presbyterian at the meridian?
Oh My Lydia, my Lydia, you say its just trivia
Remember Olivia from Bolivia contracted diphtheria.
She customarily wore a bougainvillea in her hair.
After every consensual affair, with eccentric millionaires
I saw her today she looked worn and in despair,
Even though mature life was unfair, she still had a little flair.
and wore a fragrant flower in her flowing hair.
My Lydia, my Lydia what's that, you say, you don’t care.
Categories:
presbyterian, dark, fantasy, feelings, health,
Form:
Free verse
In Encino there's a veterinarian
who is the Valleys rudest contrarian
He'll insult a shy tabby
Greet a pug: Hey there, flabby!
But at home, he's a kind Presbyterian
5/17/22
Categories:
presbyterian, humor,
Form:
Limerick
A God-honored teacher, Miss Ruth Vance
His gift to our town, His circumstance.
No replacing her bulging tote bag -
It was priceless, minus the Gucci tag."
and now the rest of the story....
Teacher extraordinaire, Miss Ruth Vance
taught eighth graders about life, perchance.
From first grade to twelfth, school musician.
Music was her primary mission.
For Halloween, she'd parade the whole school
round and round the gym! What a jewel!
Her eighth graders always danced the May Pole.
Pomp and Circumstance, our seniors' goal.
Christmas plays displayed her special niche;
school choirs of all ages sang without a hitch.
Our Mary Poppins with overstuffed school bag -
Miss Ruth, musician, teacher and wag.
Sundays at noon, she played the town postlude
doors thrown wide open, all ears were glued...
Baptists, Methodists going home from church
heard Miss Ruth, at her Presbyterian perch.
January 4, 2021
contest: Clerihew
sponsor: Regina McIntosh
Categories:
presbyterian, 11th grade, christmas, halloween,
Form:
Clerihew
Towering sycamores embraced, forming canopies over the streets.
Crime was unknown - (three part-time cops patrolled their beats.)
'Cept for teens in hot-rods who were bent on an occasional toot!
Folks were entertained as cops chased them in hot pursuit!
There was a Fourth of July parade with fireworks after dark.
Presbyterian and Baptist ladies served watermelon in the park.
Old vets in tight-fitting uniforms marched with resolute stride,
Followed by the school band in which the town took great pride!
The paperboy was prompt with the news to enjoy with a cup of joe,
(Tho' it usually landed in the bushes due to his ill-aimed throw!)
Folks greeted friends and neighbors with a hearty, "Howdy do!"
Pausing to swap a bit of gossip since they had little else to do!
Proms were held in the school gym and didn't leave a feller broke.
Idlers met at the barber shop to hear the latest risque joke.
Kids sold lemonade on their lawns for a dime a glass,
But urbane lads visited the ice cream parlor to treat their lass!
Church bells summoned worshippers on Sundays with clarion peal.
Moms invariably fixed chicken and dumplings for the Sunday meal!
I have many fond memories of small town life that I can't forget.
I return to relive those blissful days every chance that I can get!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Categories:
presbyterian, nostalgiaschool, school, , for
Form:
Rhyme
I’m carbon-based,
Resurrection cornerstone foundation laid
Diamond made
These obsidian eyes
sardius shine ...
agate Illuminating
my igneous bright coal face
With volcanic intensity,
my onyx lips glow
And the chest cavity
pressure beneath
fire paint
these
pulmonary
walls
Sparkling carbuncle candlelight beats,
which wax amethyst faithfully
through the opaque, misty waterfalls
A Morning Star rebirth future
was the burning bush path
I chose to embrace
Forged in the hardest fires,
I was fashioned
with mercy and grace
Mind unbendable ... spirit unbreakable
Thus, I declare: I’m Diamond made
From the naked sunburst moment
understanding first clothed me,
I was emerald told
my birthright as a slave —
Sky-sculpted, unfettered Sapphire tears
that were Diamond made
My first father chain-born,
felt the most pressure
ever
put upon
a clay-skin carbon vessel
My first shipped mother,
iron umbilical link womb held
in a dungeon cargo cell,
taught her children wisely
not to murder rebel
And the pressure to bottle that rage,
blew the doors off the cage
of my bloodline’s collective captive mind
Unlimited cosmic expansion
was our cherubic wings, innervision legacy
A spinning free-thought pulsar, Supernova aorta core,
which turquoise topaz bleed
And the pressure in their veins,
from the plantation struggles and the
abolition strivings,
was peacefully presbyterian passed down to me
Genetic roots pressure burst the oppression pipes,
and let the chrysolyte wind in my beryl lungs
jacinth breathe DNA free
Ruby righteous spirit flow to the firmament
was my ligure liberated destiny
I’m the dove offspring of Love Infinity,
pure carbon-based ...
