Lorie Ann kept dreaming of a little pink church.
The dreams started when she was six.
They continued until she was twelve.
Was the pink church real or imagination?
She mentioned this church to her parents several times.
They had attended lots of different churches.
She had been Baptist, Lutheran, Methodist and Disciples of Christ.
Years later Lorie Ann moved to Minnesota for a job.
She was sad and lonely, she knew no one in this state.
While speaking to her mother, her mother said “join a church.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Shop around. Go visit some.”
On Monday and Tuesday Lorie Ann prayed for guidance.
On Wednesday she drove past the pink church of her dreams.
She got out and walked around it.
A feeling of hope and peace surrounded her.
“Welcome!” the young minister said.
“You are home” an internal voice said, and she was.
Categories:
methodist, dream,
Form: Narrative
Their daughter was a tiny wisp of a thing
And boy, could that charming five-year-old sing!
She out sang everyone in our pew.
Her melodious voice was pure too.
Their daughter was called Queenie.
Her personality was anything but teeny.
Our entire Methodist church rallied around her.
She was so sweet, amazingly godly and pure.
Queenie went to heaven on a summer’s day.
That horrible thing called cancer took her away.
I had a dream and I saw her walking on wings of a dove.
This helped me know she was safe in the arms of God above.
Categories:
methodist, cancer,
Form: Rhyme
It’s only one day a year, Muffins said. We can do this.
Her friend Puddlewiddle gave a snarl and a hiss.
I don’t like wearing Antlers on my soft head!
I would much rather wear ribbons instead.
Come on said Muffins. The old woman is going downhill.
We are both lucky she orders Kibble and feeds us still.
Some of the old ladies in here are more daft than she.
And their volume is sky high on their incessant TV.
Okay said Puddlewiddle if I don’t look silly or stuff.
Miss P. looked goofy, but Miss M. ignored her weird fluff.
Muffins was a peace maker, and happy of course to do it
They both wore their head dresses and sailed right through it.
A meowing duo in the front of the Meow Methodist Church.
Where the old ladies sat while jealous cats perched.
In their finery galore, Christmas colors of red, green and blue.
I feel sad that I missed it. How about you?
Categories:
methodist, 1st grade, 2nd grade,
Form: Rhyme
Three Irishmen by a window in stare
At a building just over there
From their heads their eyes pop
Their mouths all agog
So close they all are to swear
"Would you look at that!" the first Irishman says
"I've never seen this in all my days"
The Methodist Pastor so near
Into the building disappears
"I don't think this is the place where he prays"
No sooner are the words from his lips
When a Rabbi appears from the slips
With a quick look around
He disappears without sound
From his cassock, they see is a whip
Lost for words so agape they now see
Their Catholic Priest in front of them three
With a knock on the door
Like he's done this before
Appears not a total mystery
"Ah, now dat's sad." says the third Irishman
"As usual they've allowed him to go in
"One of da girls must have died"
It's why they let him inside
Be Jesus, it's a brothel, he's never to sin
Now the Church Heads have finally disclosed
That their clergy's have been so exposed
No more their visitation
No more their titillation
That this place of ill repute's now closed
Categories:
methodist, humor, jesus, men, people,
Form: Limerick
The Color of Lightning
David J Walker
After the funeral
With the solo sung and hung
in the confines of the chapel
Staining the main
pictographs windows of
Forgotten sins and saints
The flowers were claimed by
blind and lame mourners whose aim
it was to sell them on the once
busy downtown street corners
Where only the ghosts and mourners of
well-dressed shoppers and
shoe-shined businessmen in
the then visible and lively viable
Small town commercial centers
of American prosperity
Where they met to eat at the
Drug Store lunch counters
Just as well
To sell the trappings of a
perfect Methodist funeral in
far away heaven or hell
I remember him describing
The color of lightning
Purple and blue, and violate hues
Are common in thunderstorms
But yellow is the color of the
Cooler strikes we know so well
Filtered by the fine dust found on
The Plains
It is where we buried his remains
Wrapped in a Veterans Flag
In that fine dust
Under the cooler strikes of lightning
On the Plains
Categories:
methodist, allegory, analogy, funeral, metaphor,
Form: Rhyme
Asphalt Nomads
By David J Walker
The nomads of the asphalt travel
In the dying light of the day as
solitary nova’s with
Walmart shopping carts
Knowing where to find discarded
Treasures
Asphalt nomads
have no numbers they answer
To many names they laugh at
Your concerns for their welfare
The asphalt Nomads
marvel at the speed and ease
Of a stolen bicycle and
The meal at the Methodist Church
Is gourmet
The asphalt nomad
Knows forever is today
And each today will last a
Lifetime of forever’s
Without birthday cards from you
The asphalt nomads
Freely roam the streets
In the early mornings
Before you are ready to
Begin your day
Categories:
methodist, analogy,
Form: Free verse
Christ, by the highest heaven adored
Christ, the everlasting Lord
--From Hymn Hark the Herald Angel Sing by Charles Wesley
Come all my sisters and brothers
We glorify God in the highest heaven
His promising words live forever
Holy! Holy Lord! Thy Everlasting Name!
