Best Rector Poems
What Jesus Means To Me
This poem is based on sermon by Father Dave Davis,
Rector of St. James Episcopal Church, Shallotte, NC
on March 22, 2015. Gospel for Day was John 12:20-23.
Maybe they might put my poem on their website.
What Jesus Means To Me
Who is this Jesus supposed to be?
What should He really mean to me?
Of course, He is our Lord and Savior
And want to find myself in His favor.
There are things that I do not deny
Want Jesus to be a nice, great guy
Being available and also convenient
And like Him best when He is lenient.
What is it that we want Jesus to do?
Be nice and make dreams come true;
Answer prayers each and every one;
When He's around have a lot of fun.
Have Jesus help me grow and grow
And where it is I might have to go
Be with me up until my dying day
To heaven be sure to take me away.
Do I have to be much more direct?
What is it I am supposed to expect?
From Jesus but know that I am glad
His big job to do I never, ever had.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and
Member of Board of Vestry
and 2d Helpings Program
Categories:
rector, religious,
Form:
Couplet
He
travelled
far and wide,
studied Arabic :
A famous orientalist :
An Oxford scholar and doctor of Divinity.
Here
was
a man,
the Rector
of Childrey parish,
the Reverend Edward Pococke.
He
planted
in the year
sixteen forty two,
a cedar of Lebanon seed.
Now
the
oldest
cedar tree
in this pleasant land
still grows in the Old Rectory
in the delightful village of Childrey, Oxfordshire.
Categories:
rector, history, travel, tree,
Form:
Fibonacci
I am a high school graduate and a former college student
I have no children
No drug or alcohol addiction
nor do I have a home
I am one of Brick City's homeless
Many of the faces I've seen downtown are the same faces I see at the soup kitchen or the shelter
The same quirky, ragged, foul-smelling, quiet homeless people
But these aren't the only homeless people
Many of the faces I've seen at the soup kitchen or at the shelter,
I've also seen downtown
The same outgoing, inconspicuous and "average" yet homeless people
I used to assume I'd pass up to 10 of the same homeless people downtown
Now that I'm one of them
and pretty much every homeless person knows every homeless person
You'd probably feel blessed and highly favored when I tell you that the majority of adult pedestrian traffic downtown are homeless United State citizens
The majority are homeless
We're at the library, McDonald's, Penn Station, 18 Rector, 50 South Clinton, all Essex County Parks, 990, Red Doors, St. Johns
or the sidewalk with our book bags, purses, suitcases and our will, however weak or strong, to live for right now
We get in where we fit in
The most thrilling part of my day is knowing what time the next soup kitchen serves and when I'm unconscious and dreaming
Most are not bums
Most are caught in a cyclical cycle of destitution because they have a record and can't qualify for anything other than a 9-5
Or don't have a job because there are no jobs and don't have anyone to take care of them without taking advantage of their situation, be it sexually or by an unfair criminal or immoral request
Most of us just can WAIT until!
. . . and there's no one here to help me right now
I understand though:
It's likewise
This homeless lifestyle encourages me to keep dreaming, faintly hope and never expect anything
My high hopes and expectations left me ____ out in the streets of Newark
It's 4 o'clock
. . . On to the next soup kitchen
Categories:
rector, introspection, journey, me, me,
Form:
Free verse
The sermons nearly finished, suddenly a happening befalls my eyes
Our congregation now sits silent, amidst echoing tearful cries
An old man we know as Tommy, he's the retired Rector of our Academy
Now lying silent on the stone cold flagstones, he disappeared from see
Motionless to ashen in lie, worried faces in concern surround
Whilst a face appears from the tears, slowly kneeling on this hallowed ground
In tenderness sigh exhale, her hands now adorn his chest
In gentle moving motion, resuscitation is now addressed
Minutes appear like hours, when suddenly two eyes now open see
Where I'm sitting like others around, what's happening in front of thee
No miracles are cried out loud, simply a calmness by she who coped
All because a face from our congregation, gave us a moment for hope
Categories:
rector, death, hope, life,
Form:
Couplet
O Fault!
Horrendously I believed, a man solitary,
Was real alive stood, aftermath Tsunami.
On top of a roof, standing overwhelming,
Looking towards wreckage and towns’ declining.
Devastation of property, food water shortage,
Ancestral heritage, swept away by chase.
