In the abbey lived Friar McFunk,
Who pounded piano while drunk,
But to pay for his rye,
Was caught robbing the tythe,
Now they call him Felonious Monk.
Hallowed earthly spot
Friar's most sacred domain
Soulful presence felt
Impossible to ignore
Spiritual implication
Seeps into every fiber
Ancient Friary
One continuous prayer
Petitions in wind
Like whisper on subtle breeze
Rustling over silent grave
Empathic comprehension.
Image by Falco Pixabay
There once was a friar respectable
All thought of him purely impeccable
He took grape from the vine
then fermented strong wine
And now he is more than deprecable
The friar’s light, a deceiving light,
my nightmares deluding my mind
crossing the misty moors at night.
The friar’s light, a deceiving light.
Howling hounds affright – bite! They bite!
My eyes wide open but I’m blind!
The friar’s light, a deceiving light,
my nightmares deluding my mind.
Avoirdupois
The endomorph enjoys our affection
as the comic figure of tradition.
Friar Tuck, Falstaff, and Old Toby
recall rotund revels and ribaldry.
Devils are always portrayed as thin.
the clown invariably has a double chin.
Unlike the hero, who's always victorious,
his wind and walk are somewhat laborious.
Though he's never very heroic,
who honestly ever loved a stoic?
Confronted by his conviviality
cynics think rather jealously:
'It's just that unlike the lean
he's much too slow to be mean.'
In a prison cell I dwell most every day
And for a miracle I pray:
Gods of time, Lords of reason
Defy yourselves and commit treason
My years are many
The baggage of my past is heavy
Disregard what`s in me evil, don’t deny me merit,
Else heaven I am sure not to inherit
The dam of my moral will is bursting
The waters of my passion are churning
I am the victim and I am the criminal
I am the prison and I am the prisoner
I am the master and I am the slave
I am innocent but I am to blame
For this flame that set my house on fire
Awakening a dreadful desire – a slumbering beast
Starving, craving for flesh - a presumptuous predator,
A heat seeking animal, locked on body temperature
Behold the moth, plunging into suicidal fire
My true will and nature it`ll transpire
The friar
Revered innocence
You’ve got to try it
put it on your lap
a smiling little thing
still sheer and brittle
if possible blind or deaf,
almost genderless.
It just sits there
an unweaned lamb.
Take the little head
gentle it downwards
to the issue of our charity
Lead it, shovel if necessary.
Don’t be scared!
Today it’s allowed
your parents too far:
the force of every belief
too big to grasp.
Sooner or later it pushes
to where we assumed
our hands were in power.
Can’t do right,
I try so hard with might,
The smallest things I mess up or fail.
Why can’t I seem to overcome, learn, succeed and do ?
Is there weakness, a fault , not enabling me through ?
I’m expected to be good and just.
Others so this desire,
Help Friar !
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.