Double blessing of joy,
that is 24/7 carat cut,
be my jasper posterity legacy
I’m Diamond made —
Resurrection cornerstone foundation laid
Sapphire twin palm pressure
is all these praying, crystal eyes ever did need
Categories:
presbyterian, identity, spiritual, truth, visionary,
Form:
Bio
It was approved by the Session and duly recorded by the Clerk
That the youth would perform the Nativity Play at the Presbyterian Kirk.
'Twas further resolved that Sister Smythe, who had a proclivity
For curious creativity, would again manage this annual activity!
Venerable Sister Smythe had staged the event since time immemorial,
But, alas, could be quite testy and at times rather dictatorial!
Generations of kids had acted in this solemn yearly affair.
Now their kids suffered beneath her stern, withering glare!
Stage-struck moms maneuvered above and around each other,
Boosting their little darling for the role of The Holy Mother!
Sister Smythe made her selection after a grilling examination.
Alas, the little lass forgot her lines to Sister Smythe's consternation!
The lad playing Joseph was found asleep and missed his cue.
Two of the Wise Men tripped and sprawled, spoiling their debut!
Kids dressed as sheep sounded like braying mules from sounds they did emit.
This caused the harried Sister Smythe another thundering snit!
Poor Sister Smythe lay abed a couple of weeks to recover,
As solicitous Session members around her did pray and hover.
Despite the vexations, she'll rule again next year - she'll survive,
To shepherd other kids to make the Christmas Story come alive!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Categories:
presbyterian, funnysister, sister, myth, ,
Form:
Rhyme
and intuitive paramour, whence swooning swain first experienced anew
an alien emotional lightness of being
within mine hardened carapace did brew
a propensity to surmise, intuit, and detect a romantic joyful dew
drop similar to lovers in dustbin of historical annals
dipped ‘ere farewell flew
common as the air we breathe,
this new found muse sic cull passion grew
yet handled with kid gloves,
which lacked the means to nurture and hue
a novel interpersonal ecstasy, which with fits and starts knew
tony yen physics manifested into a mutual attraction
despite any self-admission new
to this chap, whose skills sans intimacy infantile
and as a result inadvertently caused grief
to a gal (who valiantly christened her vehicle Ruby)
hoping to stride down the pew
which outcome thwarted,
now tis much more sands of mine life time
funneled down the hourglass shaped queue
without any rhyme nor reason find this bard **** to rue
how a golden opportunity indiscriminately
lost a flickr and sentiments now
akin to culinary Michelin patshke stew
rather futile to ruminate
the long lapsed travails that tripped a true
lee darling dame, whose take on the matter,
this poet would cherish a view
yet….nary a clue exists
if any possibility to revisit that denouement recalling
the awkward fits and starts
before embers of warm reciprocity kindled
reciprocal an ambition to court, jest and indubitably woo
to flip and shutterfly at greased lightening speed
back to that contra dance at Summit Presbyterian Church
at the cross roads of Green and Westview Avenues.
Categories:
presbyterian, absence, age, birthday, break
Form:
Romanticism
and intuitive paramour, whence swooning swain first experienced anew
an alien emotional lightness of being within mine hardened carapace did brew
a propensity to surmise, intuit, and detect a romantic joyful dew
drop similar to lovers in dustbin of historical annals dipped ‘ere farewell flew
common as the air we breathe, this new found muse sic cull passion grew
yet handled with kid gloves, which lacked the means to nurture and hue
a novel interpersonal ecstasy, which with fits and starts knew
tony yen physics manifested into a mutual attraction
despite any self-admission new
to this chap, whose skills sans intimacy infantile
and as a result inadvertently caused grief
to a gal (who valiantly christened her vehicle Ruby)
hoping to stride down the pew
which outcome thwarted, now tis much more sands of mine life time
funneled down the hourglass shaped queue
without any rhyme nor reason find this bard **** to rue
how a golden opportunity indiscriminately
lost a flickr and sentiments now akin to culinary Michelin patshke stew
rather futile to ruminate the long lapsed travails that tripped a true
lee darling dame, whose take on the matter, this poet would cherish a view
yet….nary a clue exists if any possibility to revisit that denouement recalling
the awkward fits and starts before embers of warm reciprocity kindled
reciprocal an ambition to court, jest and indubitably woo
to flip and shutterfly at greased lightening speed
back to that contra dance at Summit Presbyterian Church
at the cross roads of Green and Westview Avenues.
Categories:
presbyterian, absence, adventure, age, appreciation,
Form:
Elegy