Congregants Poems | Examples

The Preacher

He preaches with a heavy hand
laid upon the Word of God.
No need to be seated on a throne.
He’s at eye level with his congregants.

if he avoided their gaze, as if
his eyes shielded the sun,
and blathered on, as if nobody cared,
then they could let their eyes roll and yawn.

Firmly, he holds up that Word of old,
for this preacher cares, oh he cares
so deeply for their souls, so deeply
he will divide the wheat from the chaff.

A Butterfly at Church

Early in the morning, he woke up
Up flinging his wings to God’s House 
God’s House perhaps with some reason
Some reason for mingling

Mingling with some congregants 
Congregants singing to praise their God
God did not create butterflies to sing
To sing like human beings

Human beings go to church to socialize
Socialize because they are not butterflies
But butterflies follow the wind all over
All over up until at a church

At church, they see no flowers to suck
No pollen to lick and cannot sing
Cannot sing a song they do not know
Not know but can expose their beautiful bodies

Bodies uncovered with colorful wings
Wings they fling intentionally
Intentionally for exciting humans at church
At church, they are still butterflies
Butterflies who come to irritate God in his House.

Poem by Mugisho N.

As the Flock Goes, So Flows the Priest

  Should priests get married
    It depends what they do

  If they counsel mostly marrieds
    then priests should be too

  While a church of congregants single
     ~ Be wary of priests who intermingle

HAPPY EASTER

Counted among the congregants, the geese
flying by, two by two, at sunrise. Guitar
combines nicely with a heavenly voice.
Behind me the couple makes the Spirit flow.
Their voices, too, intertwined like Ivy.
Blessings and more blessings!

We arrive home to a ruckus in the bush.
A red cardinal has my undivided attention.
Perhaps, Mom is paying a visit.
I like to think so.

Blessings and more blessings!

Tears in sunrise glow. I sang of the Savior.
He washed me white as snow, as they drove
nails through his hands and feet. He healed me.
We sing of an angel on a stone, declaring,
“He is not here! He has risen!”
If you only understood, friend, he made a way
where there was no way, and all through
the Holy Scriptures it prophesied
what Jesus would do. What more…
what more do we need. We need only believe.

Blessings and more blessings!

Bless you, dear ones!

Mocking the Dead

Mocking the dead,

the vampire on the hill, high
above the cityscape. Why
does his cloak wrap around?
It moves with a hissing sound,
blackened on the outside,
blue on the molten graveside.
Sharpening incisors on the crag,

but

the villagers with their worn rags
tight fisted with their goodly lights -
those lanterns, infused with salt
of garlic, compelled forward in the dead
of night. Mockers and murderers, fed
by rage, want to dispel the wine and bread.

Hell,

the strangulation of fire, lava rolling
down the hill. Mocking, laughter -
the shivering of the old church rafters.
The reborn, new creation, settled
on roof-blowing praise. Nettled,
old Nick, the vampire king unsettled.

Mocking the dead,

making his own bed, jutting at jugulars,
darkening the atmosphere, drawing
congregants, unholy. But, someone holy
has his heels on the vampire’s head.
He’s been banished…dead heads’ rolling.
The glorious light of the lamb, consoling.

Retirement Due To Health Issues

The dear old pastor had occupied the same pulpit for years and years;
He preached fire, damnation and The Hereafter scorching his congregants ears!
He had baptized hordes of kids and officiated when they married,
And comforted many mourning souls when their loved-ones were buried!

He suffered through stormy sessions at the monthly meetings of The Board,
And withstood the bickering of sisters of The Women's Guild, utterly bored!
Some of his flock were as stubborn as army mules and were quite contrary!
He faced challenging situations that they didn't teach about in seminary!

He confided with his long-suffering wife proclaiming, "This is the pits!"
And after serving the Lord nigh on thirty years he decided to call it quits.
He advised The Board that he was retiring due to health issues, you see.
(Truth was, he quipped, "I was sick of them and they were sick of me!")

