Best Worshippers Poems
Humanity
The pagan pilgrimage, sun-worshippers frequently make
Latter-day phenomenon, take off on a Bronze Age break
Constellations change position, solstices realign
Tropic of Capricorn peaks, Cancer starts its slow decline
Astrologers reassure us, the end is not bespoke
Astronomers can’t sleep, has a supernova awoke?
Healthy cells deconstruct inexorably from their core
Runaway chain reactions, laying waste forever more
Be that as it must, cosmic cataclysms generate thrust
Comets are slightly nudged, on a collision course with us?
Ancients believed them omens, wraiths of impending slaughter
Those billion ton tailed curveballs, catalysed Earth with water
Modern man searches for answers, drowning in misnomers
Melding PhD honours, with chatbot E-diplomas
Teleporting entangled particles, throws back a hack
Time travelling marvel, rewinds the real Bronze Age back?
Absurdness seems lame, yet concomitantly germane
Hawking conserved energy, by merely using his brain
Newton had a bachelors, kept him celibate stable
He’d balls of steel for sure, alas no bearings on that cradle?
Information cannot be destroyed, only zeitgeists can
Synthesised is truth, in the malleable hands of man
Life’s more delicate, gravitas hidden behind a smile
Like tales that flightless birds, buried heads in denial
Ostriches evolved kick-ass legs, and win the biped race
They dig shallow pits in sand, not complex black holes in space
One squawked this revelation before zooming off to die:
“Humankind’s the sole species, with good reason to ask why”?
It was on a cold night in Bethlehem that hope was born
A babe lay in a manger as angels sang joyfully
Above the nativity a star shone casting bright light
Guiding the paths of three wise men to welcome our Savior
As shepherds flocked toward the illuminated holy site
The warmth from within still touches the hearts of all mankind
In remembrance we pray for harmony among mankind
As we celebrate the first Christmas, optimism born
In the Mideast soldiers bow down, recalling this wondrous site
For just one night thoughts of war fade, hearts are filled joyfully
They lay down weapons, focusing on the birth of our Savior
As they huddle together, sharing good will by camp light
In many parts of the world, homes illuminated by light
Peace touches the hearts of those who seek blessings for mankind
Church bells ring, signaling the arrival of our Savior
Souls are touched as the restoration of joy is now born
Worshippers proceed to mass, sharing greetings joyfully
If only each day could be filled with such a loving site
How welcome to see the sun rise each day on such a site
Hearts abounding with humanity from our inner light
With angels in each of us sharing good will joyfully
If I live to see such days, I’ll have new hope for mankind
Trust and faith would emanate, celebrating a Child born
A Child, a Leader Who would give His life as a Savior
Cast aside the trappings, focus only on our Savior
Keep in mind this first Christmas, a blessed and holy site
How wonderful it would be to see new harmony born
Differences seem petty as we revel in God’s light
Join me in expectations for the future of mankind
Like the seraphs let us sing out in hymns so joyfully
Make our future one that finds families praying joyfully
No greater inspiration than the birth of our Savior
From a Blessed Mother’s womb sprang a babe to save mankind
Let us be wise men, finding cause to worship at this site
War and hatred cannot exist within God’s holy light
Acceptance of each man’s worth can in joyful hearts be born
Raise your hearts, revel joyfully in our Savior’s glory
In cheer mankind recalls the site of a manger at night
Where neath a star’s light was born a King, the Son of our Lord
* Sestina written for the "Joy to the World" contest.
My verse has been chosen as Poem of the Month at Sherborne Abbey!
The curious offerings of sacristans
Are given in obscure humility
The symbol of the cupping of the hands
Enshrines the essence of this mystery
The dawn unlocked; the turning of a key
The mystic world behind the little door
The mourning weepers, watching, silently
The quiet foot upon uneven floor
The layered shadowed centuries; the pass
Of long dead worshippers before the throne
Slow shifts of coloured pools of stains of glass
Soft drift of latticed light on pillar stone
The empty candle, thirsting for new oil
Unscrewed and filled, screwed up again and lit
The hidden corners, carved by masons’ toil
In which a wary flickered flame may flit
The covering, uncovering; each fold
Of linen and of altar cloth an art
Within the starch of white, on marble cold
The space to hold His living, beating heart
Here, understated wafers wait in line
For blessing, as an unblessed congregation
Here silver, water, light, and red wine shine
Anticipating sacred consecration
Here eye, and hand, and mind, seek symmetry
In objects placed, in psychic ebbs and flows
Seek that perfection only God can see
In right angle and scented mystic rose
When all are done and gone, her hands will shake
The fragments of His flesh on holy ground
Shed drops upon the earth its thirst to slake
Pour water through the light without a sound
When all are gone, all blessed with wine and bread
There, in the East, where better men have trod
She kneels and presses to the step her head
And, lost in awe, she speaks these words to God
I am that ancient soul you always knew
A part of you, from when time first began
The I am that I am, the that in you
That serves thee, as I will, while still I can
I come to you as Christian, Muslim, Jew
Agnostic, Gnostic, Druid, Angel, Man
The cupping of my hands I give to you
The curious offering of a sacristan
© Gail Foster 2016
"My Kingdom will rise above all others. I'll always put it first."
