Best Rectory Poems

Quasimodo

Is tha' I gan't ta'k too good
Tha' keep me silent, not my mood

They thin' I brooding monstrosity
All thin' so, except, not she

I feel so shame when she look at me
I wish someway she see only heart of me

It sometime, seem somehow she do
Esmeralda, I play...

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Several years of my childhood I spent with my aunt and uncle
who lived in an old rectory in Northern Norway
It was a hard time, much work, little food never time for play or entertainment
My aunt and uncle were strict, we had to work for food

When...

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He had no garments old or new 
that didn’t have a hole burnt through
from sparks when he lit up his pipe
and nearly set himself alight.
Smoke rituals in his old car
began when we set off not far
to visit Truro’s small town charms
on Wednesdays when from all...

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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....

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...such joyful company. I put my coat on and 
was about to leave while still seeing my nun friend there with me when my pastor handed 
me a book to read. I declined even though I knew by now that if he gave me a...

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Trans PORT Station
a hard look in side at how power is misused no one can glide upon rusty shells they tiptoe on the path well meaning people do wrong to innocents in the name of prevention we nip this sort of thing in the bud...

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calling all mistreated jugglers
and wretches of condemned madhouses
bewitched by fingers of freak fame
the spindly fingers of trickster twins
that open the floodgates to occult caverns
unleashing the brusque wraiths

the brittle symmetry of her glacial eyes
cast down from the empyrean skies 
as a sanctified abyss from ancient past
eyes...

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Crimson robed closed eyes
in the Holy See
	that don’t say

Upper chamber veiled deceit — 
A wizard wand wave
in the Sistine Chapel cache cave

Young boys’ virgin olive oil innocence
sacrificed on the sunken altar
			          of concupiscence

Lust incense burning
the foul...

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The first son inherited by right
The second,off with his king to fight;
Ab third in a rectory might dwell
The youngest was to marr well..
Family coffers...more to swell....

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Fresh from Pentecost, our celebration
moved to lunch in the Rectory garden,
with views to the coast, for inspiration.
Spread on tablecloths we'd hardly begun
the quiche, ham, tomatoes, salad, or pies
when a westerly gust lifted our fare –
cloths and paper plates with lettuce and fries.
We reached out to...

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Some pondered ways
to pep-up the pulpit and pew,
but disinterest and ennui won the day.
The clergy went away to get help
and never came back.

Eventually, thunder and sleet
cracked stone, spire, and gable;
neglect, and the cold winds of time
nibbled at arch and buttress.

Where once was a stained-glass light,
weeds...

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Your voice kisses the breath of the morning wind
Snapping in the solemnity that bears a cry unto God.
Angels have come to earth; that in slumber seemed,
Like the wind creaking among the faith we once had.

Life is our desire, miracles are among the cool shadows,
Lovingly we...

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In a free fall i can feel the sky,
Getting thicker as it rushes by,
Though its easier to take a breath,
I can barely fill the space that's left...
It's so turbulent it rushes in,
And I heard it as it burned my skin,
Just the sound it makes during...

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An ailing confrere moans in his bed,
helpless and willing to be at peace;
ready to go far beyond this world
and be with his Maker – all that he needs.

  He struggles with his failing health,
  unable to speak and share his sentiments;
  his...

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The Christmas tree is lit in the rectory. 
There is a glow of Jesus all over the church
We are dressed in our Christmas finery. 
The little kids are up front, out-singing Mrs. McGill.
I am one of the loudest and proudest 
Knowing the words to Joy...

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