All creations proclaim Thy words
Mountains, seas and plains rise in acclamation
Rainbow has captured God’s great works
Holy! Holy Lord! Thy Everlasting Name!
All life’s storms cease… never reside
Christ’s divine mercy and salvation – so strong
His Holy Spirit strengthens - He guides
Holy! Holy Lord! Thy Everlasting name!
Jesus, Thy faithfulness is constant!
To You we adore Thee, only Thee Alone
Our Father whom we run to or rant
Holy! Holy Lord! Thy Everlasting name!
July 23, 2020 10.35am
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Inspired by my family’s favorite Christmas hymn where we also got my youngest brother’s name. When I was 18yrs-2oyrs old, I taught DVCS on summer to young people in our local Methodist Church. Aside from teaching the doctrine, I also taught them about the founders of Methodism, the Wesley brothers.
Categories:
methodist, devotion,
Form: Rhyme
Wales is Grape
[Enter the 'Wales' Poetry Contest]
[Done to the Methodist Hymn, "How Great Thou Art"]
Wales to me is ...
Oh he was born, in Glastonbury, England
fermentation of grape juice he hath made
no alcohol shall be used for communion.
Thomas Welch, Methodist minister forbade
Then sings my soul, for peanuts and jelly
How great thou art, how great thou art
Then sings my soul, despite his dentistry
England is not Wales but not apart.
by,
Martin Braun
5/26/2020
Categories:
methodist, humor,
Form: Lyric
M-My first church was Methodist
E-Episcopal, by way of African-American experiences,
T-That I may overcome African apartheid, white then black,
H-How far the LORD has brought me, for Jesus' Heart
O-Overflowing with forgiveness, understanding, fearless-favor
D-Day by day, I seek to love Him, not idly but in hour upon hour
I-Interceding for others, saved and unsaved, both other & a brother
S-Selfish as his wife, Sister-in-Love, who stole shamelessly, family dream
T-Today I looked through window bars, at God's green, raining tears
Categories:
methodist, africa, black african american,
Form: Alliteration
You are the God of the Wind,
You are the Great I am,
The sun and sky bow down before you.
You are El HaShamayim,
“Lord of the Heavens”.
Your love is steadfast.
Your grace is deeper than the sea.
You are omnipotent
omniscient, and omnipresent.
You are great.
You are El- Shaddai.
You are my comfort and
my deliverance.
You are not revised,
You are and always will be eternal.
You are the One who calms the sea and the waves.
You care for us.
You are El HaNe’eman
you are the Faithful God.
You are the God of all creation,
You are the savior of my soul.
You are the God of the Mountains,
you are the God of the Rivers and Streams.
You are the God of America,
the land of the brave and the home of the free.
You are the God of Israel,
the Holy Land.
You are the God of the Clouds,
Altocumulus, Nimbostratus, and Cumulonimbus.
You are the God of Plants,
You are the God of the Flowers.
You are the God of Churches,
Baptist, Methodist, Roman Catholic, etc….
You are the God of the Trees,
Pine, White Oak, Dogwood, Cherry Ornamental, etc…
Categories:
methodist, bible, christian, devotion, faith,
Form: Free verse
No Matter How Long Ago
Makes no matter how long ago
Or now that God told us so,
Him for example we should use;
Never deny him or ever refuse;
Faces forever will glow and glow.