He spoke with the devil perched upon his left shoulder,
but no angel sat on the right of this diabolical sinner.
The king pointed his scepter; his lemmings did his bidding.
Dethroned, he claimed foul to the point of 'ad nauseum.'
A whining child, toy taken away; unworthy of the crown.
Like Humpty Dumpty, he fell from his wall, his ego shattered.
Making up alibis while his lemmings battered and defiled.
"I'm innocent," he scowled, to his fealty of blind worshippers.
Promising, he'd be a phoenix, returning to reclaim the throne.
"Nay," vowed the judicial Knights of the District's Realm.
Unfit, the usurper who tried to topple their country's domain.
The Verbal War was fought. For months on end, battles raged.
It was the age of absurdity, neither faction would retreat,
and in the end, no one won, but the homeland was the loser.
The abuser, bent on vengeance, stalks those he condemns.
Millions cried, "Clip the wings of the phoenix! He's no leader.
His lies have breached beyond belief, and caused much grief!"
In southern lands he now resides, licking his festering wounds
while declaring, "It's just the beginning." and so the villain looms.
February 14, 2021
Biting Satire Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
The world use to taste like oyster's, and my hunger reflect the possible.
"Why I cann't see my shadow, cause my destiny goes forward, into the
Impossible".
Been out and about for too long, all within me are sad songs.
I can not see my shadow, trying not to look back leave's me
constanily along.
"Along to face the battle's, the battle's of, Why I cann't see my shadow's".
Its Been a long journey, this road that leads to homeliness and despair. A
road without future endeaver, a road I wouldn't reccomment to noone, a
road with danger, a road were noone care's.
Drug's are not for everyone, either is hardluck. I wonder if tomorrow will
there be provision for all to make a "buck". ($$)
'Yes-yess..(yess).... I been so-down lately, No my spirit is of the sanity of being poor.
"Why I cann't see my shadow, cann't explain it, even if answer's of
crying to feel the world, is in response once more. Been so-down lately, Why
want oppourtunity come knocking at my back-door.
Not the front, no dare not make others think, favors is clearily my best friend.
When I am ashame to face the world today, my shadow will not follow me,
when I am weak, and excuse's are to no end, then I do see a shadow, but
it is the shadow of someone who once was a "friend".
The world use to taste like marshmellow's, and I didn't have to beg.
The job market was plentiful and so was happiness and worshippers to no bitter
end. "Why cann't I see my shadow", there is joy at the end of the rainbow.
"Why I cann't see my shadow", are the pain in my life so severe.
One day I know I will get back up, One Day (when) it happen, maybe I will be
there to see if my shadow is able to show my tear(s)...
I was not born here but I’ll probably see out my years here.
Circumstances brought me here twenty or so years ago and I’m still here
It’s a river town, a fisherman’s town and a day tripper’s town.
It is still an important grower’s town, a garden of England town.
The ruins of the abbey are still visible, a reminder that religious hatred is not something new.
The ghosts of battle are still around; Simon De Montfort lost the battle of Evesham in August 1265, but won, because democracy thrives.
In the town there is a great choice of restaurants, Thai, English, Polish, Indian, and Italian a something for everyone’s taste town.
The many public houses in the town have the olde- worlde look with black and white Tudor architecture which gives it a historical look with great tasting ales.
Fetes and festivals throughout the year make it a something always going on town.
In the spring the apple blossom blooms and is beautiful to see and the many orchards surrounding the town attract visitors and cyclists to witness the beauty of it.
There are many churches here where worshippers can pray without fear of persecution or hatred from others, a peaceful town.
The many nationalities that live here, Italians, Polish, Indians Irish, English, and West Indians give it an international feel town.
Evesham is surrounded by typically English villages built of Cotswold stone and some with traditional thatched roofs, they look like a scene from from a Christmas card and when it snows they do.
The silvery waters of the Avon have parted the town but two bridges join it, one town, Evesham my town.
Written 7th August 2018.
In the church at Semilong
no more was heard the priest we had.
He had departed long ago
to a place some way from here.
His voice had timbre like a drum
and echoed, certainly,
and when he read hymn numbers out,
they had air of mystery.
"Two six four seven", he would sound,
and the "en" echoed all around.
The organ started its deep chords
and thrilled me with expectancy.
