Shep was a slug-a-bug, a sluggard, a sloth
A do-little, do-nothing, man of the cloth
He cancelled more sermons than he ever wrote
This lazy lay-about did not fool this old goat.
He was a goldbricker at my church too said Lou.
Why do you think I recommended him to you?
the sad vicar
The vicar walks in front of the funeral procession
appears a bit wobbly, perhaps due to elderliness
eyes are watery, and the smell of lotion is too strong
He lost faith years ago praying in churches, asking
to be released from his throbbing masculinity
which left him affairs with female parishioners
past their first youth, but with adult feelings about
sexuality hidden in a black dress of widows
God had left him, he blamed himself especially now
that he was no longer young his discreet advances
were no longer useful.
The vicar had lost his faith, he went through rituals
that had no meaning, he was not a man of the cloth
His mother had been deeply religious and wished
her son will join the priesthood which he did partly
because to please her, and the idea of saving the world
from the evil that lurked in the heart of man.
He didn't know at the time, his male sexuality was
his downfall, when he knew, it was too late to do
anything about this problem, that youngish widows
was happy to assist in solving
Someone called his name, deep in thought he had
walked past the interment place, ah, they thought
our old is lost in prayers
Oh, to live the life of a fashion faux pas
Cursed by the anathema of dress codes
Choosing blindly the closest hanger
The shirt on top of the pile
That lonely pair of shoes
Hidden amid
Those “too comfortable” to toss
Ratty sneakers and feral boots
Jeans that had holes
Before it became fashionable
T-shirts that mumble comments
In a far corner a shirt with a collar
A lonely pair of pants with a crease
A tie that has been in and out several times
A quiet sports fan he wears no logos
Although he roots loudly
Alone in a drawer somewhere
Are the many attempts at “conversion”
Sweaters, pullovers, and a few
Extremely “elegant” Christmas monstrosities
He wears jackets older than his children
Believing that fraying is the fashion statement
Of the flannel nation
Everyone knows that if he takes the children out
They are coming back dirty
With a new bruise or band-aid to brag about
His granddaughter once asked:
“Papa, why’d you wear that!”
He replied: “cuz it was on top”
Rare grandness and extravagant appeal,
Chrysiridia Rhipheus ideal,
classified initially as a moth,
butterfly reborn as man of the cloth,
females, too, together metamorphized
Papilionidae catergorized
found on the island east of Africa,
one of the world's largest, Madagascar,
on its wettest, forestry, windward sides,
as they flit the heights where the odd tree hides,
gift with six tails they'll lose in their lifetime,
still with lengthiest wings ease skyward climb,
with their marveled proportions, like those trees
blessed world as Grace spreads nature guarantees.
Basset Hound had a gift to deliver, but he forgot to whom.
He had reminded himself by remembering to say witch’s broom.
Was it Witch Hazel? Asked his mother, trying to help.
He thought it was another, possibly the northern elk.
But why would he give him a gift? They did not get along.
Would it help you to sing a Christmas Gift Song?
This was his father’s idea; he loved braying and singing.
Basset Hound joined in the chorus, his voice ding-a-linging.
You have such a baritone voice! The church vicar said.
Would you like to use it to sing in the choir? I know the head.
Basset Hound decided it was fate to run into a man of the cloth.
He never delivered the package, but this worried him not.
For he was now an official choir member of Church Number Two.
He started being happy and joyful and he stopped being blue.
He now is a fine member of a choir that sings loud and clear.
He can probably deliver this package to someone next year.
Never had I met a man of the cloth more worthy of honor.
When I met him at the age of 19, he was around 35 and pastoring.
Very early on, it was clear that he was a gentleman and an overcomer.
When I met him, I was a freshman in college studying to become a pastor.
From a local church, he later became a bishop, very strong in his teaching.
I was deeply honored to have him marry my bride and me one June summer.
In a very large denomination, he was sought after and quickly began ascending.
072421PSCtest, Julyme, William Kekaula
7 structured lines, Rhyming scheme-abacbab
Shocking and disgusting the old ladies said
Enough to turn the meek a delicate shade of red
What would I wonder a man of the cloth say
Would he tut tut and complain and look away
The old men probably laugh as they walk on by
The young ladies probably embarrassed and shy
Teenagers shrug and really don't really care
Men in their twenties double take and stare
So what you ask is the cause of this commotion
It is certainly not a drug and definitely no potion
I saw them the other day with my own two eyes
Corsets in a shop window is definitely a surprise
A very dear man of the cloth used to sing a song most precious.
The song was entitled, 'Christ Is The Answer", and the line that
most spoke out to me was, 'Life is so uncertain. There are pitfalls
that get in your way'. Pitfalls getting in my way is the story of my life,
but the memory of that little song always reminds and gives me courage.