The Congregants Pray

the congregants pray
lids lap over iris tides -
hides laudatory shadows

5/22/2023

Massacre In the Cathedral

That Pentecost Sunday in Owo 
As worshippers assembled

For the rain of Holy Spirit
Men of the underworld 

Wielding the tools of their ungodly trade
Rained satanic bombs and bullets on innocent congregants

And two scores lay dead
While many more injured 

Leaving families devastated
Dreams brutally cut short 

And reign of fear foisted on
The hitherto peaceful community

All in the name of extremism
And misguided religiosity 

What a sacrilege in God’s temple?
What a desecration of His sanctuary? 

What an audacious confrontation with God
In His terrestrial abode?

The wicked will never go unpunished 
Vengeance is of the lord

At His time they will reap
The fruit of their wickedness

Mark Twain's Words I Choose

Sentenced to jail for running a multi-million dollar donation fraud
Rabbi Yisroel Goldstein, feigning piety, abused congregants' trust in God

   I'll rely on Mark Twain, whose wise words I now choose
   As he pithily said, "Never judge Judaism by the Jews."

Universalis Intuitus

Synderesis primal,
as reason surrounds
First principles calling,
eternity bound

The well ever deepening,
more buckets to haul
New congregants pledging
—awaiting the call

(Dreamsleep: December, 2021)

Emma Sees the Light

Emma saw the light on that Sunday bright.
Her hands, they were folded, and knees bent right.
     She smiles at the Pastor’s words.
     The sun through the window stirred.
A slip up of epic proportions - quite!

Up front, in the center of congregants,
a holiness plagues, as the church does chant.
     In sheer white she forgot slip.
     Her blush is the shade of RIP.*
She slinks from her seat, in a hurried slant.

2/27/2021
Two Limericks - Let's have some Fun!
Sponsor Tania Kitchin
HMS 10/10/7/7/10 per verse

*RIP for Rest In Peace.

Christmas 2020

Our choir cantata won't take place this year.
We lack the space to be six feet apart
on stage or in the choir loft, but the fear
of Covid can't crowd Christmas from ONE heart!
All congregants will sing with season’s cheer.*

Though Christmas shopping won't be quite the same,
the mask I wear will not dilute the thrill
of finding gifts and checking off each name.
This list is one I'm eager to fulfill.
A mostly normal Christmas is my aim!

Close family will gather Christmas Day,
with scrumptious food and presents to bestow.
Though distancing, we'll limit Covid's sway.
As always, reminiscences will flow.
Our joy will keep pandemic threats at bay.

No chaos or pandemic can erase
the precious truth that Jesus came to Earth
two thousand years ago. It’s by his grace
one's soul is saved. His unique virgin birth,
proclaimed each Christmas--nothing can efface.


*The sanctuary's many lengthy pews make distancing easy.


Date: November 9, 2020
Contest Title: Quintain--Sicilian
Sponsor: Emile Pinet

December 14, 2020
Entered in the Christmas Poems Old or New Contest       Placed 2nd
Sponsor: Constance LaFrance

The Funeral On Tv

The congregants were distanced,
Wearing masks, as well they should,
While hearing of the man who always
Knew just where he stood.

Three Presidents paid tribute,
Quite an honor to receive
And the Speaker of the House as well,
So many there to grieve.

Though thousands lined the streets and went
To see him lie in state,
To most, the TV coverage
Was what they did await.

John Lewis spent his life in battle,
All for civil rights,
Obama’s speech reminding us
To not give up those fights.

Fume-Ing Mad

There was a commotion in the church pews
Town drunk had opened a bottle of booze
   All the congregants stared
   The town drunk wasn't scared
Belched and said, "Wait 'till I take off my shoes!"

Parson Ezra Heap

Once there was a parson named Ezra Heap

   Whose Sunday sermons were profoundly deep

      The louder Ezra implored

         The more his congregants snored

            He could never arouse them from their sleep

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