In the church at Semilong
no more is heard a priest's deep voice...
The worshippers were few who came.
To close church soon was soon the choice.
So now the church is dimly seen,
and echoes fruitlessly are sought.
In Semilong are other themes,
and hidden echoes never caught.
-----------------------------------------------
12/10/2015
Contest - Where Echoes Hide
Sponsor - John Lawless
1st place win
In Sumer land, you first appeared.
A potent god, both loved and feared.
Queen of Heaven, joined to its lights.
Moon your father, Sun your brother.
Venus was your symbolic star.
You were too, a goddess of war.
Fierce, fiery, passionate, and proud,
violent storms raged in your breast.
Goddess of sexuality,
and patron of the prostitutes
Your worship involved sexual acts,
Your temple housed your prostitutes.
Enchantress you, and sorceress,
goddess of magic and of spells.
You spur desire and alter forms,
despising all societal norms.
You changed your face to suit your space,
And you are known by many names.
Ashtoreth, Astarte, Inanna,
Aphrodite, Venus are you.
You are a female and a male,
with power to transform and mar.
You turn a woman into a man
and a man into a woman.
You ruled the cultures of the past,
and held sway over regions vast.
But when the Christian message came,
men’s hearts were changed, and you lost fame.
Your temples famed relics became,
as worshippers no longer came.
Your cult faded as all cults do,
when men discover what is true.
You lost your lure for centuries,
while men to God their knees did bend.
But as their faith began to wane,
your fame you did, slowly regain.
You spurred a revolt on sex norms,
then inverted natural sex forms.
You blurred lines between the sexes,
breeding in minds that which perplexes.
Today you wage a full-scale war,
designed to destroy and to mar.
You plan to squash man’s soulish bent
and from him every virtue rent.
Wake up my fellow human beings.
Consider what these grim lines mean.
Ishtar wants to destroy your soul,
But God desires to make you whole.
Revelations ch eleven verse eighteen.' (When I was a child
I acted like a child and thought as a child..? Yet now i am
Grown i must put away the things of childhood ' this last
Parable talks about me as a person..For I did once think
That the ' climate change ideaology' had merit.' And God
Was part of the enviroment..Yet the Truth is God is God is
Above all things.. And the destroyers.' Are in fact the eco
Zealots pagan earth worshippers..The wisdom of worldly
Counsel is evaporating before the eyes of any whose eyes
Are open.'
We are not objective when it serves us.
Weighing scripture carefully, thoughtfully.
Yes, it hurts,
it stabs with two-jagged sides.
But, what is its worth?
It gets all of us
blasphemers, idol worshippers, adulterers,
thieves, liars, coveters, pleasure-seekers
and the lot.
It hurts…it hurts.
It helps,
it moves us
away from danger
He saves us,
heals us through purification of truth.
We don’t want the angels circling,
saying,
“Woe, woe to the inhabitants of the earth…”
Instead, I’d rather be invited
into His kingdom,
oh how precious those jewels, those riches
that we gave up
in order to have it all.
Guess what? You can have it all!
Not the sad imitation, impression, bare bones,
but the great euphoria of the highest heaven.
We’ll bow.
We will all bow.
Some will bow in great delight.
The rest, in great remorse.
The test is now.
It is not a trick.
Right now, God is an open book.
Take a look, long as if thirsty,
unregrettably searching
for that
which you would sell all for.
Don’t sell your soul to whoever you think your god is.
Instead submit to the One who made you
and longs to give you true and abiding everlasting love.
Drink!
sometimes I smile wondering how we were all moulded
With beings calling themselves true worshippers of God
With this gospel of Christ that was spread by apostles
People led by the Holy Spirit and never loved the world
Thinking deep about this gospel that leads me book of
Psalms 1:2 where God meditates in His own word
Day and night knowing that the word is Him
Leaving me wondering why He created me
Giving me a clear reason that am Bound to worship Him
Many Christians are lost yet they represent spiritual kingdom
Logging ourselves in every Sunday mornings has been a habit
Criticizing the sacrifices made by true believers
Forgetting that they stand by revelation 12:11
Where they conquered the devil by the blood of the lamb
Christians are charged with hearts of jealousy and ill mannered
Forgetting the first love of Christ Jesus in the beginning
Making loudest noise and giving largest parts of their wealth
To cover the true selves of the demon that built an altar in their heart
Not forgetting Matthew 23:4 where they tie heavy cumbersome loads and let other Christians carry for them
Like Pharisees as Isaiah prophesied and said
They honour God with their lips but their hearts far from God
Where they speak of love and are in light skipping 1 john 2:9
Whoever says is in the light and hates his brother is still in darkness
Smiling and nodding for Titus 1:16 where they profess to know God
But they deny Him by their works like the glaze covering an earthen vessel are fervent lips with with an evil heart in proverbs 26:23-26
Feeling the agony of the Holy spirit of how His church
Has turned to be a den of robbers by also
Rejecting the true way of Christ and avoiding paths of righteousness
Only to remember God in times of high tides and hurricanes
The house of God has been clothed with punctures of
Hypocrisy, greed, first class honours and taking advantage of weak souls
For the day of the Lord is coming running to revelation 22:12
Where He will pay according to our deeds
Where will you be standing in the day of judgment
And what will you represent that day
When all doors of help will be locked .
