Choristers Poems | Examples

Raindrops on Roses

in the square, light encircled
choristers of yule
who incanted charmingly
as the dew sank cool
on their rouge berets,
cardinal cloaks with green socks—
a cordant bouquet

Onyx Clouds and Opal Dreams

Written: January 30, 2025

                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beneath February breath, 
a fugue of magic hues—
embers of crimson, 
coppered caramel trill
as maples sway
in Mistral melodic mirth.

Amidst the rhapsody, 
in strokes of whispered shimmer
a rainbow flares.  
In a seamless symphony, 
a fresco of shades
unfurls in the sky.  

Amid the onyx, 
woven in clouds gossamer, 
winter moon glows in a frosty sheen.  
In luminous rhapsodies, 
she hums opal notes
of wistful longings to the sea’s restless soul.  

Drenched in ethereal blushes,  
the sea becomes a shimmering midnight hymn—
choristers of spectral silver.   
O'er the skyline’s silken scarlet,  
March dusk in tourmaline blush,  twilight lyrics 
of a sundown serenade.  

Amidst the concerto,  
swirling crimson,  a swoop of swallows 
in shimmering shadows.   
They dart off into the tinted eventide,  
their wing beats,  an echo of lingering silence.

Mission Accomplished

A vicar whose sermons were boring
Caught one of his choristers snoring
The lesson was taught
He cut sermons short
And numbers in church are now soaring!

12.01.23

An Evening To Remember

When All Hallows' Eve's curse, cast its spell, on that night,
    As the choristers sung, all in tune, church bells rung,
    And the bats, in the belfry now spooked, took to flight,
    While the witches and wizards were chanting in tongue.

    Soon the churchyard was filled, by the ghosts of the dead,
    When those living caught sight, all their hairs stood on end.
    While the cries, of the banshee that filled hearts with dread,
    Made them pray, not for me, would those wails, all portend.

    Soon the quick and the dead, were all covered in dust,
    From those dried out old bones, once deceased, now alive.
    When the chains, of those sinners broke free,from their rust,
    All those innocents cried, as they fought to survive.

    On the last stroke of midnight when witchcraft decayed.
    The devout, sought salvation next day when they prayed.
                                                                      
    


    10 / 27 / 2022.
    Sponsor Craig Cornish.
    For the contest All Hallows' Evening

Church Setting

The gospels heard ayond,  
melodious song strain,
atmosphere echoed, 
Choristers praises,
Congregation dance 
Almighty glorified!!..

Tithes to offering, thanksgiving to testimony, 
Pastor sermon, congregation hush!..

Hell realm whispers, 
Worshippers terrified, 
Voiceless voices heard, 
Phony worshippers full, 
Genuine worshippers few, 
Plenteous vineyard, workers few, 

Dark mind darken, 
Men's devilish thought, 
Wicked depth,  angelic surface 

Church setting....
Smilling face smile not, 
Congratulations with envy
melodious voices in the auditorium,
Devils triumph,
Fierce conflict within the soul,  
impulse warfare against Christ..
Darken mind angelic face

Cathedral Church of Gloucester

She is a beauty with her vaulted ceilings and cloisters.
Has been parading about for over a thousand years 
Showing off her English gothic architecture. 
Cathedral Church of St. Peter and the Holy and Invisible Trinity.

We have seen her in films and movies – The Hollow Crown,
Doctor Who, Sherlock, and Harry Potter. 
She houses at Gloucester, Gloucestershire, UK.
She was once a pilgrimage for Christian seekers. 

King Henry the Eighth established her current choir in 1539.
Today her choir boasts thirty-eight choristers and twelve adult singers.
So when you walk through, you are a historian, so much has gone on.
She is magnificent with her beautiful stained glass windows.

Her organ was constructed in sixteen hundred and sixty-six.
She has been the site of graduations, coronations, and weddings.
In medieval times she held daily worship sung by monks of the abbey.
Gloucester Cathedral, a gorgeous example of what architects can do.

Advent Song

Fresh flakes come pirouetting down
To softly lie below
And cloak the peaceful churchyard in
A crystal bed of snow.

Young choristers in unison
Raise voices to proclaim
The dawning of redeeming grace
And glory of His name.

And once again this Christmas time
The Saviour’s love imparts 
An everlasting gift of peace
To humble, contrite hearts.


01.12.19

F T I SPECIAL for advent : Brian Strand

Subjects

From my bathroom throne
		I overlook heads of trees
		men for all seasons
		who sway and still
		like felt and feathered burghers
		dependent on his lordship’s
		words.