James Horn, Episcopalian
Whatever that is. Bite my
tongue every time I say it.
When with Christ want to sail again,
You should become an Episcopalian,
Or you can also add to your list,
Presbyterian, Baptist or Methodist
Or if something more symbolic
Can try being a Catholick
Or a Mormon might want to endure;
Things about them I am not sure.
Add whatever you want to this list.
Categories:
methodist, allegory, analogy,
Form: Limerick
A bin in a sin is a din a Zen. But a booming bongo basket could always equate to a left hooked right winged shark. Oh gosh it's dark.. Oh dear. Oh no. A cracked out fish on a display. Er. Even the wildest foot could not display a metric feet. And a multi mule is a kilometre in a mud pit. But nevermind the cellar in a cesspit which always roles twice in a moon. Over and over but not oversized. Oh well. Big deal. A fathomable bag of conversation is a broom curve in a bush. la la laughable long-term lines. And a bracket form of the United Methodist isn't a little late but I don't know what to wear and the clan of the article is an antic formed by a deity of widespread wisdomatic curvaceous dew. Hahahahaha spill moons. Hahahaha sip suns hahahaha aerial dynamics xxxxxxxxxxxxxx polypeptides polynomial polynomial xxxxxxx executioners exiting xxxxxxx delve not in a diva dive xxxxxxxx had he Hendre hat xxxxxxxxx general Glitter generally xxxxxx Philipsburg point xxxx hypercholesterolemia xxxxxxx z p y q reporting from p y what p y Q reporting? Xxxxxxx
Categories:
methodist, baby,
Form: I do not know?
Hillary and Trump Are Methodist
Trump tries to think he is hot to trotting
But like a fool all his history has forgotten
To Blue Star Mom was moron and adversed
Possible thing to do in world is the worst.
Another real bad as usual he has just done
Of cerebral-palsied person Trump made fun
Mentioned where a woman's blood came from
Did abuse someone who was deaf and dumb.
Low of all low life's Trump he likes being
Took advantage of blind no longer seeing
Knowing he is great seeming so stellar
What would he say about Helen Keller?
What he should do is cease and desist
But probably my points he has missed
Lastly to write find this hard to resist
Both Hillary and Trump are Methodist.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Prominent Poet
Categories:
methodist, humorous, sad,
Form: Couplet
I saw you with some other friends
At Methodist park merrily masquerading
As someone incognito on a clear day
Full of Sun.
How could you not notice me?
You see I'm the one
Filled with razzmatazz,
Dazzling pizzazz and potency.
Looking as chic and regal
As royalty. Together we make
The eyes of onlookers bleed.
Yes. You've got it too.
For we are malignant.
But how could you not
Notice me. I'm hardly of
Your imagination on
Vacation. Various
Visible preoccupations
Probably is possible.
I guess it would be best to
Forget you.
You beautiful poisonous
PEACH. I will not
Continue to LOLLIGAG
WITH LOYALTY. I must
Remain legitimate .
Now, I feel as though I am
Nothing not even a withered
Weed.
While everyone else is filled
With glee.
At this time I wither and
Grieve for our love which
Never was.
Good bye my love blessed
My BELOVED.
Categories:
methodist, allusion, angst, beautiful, break
Form: Alliteration
A dish issue is whether the verb forms a series of events containing two or three ingredients. Ingredients are often officially interesting when placed. And material such as Velcro is very very useful when balancing on a widespread bed of crockery. Well cook then. Worldy worldwide without waste. And a hare is never a problem when hopping through an abyss. Calibres of officialdom. Wow. No problem at a beach house and home and away for the weekend is fine but the other side of the United Methodist Church is the name of the first place of worship. Oh dare one meet a jackdaw in a cardboard car. Or a ministerial monkey. Holidaying hopping hippies have havens. And bend not over a crevasse as dangers stem from rock. And blades spawn from spacial secrets. Secretary then. A portly lady humming. Hahahaha and now a salty dew. Hahahaha and an additional android arguing. Hahahaha dare to swim with the dog. *** multiplication z
Categories:
methodist, anniversary, autumn, beautiful, betrayal,
Form: I do not know?
Related Poems