There is no avoidance of the pitfalls, but we do not have to fall into them.
I tell you, pitfalls are endless, but please allow me to list just a few of them.
Pride is a deadly poison lurking to destroy any who accepts or tolerates it.
Ignorance is often overwhelming, but many times it is a 'selective choice'.
Timidity wraps us up in a cold blanket, rendering love and warmth to none.
Fallacies are like ignorance, but exposure to knowledge and truth is liberating.
Assumptions put barriers, walls, fences, and partitions that create insecurities.
Lies, listed among 'The Ten Commandments' is among the first sins on earth.
Liars are friends to no one, and may they be avoided like a deadly plague.
Situation ethics changes like the wind, and must not be a part of our guide.
012821PS
For a man of the cloth, our dear vicar
is not very partial to clothes
He is almost allergic to trousers
and y-fronts get right up his nose.
Ev’ry Sunday as he climbs in the pulpit
(where the choir boys are sitting below)
His meat and two veg are seen swinging
And it’s proof that he is commando
The ladies who bake and do flowers
don’t know if to scream or to peek
but Olga the Organist’s smiling
and she’s practising eight days a week!
At this year’s summer fete it was breezy
and the wind, I’m afraid, took its toll
His cassock blew up to his waistline
as he served up the last sausage roll
I've heard when he goes on vacation
He suns himself on a nudist beach
and his wife applies his sun lotion
to stop his tush looking like a ripe peach
03/14/20
A cobbler may balance his trade, the mending of soles
With that of a mender of souls, exchanging roles
With a man of the cloth, making two Roman officials
Wroth, in the opening scene of Shakespeare's 'Julius Caesar'
Yet when barefoot you walk, on cobblestone streets
It's quite hard to focus on spiritual needs
So there is, indeed, a connection between a man of the cloth and a cobbler
Perhaps more than between an elected official and a squabbler
I stretch out in a variety of positions
Trying to look my sexiest.
My frothy green leaves
A sensual contrast to
my blazing hot skin
My carotene is rising rapidly
I can feel my cheeks flush
If broccoli does not get here soon.
Was that a footstep?
I gasp. Hold my breath.
Waiting. Onion walks in.
What are YOU doing here? I ask him.
He sees what I am about.
Begins to stammer apologies.
Looking everywhere but at my carrot skin
He is a simple man, pure, chaste, a man of the cloth.
Broccoli asked me to tell you he would be late,
He stammers. I pulled the snap peas around me.
And can barely look at him the next day at church.
Cloth Eaten By Moth
He had been known as a man of the cloth,
And was wet from liquid contained in broth;
After filled,
He had spilled;
Hole was eagerly eaten in cloth by a moth.
Jim Horn
Though I am a critical of others
Pretend I know best
I know my own faults
Are to many to count
I do certainly not know best
To this fact I contest
My life is a suck fest
Brought upon myself
By to many failures
To bore anyone with
But hey
I live to spoil another day
I don't rebuff
I admit
I find solace in it
My perfect day is spent telling myself off
I am not a man of the cloth
Man of good intension, of love, honour,
though defied Roman emperor Claudius,
became a Martyr died without mourner,
yet over centuries became most glorious,
Roman army free of affection or love,
dedicated Fighting men was Claudius's law,
man of the cloth married lovers as he should,
Claudius beheaded him and that's for sure,
from priest to Saint this good man became,
lovers all over the world now celebrate,
fourteenth of February they did proclaim,
due to his death and his undesired fate
this most important day for you and mine,
thanks to wonderful acts of St Valentine.
2/13/2017
Contest sweet Valentine.
McGee and Finn where working again
performing some road repairs
Across from a place of constant disgrace
A den of sorted affairs
Soon comes by, a Jewish Rabbi
And after the coast seemed clear,
slips on in, to the house of sin
And all Finn could do was sneer
"Is nothing holy to a man of the cloth"
Said McGee while raising his spade
I won't be his judge, nor carry a grudge
But I'm sure he'll be measured and weigh
A little while after, there came an old Pastor
who lurked around the front door
Keeping and eye, if someone might spy
Him darting in the first floor
But McGee caught sight of this sinners delight
and looked to the heavens again
And said "These Protestants know nothing of God"
With his hand on his heart, agreed Finn
A short while later, both excavators, notice a Catholic Priest
He was looking around, to see no one was found
And both were surprised, said the least
When the Priest went on in, to that dark house of sin
Then McGee just started to cry,
With his hat in his hand, spoke to Finn once again
Proclaiming
"One of the girls must have died"
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