		In glowering times
		they cloak themselves in mist,
		hiding like fleshless nerves
		from courts and kings
		and the kings’ best choristers
		the birds.

Caterwauling

“What a caterwauling do you keep here !”
Sir Andrew and Sir Toby – too much beer !

Listen.  Is that a cat–er-wauling,
A piercing feline screech, a bawling ?
All our neighbourhood cats are calling !

Loud yowling in the pale moonlight,
Enough to give a banshee fright !
Why's “choir practice” late at night ?

Approach the window.  Looking out
I see no sign of cats about.
Was it a dream ?  Begin to doubt.

Our choristers have ceased their din
And now our moggy's come back in –
Was that you wailing, where've you been ?

A Winter Tale

A Winter tale.
 oh  Winter – how you often linger long,
what windswept elements you deal;
your cold dark chamber does my spirit feel.
your shivering grip of uncheerfull thoughts is strong.
and often in your shadows I belong -
a land of phantoms that appears often real.
But now a warm and gentle wind I feel,
and hear the choristers of the morning song,
foretelling Spring's arrival; I was wrong,
the morning of the year with beauty gleams,
and nature with a thousand words in seems.
Untruthful is the winter of the mind -
not like half remembered dreams I can find,
A verdant field I wander – quiet, still.
I keep the winter memory near
and sing in darkness - none will hear
A sweet sweet winters tale a girl leave.
and in this cold she no more breathe
till long life over I too depart,
to infinite nights a new start.

Mocking the Birds

The mockingbird sings,
Emulating rings,
Confusing all nearby birds.
He keeps me awake;
Won’t step on the brake.
So glad he cannot speak words.

For what I utter
Might cause a flutter
Among other choristers.
“Please choose one,” I smile,
“And do not compile
The sweet tunes of your sisters”


*Written July 27, 2014 for Dr. Ram's "Alouetee" contest

The Vanishing God

Go home, old man, turn to your bed
and draw the covers to your eyes;
there is no papa in the skies
to hear your prayers,
were you to dare to frame them.

No spirit hovering?...to flood your mind
with golden streets?   No harps
employed by pretty messengers
with sunbeam hair?...no enemies
to tread beneath your feet?

Go home.  
Our censers do not swing for you;
our choristers sing out of tune,
our crowns, bereft of stars,
are tawdry bibelot
to weigh you down.  Ironically,
your heaven just passed you by
and left your saving Lord to die
alone.

All you have left is the unknown,
a bit of awe, perhaps,
a sense of mystery
and cries to an eternity of silence
unaware that you are even there.

Your peace, your rest
is not in sacrifice or penitence
but listening, never mindful
of reply.

Old fellow, what have you to say?
"My children, how I wish 
that you might understand
that I am merely blessed--
despite my failure to express
the swirl of the ineffable
around my head...confounded
only by an adversary,
too hard pressed 
to speak of anything
but love."
         ~

Love Is Life

Love is life's most beautiful book
with charming and cheerful chapters;
the great God is it's alluring author,
we are the colourful characters  

Love is life's sweetest song, 
lavished with luxurious and lively lyrics,
the glorious God is it's creative composer
and we are the clever choristers.

Love is life's most blessed brigde,
this golden God is it's awesome architect,
we are the pedestrians... pure and perfect;
it links the lonely and lively...in light.

Love is beyond body, blood and bones,
it surpases the soil, skies and seas,
far above, forces, fragrance and fire,
more alluring than the aura that awash the 
atmosphere

Christmas

Colorful season for the saints; a simple sign for sinners;
Happy hearts hover; love and light unites the universe.
Righteousness received in a wicked world by winners;
Indemnity to the indebted, laugh alive oh longing losers,
Seeking the Savior still, following the faith of our fathers.
Terrific throng and tone, bells and balloons across borders,
Merry making, gift and gowns glow… no proud nor paupers;
Alluring alarms by kids and kings; choruses by choristers,
Men and women in joy and jubilations, caressing Christmas…

Darling Deities

Anointed angels are alluring ambassadors
They are the saintly, soaring spirits, we all adore
Sent from heaven… the hills so high and holy
God seldom send them to tell us a surprising story

They are blessed beings with wide, wholesome wings
Angels are choice choristers, with solemn songs to sing
They never sleep nor slumber… always on duty every day
They are ever with us to hear our cry and croons as we pray

My Guardian Angel watches over me, every day and night
And the Archangels take over… engaging my foes in a fight
My comforting angels save me from sins, stains and sorrows
And in times of rejoicing they rally around me like rainbows

Angels are among men, performing pleasant and divine duties
They may be seen or unseen yet; they are our soul’s darling deities

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