Hymnals Poems | Examples

At the Risk of Sounding Crazy, There Are Deities at the Roller Rink

They knelt behind a photo booth humming
hymnals to a tooth-
decayed brand of gen X truth—
old gods' wants reclaim the youth.

Marionette

I sit where they sat before me,
knees folded like pressed flowers,
hands stitched together by someone else's
threads.

The air is thick with the ghosts of breath,
the weight of names I do not know, 
the hush of mouths shaping syllables like 
fog on the glass.

I open mine too.
The sound comes but it's not mine.
It floats up to the ceiling 
and gets caught in the rafters like dust.
No one notices.

The wine is warm and bitter,
the bread turns to chalk on my tongue. 
I swallow anyway.

I think I could slip through the cracks in the
floor.
I think I could curl into the lining of the hymnals,
thin and fading at the edges,
wedged between stories I was told to
believe. 

I see my body from above-
white dress, an empty cup, a marionette
waiting for a string 
Someone pulls, and I nod.
Someone pulls, and I kneel.

The bells ring, and I do not move 
The choir swells, but I do not sing.
The doors open, and I do not leave.

Instead, I let go, 
a thread unraveling in the pew,
a name whispered under breath,
a shape dissolving into light.

An Urge

Hallucinogenic hymnals;
I hear you, you mirror angels 
as you sit shadowed by candles;
Lost to scandals, lost to scandals;

An urge to sin makes me whimper;
With a vile of Holy Water 
you touch me with a soft whisper,
‘I will love her, I will love her.’

A Commendation of September Light

Hymnals of light in the autumnal woods
shafts of sunlight
printing prayers on every shadowed trunk.
Only September has this light,
October will come with a witches broom,
a stiff switch to scour and scythe,
that light will be a death song
one sung by ancient and native winds.
For now, maybe just for this day,
the woodland acres glow
they seem to tremble slightly
as a gentile sunlight
ushers in last rites and blessings.

Deep Dish Pizza

**Parody time!  Please open your hymnals to "He Lives" as this what you can sing this parody to the tune too.

I eat a deep dish pizza,
it's in my mouth right now.
I know that it is tasty,
despite the carbs it has;
I see its mound of cheese,
its topped with mushrooms too.
And just because I want it, 
I'll add the ranch.

The fun, the fun,
The pizza is the fun!
I snack on it and munch on it
upon my dinner plate.
The fun, the fun,
The pizza is the fun.
You ask me how I like my pizza?
I like it in my tummy.

With all the food around me
I choose the fresh baked cheese,
And tho my mouth did water
I'll add the pineapple.
I know I need the chicken
and the ranch dressing.
The time of my delivery,
will fill me up.

The fun, the fun,
the pizza is the fun!
I snack on it and much on it,
upon my dinner plate.
The fun, the fun,
The pizza is the fun.
You ask me how I like my pizza?
I like it in my tummy.

Breakfast Breakfast We Will Eat You

** DISCLAIMER: This poem is a parody of a hymn:  "Joyful Joyful We Adore Thee", some of you might have hymnals that call this song "Ode To Joy".  The lyrics in a hymnal are from Henry van Dyke and the melody is from Ludwig van Beethoven!  The parody is all mine!  

Breakfast breakfast we will eat you
Food of morning, break my fast,
bellies are empty and grumpily inside you,
opening energy start the day.
Melt the pain of hunger and tired
drive the dark of night away;
Giver of fulfilling energy,
Fill us with the fuel of day!

All your nutrition my blood to carry
cells and oxygen resound the fill,
Brain and organs work around you
breakfast break the nightly fast.
White cells, red cells hemoglobin,
Energy fields fuel of day
Toast and eggs and maybe coffee
call us to indulge in you!

You are sweet or you are savory,
ever filling, ever full.
Fuel spring of the light of morning,
Energy start, jump the day.
You our energy, you start the day,
all who eat and drink are full;
Give us grace to love each other,
help us shine with grace divine!

Is the Love of Jesus Enough

Confidence parades around in this sanctuary
The Reverend blesses them
Maybe me too
He tries anyway
But can I accept it?
Do I believe it?
My faith is gone.

Am I the only sinner here?
I look around for other sinners.
Not any obvious contenders.
Families touching each other in a lovely way
Opening hymnals, singing with faith.
I put my mask on.
I do not belong.

The sermon is about Jesus accepting everyone.
I think he means Christians
Not sinners like me.
There is an invitation.
Everyone is welcome.
I would have to share my true self.
I would have to let them know what a sinner I am.
They keep inviting and inviting.
I jump out of my seat as if I was shot out of a revolver.

Is the love of Jesus enough?
And who sent me up here?
I stare into the stained glass window.
Jesus is opening a door.
I am entranced.
Terrified, but entranced.
The reverend shakes my hand.
He says some words I do not recognize.
I have no idea how I got here.
Who propelled me out of my seat?
Jesus winks from the glass.