The lone coconut tree that dared
to lean towards the sea,
gave shade to her friends while
playing on the beach.
Running half-naked so natural
to those blossoming teens,
mother's lagoon fishing straddling
the sea so blue and pristine.
Water glistening on her bare breasts
with ti-leaves as a skirt,
father hunting in the bush,
tanned and muscular without a shirt.
Other than a t-string,
he was completely nude
culturally, he was fully dressed
in a traditional tattoo.
Then the missionaries came!
Pagan worshippers too many
idols, so they said
And their One true God
Did not condone her ways.
Erotic moonlight dancing,
the young's cultural right but
like nakedness, was labeled
the devil's own delight.
They cut her hair and
she woke up wearier,
found everything foreign
was then superior.
The young's wild spirits,
broken like tamed fillies
brown skin covered
from head to their Achilles.
Mother's long tresses
made to hide in a bun
head to toe dressed in cotton,
in the heat of the sun.
Father's tattoo was a mark
of the devil's blood rites.
Respect meant wearing suits
with matching ties.
Many years later traditional dress
covered all except the face.
Confused why bare flesh in a hot place
could be such a disgrace.
Then came the tourists,
lovers and sun-seekers to paradise.
Beaches were the destination;
brown,tanned skin the ultimate prize.
New trendsetters, a see-thru blouse,
a bikini top and mini skirts.
Worst of all were the logos
"God is Dead" on their t-shirts.
They swam in near nudity
and lovers embraced on the shore.
Oblivious to bold writings in brochures,
of things banned in Samoa:
"Please respect our Culture;
Sunday only for God to be adored,
No Flesh Exposures and do your Kissing Indoors."
The world has gone crazy
Countries are at war
Our lives are now uncertain
We are cautious, afraid
Shocked to the core
When will it end?
Innocents dying so needlessly
Families torn apart
Bombs kill everyone concerned
Is there any point pleading
Those select few extremists
Choose to reign terror
Create misery in the world
For the sake of a God they worship
Will they ever see their error?
An embarrassment to their fellow worshippers
Producing racism through fear
They plot their next attack
With no thought for others or themselves
Possessing the belief they will be revered
Violence is never the answer
But to be honest I don’t know what is
No more bloodshed and sorrow
No more grief and mourning
To live in peace would be bliss
We bleed the same blood
Internal organs the same inside
We all have feelings and emotions
Humans, one race not separated
No more fighting will we abide
We stand strong against our threats
Stand side by side, black and white
Pray together whatever your religion
Join in mass unison
One day, we hope, the world will unite
(Dedicated to Folake)
Your eyes, woman
are like twilight rainbow
amorously bearing aloft passions of mine
toward androcytic ecstacy.
They tell of endless lights.
Night skies clarion the warmth of you
keep me balled-up till
i am tilted to your adorned essence.
May I call up words to adore you,
agglomerate them into a panoply of worshippers
unsandalled before you
like Moses at the burning bush.
And now you seem to fall asleep
but you tell me it's the heavy night
bidding toward a sunny dawn
wherein our love is lighted.
Slowly I let you fall asleep
impatient with the long night
waiting to gaze once more
into the eyes of my lovely love.
Then a lip is placed on yours
and you rouse up wide-eyed
smiling at my romantic move.
We enjoyed the night, cruising on.
Welp, it's all over, all gone, and now I'm left to sell.
Guess it won't be long until I finally go to Hell...
One more minute to recite on all of my sins,
Including not visiting my Gramps' funeral, and everything ever since.
How long has it been, guys? Sixteen years?
A bit too early for my taste. Oh well, I bequeath all of unused time to my peers.
I guess I'll see them not long after, for all people will join me soon.
However, as of right now, for humanity, it's still high noon...
Some of them don't deserve finding me in this place,
So sinister, dark, evil and devoid of grace.
Those people will probably go beyond: either ahead or above,
To the place of worshippers of feelings like Happiness, Friendship and Love.
Maybe someday, I'll be able to go to that place too...
I wonder though, for that to happen, what do I have to do?
Probably give everything to ones who don't give anyone a thing,
The people who serve as messengers of the Hell's Bells' ring.