Culturally rich even, 100 years liven,
No escape what to do, in front of threat.
Earthquake shook foundation, with nine Rector Scales,
Tsunami you remained disheartened in mid of wails.
You forgot to wait albeit; they’re previously swept,
Probably tremor sent message, to frozen Japan the best.
World remained sterilized, forgetting heavenly shape,
Life swallowed grief, at the mid of deface.
Such irrational calamities, occurred upon lives,
Stop genocide heading, towards human’s face.
Without noticing, why did you demolish race?
Love us then only, we stir to generate lives,
Otherwise we’ve to chain sack, for next sister planet.
We’re poor creature, you’re great genuine,
Bureaucracy impinged, havoc terminating shrine.
O fault! Mind your business, if you want life to begin.
Categories:
rector, bereavement, conflict, death, funeral,
Form:
Concrete
Suck blood like a vampire from a strange empire ,
Not invited but invite herself,
Pass through tiny holes and mesh of the net to
Set her proboscis on the skin…
Night crawler and unwanted flying creature ..
Dances around your earlobe to infuriate you..And ..
You end up slapping your ear with a big bang..!
Her piecing mouth part sends strong signals to
the brain which can make the sane to be insane ..
Fever is the outcome ,running temperature is his friend ,
And headache the mother..of all murders….
Anaemia plus lassitude will pay you a warm visit ,
Leading to excursion to the doctor’s home ;
Lab test shows plasmodium or salmonella…or …what?
Carried by this vector or rector called female anopheles…
....Mosquito.......
2-27-2017
Categories:
rector, animal, nature,
Form:
Free verse
Dorset poet Wiilam Barnes they do say
a C of E rector in his day
Determined to de-saxonise
clothed his verse in dialectic disguise
Categories:
rector, people, poetry,
Form:
Clerihew
You think,
I blink.
Curves called,
Not bawled.
Tan can,
Scope fan.
Change rate,
In state.
Vector,
Rector.
Equals,
Owls.
Calc weight,
The rate.
Applied,
Filed tiled.
Practice,
Chalice.
Building,
Wielding.
NASA,
Bless her.
Eco,
Set mo.
Eco,
Set blow.
Medic,
Metric.
Bio,
We know.
Techo,
Clear row.
For us,
Deluxe.
Human,
The lan.
Footprint,
In mint.
Graphs pie,
Grey dye.
Only;
Found eye.
Cosine,
No twine.
Sin blare,
We care.
Categories:
rector, body, life, nature, planet,
Form:
Footle
You failed once. You failed twice. Time for you to retest,
Even if it means that each day you have to skip recess.
So far you have failed every course that you took,
As if you never learned how to open up a book.
Don't talk in class, just listen to the lesson being taught.
You know that I have no chance of ever being caught.
The odds of you ever beating me look rather grim when stacked.
My creativity and wit are clearly intact.
In fact, my superiority I am about to enact.
Your words get out of whack, whenever you get smacked.
Because you could not pay attention to a word that I said,
I had to pull out my ruler and smack you upside the head.
And, that smack across your head really had to sting.
I bet it is the reason why you did not hear the bell ring.
How many more mistakes will you make me mention?
I have what it takes to put you in a permanent detention.
Mentioning others is such an unpleasant practice to see.
Stay focused! You have a hard enough time trying to slam me.
Leave my friends alone, and just let those people be,
And pay attention to the lesson that I am giving you for free.
Pathetic Whorelock, I am going to do you a little favor.
I am going to spice up this battle, just to give you a little flavor;
With imagery just like an old game of Pictionary.
So, you need to go and get yourself a brand new dictionary.
By the way, since you are learning something new,"guess what!"
DAKARAI is an AFRICAN name you silly numb nut.
The next time that you slam, try keeping your thoughts in order.
Trade a pack of cigarettes in for a new voice recorder.
You keep coming across looking like a cliche hoarder,
As you ridiculously cross the lines of every border.
Now, go grow a pair and have the guts to step up your game.
Your rhymes are lame, because your insults sound the same.
How could you ever "'tear'-(me)-out-the-frame" when you can't see the picture.
I am an earthquake, and you can't even shake the scale on the rector.
You will forever be ignored, no matter how tall you stand,
So you might as well not even bother with raising your hand!