Lay Down Your Arms

Lay Down Your Arms
by Michael R. Burch

Lay down your arms; come, sleep in the sand.
The battle is over and night is at hand.
Our voyage has ended; there's nowhere to go . . .
the earth is a cinder still faintly aglow.

Lay down your pamphlets; let's bicker no more.
Instead, let us rest here on this ravaged shore.
The sea is still boiling; the air is wan, thin . . .
lay down your pamphlets; now no one will “win.”

Lay down your hymnals; abandon all song.
If God was to save us, He waited too long.
A new world emerges, but this world is through . . .
so lay down your hymnals, or write something new.

If I remember things correctly, I wrote this poem in my early twenties, probably as a college sophomore or junior. It was one of my first acceptances by a literary journal, The Romantist. But I never received a copy, so I can’t be sure it was actually published, drat!

I'D Rather Pick Flowers

If I weren't afraid, I'd pluck some dainty flowers
Be unashamed of mostly women at showers,
Stand with you dressed in choir robes and singing hymnals,
Be sweet like a kitty not roar like animals
Hold infant with both hands, and not catch a fly ball,
Be very nice and kind with my mother-in-law,
Chewing gum and smiling, not crunching jawbreakers,
Great in mid-life with no crisis, and no takers.


2019 September 10

Talent Scouts

She never knew she had them
that the basket had been placed
upon her past and future
by the color of her face

He gazed upon the sunrise
at the shadows walking thin
entering the schoolhouse
but they wouldn’t let him in

She had no shoes – no fancy dress
could not read the hymnals prayers
sat outside as music played
a welcome to soothsayers

He wore a ring of ever-dirt
from which he sought release
razor eyes forever searching
bringing hunger to the feast

Their talents were the seeds that fell
upon harsh and bitter ground
gifts that withered on the vine
a talents loss forever bound

contest - The Parable of the Talents
sponsor – Holly Hippocampus

©10/5/2018

Hymns a Pleiades

HYMNS

Hallelujahs aloud
Hail our redeemer King
Honour His Majesty
Hear our heavenly praise-
Holy hymnody so
Heartfelt in musical
Hymnals of true worship

The Photo

Recently at an office
Where they check my ailing heart
While thumbing through a magazine
A photo set apart
The timeless snapshot black and white
I couldn't turn the page
Through watering eyes I looked  back
To those innocent childhood days
It may have been, void of color
But certainly not to me
Trees were green as springtime grass
Skies as blue as seas
Rows and rows of fluff white cotton
With workers in the field
Hand sewn sacks across their backs
Most generally overfilled
What one couldn't see was clear to me
Sensations that I felt
I closed my eyes released my mind
My heart began to melt
Bleeding fingers, unbearable heat
Eye burning salty sweat
Those moans of  hymnals while they worked 
Things one does not forget
Raised in the country in my youth
Those fields were all around
We'd ride our bikes and watch them pick
We loved those soul felt sounds
Easily, that photo 
Could have been, taken by my mother
Come to fetch us home to eat
Me and my big brother


    original poem by Daniel Turner  "poemdog"  2013

Harmonious Relations

Take notice of your hand.
Each finger moves separately.
Each finger is a different size,
Yet all belong to the same hand.
All nationalities may be seen as
Different fingers on the same hand.
Would you cut off a finger if
It looked different, felt different,
Or if it were scarred or ugly, or
Couldn't move as well as the others?
If one finger is broken, the other
Fingers are gathered and may be
Joined together to support the
Broken finger so that it may heal.
I pray that one day I may see all our
Fingers well, working together and able
To move with each other in harmony.



For the Contest "THE GREAT SOUP POETRY RELEASE EXTRAVAGANZA"

Sponsored by: Cyndi MacMillan

On the word: Peace

Tucked my poem inside a few hymnals in a hospital chapel.

Zombie Priest Unknown Color

the priest have all dug their way out, 
to lethargic to suffer another rebirth.

   they need advanced medicine and 
  perhaps a good drycleaner.

   heavy feet stumble and stagger past
 gravestones through the garden 
over the self impoverished tulips.  

 the contrast of gray against 
yellow is striking.  

 nobody had ever seen such a color before.

 inside the old church the congregation turns
 their hymnals to page fifty seven singing alound.

'such a beautifully vibrant death we all live'.

My Sobriety

deep in the sea bleached white
 whale bones sing in thier chains.

 chamber music in the depths

 i heard them in the night
 lowering the stars as they sank
 moving heavily through their watery 
 hymnals.
 i swam in those dark waters and 
 kept on dreaming of their forms
 until blue became black and a
 saline solution filled my lungs

 under a cold sky the icy constellations
 spun round my magnetic head

 i drowned my angel in
 a bottle for need of words.

i drank in silence shades of green and 
brown to swallow aloud all the others

 until blue became white 
and blood became bone 

to numb in my icy marrow like
 jonah,  i prayed to be spat up on dry ground.

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