Categories:
rector, slamtime, me, time,
Form:
Thomas Higgins was busy doctor
And spent his evenings with the rector
Who managed a nearby seminary;
He was a man loveably down-to-earth and ordinary.
He spent the hours between four and six
In the nearby arboretum studying twings
And the little monkeys that graced the trees,
He had a bottle with stuff that looked like juice
From which he drank from time to time,
And I fancied some day I would write him some rhyme.
He did hasty press-ups and liked to jog
And beside him sat Casey his faithful dog;
He followed his master wherever he went
And wagged his tail whenever his master bent.
Thomas and Higgins were such faithful friends
And such were their daily trends;
Whenever they walked back home
Casey would lead the way as was his accustomed norm.
Categories:
rector, childhood
Form:
Rhyme
You are still in my heart
to forget many times I tried
In front of my heart mirror many came and gone
but still your image floats in my mind
My soft heart was drunk with your sight of nectar
now I feel that I was not matured so felt me as your rector
though was it dream still my heart remember
what you were till reflects the same for me
For contest: Sponsored by: Michael J. Falotico
Categories:
rector, introspection, lost love, love,
Form:
Sonnet
You know your fat
When
Candy is on the top of your food pyramid
Your spouse hits the ceiling when you lie down to bed
The love seat becomes your chair
All you can eat buffet becomes a dare
Five XXXXX does not fit
You take a whole row on a jet
You go outside and block the sun
Walking the rector scale begins to run
You have an intervention at the drive through
Looking down you can't see your shoes
Stepping on the scale a white flag appears
Your third chin hides your full beard
A candy bar is your tooth pick
Snacking before third breakfast does the trick
You know your fat
When
Omar the tent maker richly retires
You realize this body is not what you desire
You can get in shape
Do it for you and lose that weight
Categories:
rector, funny, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
Hold the mirror to your face your the broken enemy precious is your inhabition a pathway to
your sanity delusions lead to hollow confusion a metamorphsis borderline dilemma, whats
the pleasure in a lesser evil is the comfort addictive at the seat of kings in your wildest
dreams let the lies pull you under let the wayward intentions leave you blinded it's infinite
that you carry this heavy burden as a prelude to your infamy. The rhythm of your beating
heart is soothing inspired yet still withering I've lead you into deception to the doorsteps of
the jackel himself, say your simple hymn and sacrifice your boundaries: "In muto of rebirh
ego tribuo ut thee cruentus manuum in edens nemus uindico thee quod rector thee inregnum
of lux in eve illae alveus nox noctis amen".
Categories:
rector, mystery
Form:
Imagism
TENDER LOVE AND CARE
Take a look around,
what do you see?
I see homeless,
hungry, it could be you or me.
Strange times,
in the places that we live,
So many out of work,
we have nothing to give.
I see scared people,
funny look to their eyes,
Lost souls,
desperation in their cries.
Most have families,
they sleep in their car,
Every night,
the kids wish upon a star.
I hear people say,
it’s their own fault, their lowlifes,
These are families,
moms, dads, kids and wives.
The cost of living,
is off the Rector-scale,
It's like paving
the highway to hell.
The Government is of no help,
they put us here,
They say their transparent,
yet the facts are unclear.
So many struggling,
with alcohol and drug addiction,
So many of us,
just do not pay attention.
Ignoring it,
does not mean it’s not there,
Even the blind,
can see its everywhere.
Desperate people,
can do desperate things,
You know what they say,
it isn’t over till the fat lady sings.
The law,
and all the racial tension,
Negative energy,
it’s the bone of contention.
It won't work itself out,
in need of repair,
All it takes is a little,
tender, love and care…
Turbo1904
Categories:
rector, addiction, life,
Form:
Rhyme
An English village lay at peace
Until that catastrophic day
When flea-infested rolls of fleece
Brought pestilence and death their way.
They heard the village rector say
'No remedy can bring release
In quarantine we all must stay
So that the spread of plague might cease.'
09.02.20
NOTE:
On 1 November 1666 farm worker Abraham Morten gasped his final breath - the last of 260 people to die from bubonic plague in the remote Derbyshire village of Eyam. Their fate had been sealed four months earlier when, after the onset of the plague from flea-infested cloth from London, the entire village made the remarkable decision to quarantine itself in an heroic attempt to halt the spread of the Great Plague.
Categories:
rector, courage, death,
Form:
Lay