Papal Poems | Examples

ENSLAVED FREEDOM

Liberty, equality, fraternity,
beautiful chimeras carved into the republican marble,
yet behind the motto, the Black Code,
the papal bull,
and the slave-trading betrayal as backbone.

Slavery, colonization,
xenophobia, negrophobia,
these are the legacies they disguise as civilizations.

Human zoos, colonial trading posts, the colonial pact,
the savage plunder wrapped in a tricolor flag.
In banana republics, tyranny is always under contract,
Françafrique and its neo-colonial military bases
feed African dictators at the service of the West.

Africa, the third world, whose misery has been planned for millennia,
this is how they name the cradle of humanity.
Under their blades, raw materials
become a procession of genocides,
and neo-colonial poaching devours heritages.

Assimilation, integration, alienation,
these three chains forged by the schools of the empire of Enlightenment.
But human dignity refuses to be sold,
the integrity and identity of courageous souls will never prostitute themselves.

Humanity and Africanity,
these two flames proclaim aloud
that the womb of oppressed peoples
shall never be reduced to the dust of servitude and submission.

REMAINS AND DECREES

I crossed the archives as one walks through a field of ruins.
Decrees were bones, dogmas were nails.
Kings signed treaties in ink darker than darkness, a pact forged in daggers.
Papal bulls oozed blood beneath God's varnish.
Codes etched the systematic animalization into stone.
They legislated hell, administered suffering, theorized the slaughterhouse.
Even science became an executioner,
draping contempt in formulas and measured skulls.
I didn’t read history, 
I breathed it,
its ashes glued to my lungs,
its screams wedged in the margins.
They crucified continents for their gems,
their plantations, their ores, and their silences.
They told me: progress.
But I saw boots pressed to throats.
They told me: forget.
But the graves still speak.
They told me: democracy.
I saw tanks circling the ballot boxes.
And you, West, with your carnivorous grin,
you demand forgiveness without returning the bones.
You scream values with your pockets full of plunder.
You dress up your hunger as mission.
You baptize your rape as liberation.
You persist, you insist, you gorge yourself.
But our memories are neither dead nor tame.
They sharpen.

A Dust Bowl of Glitter

A blessed soul has won a role, The Prince of Peace,
Of noble birth, a novice born a blue-blood,
Pontificate average those brevities,
Stemmed full of thorns wrangled beneath his rosebud.

Won The Papal States, Mona Lisa smiled, lost,
His tenure was mired in doubts--parts that he crossed,
A scorned tag as unfortunate of the popes,
A Florentine, a Medici, useless hopes.

Jokers Wildfire in Hearts

hollow the words seem when said to a wall,
bounce back with fear and anger to keep,
papal silence for the thrall to burrow asleep,
worms of thoughts weep by sunrise to fall.

skills of a magistrate in proper order would bow,
kings would castrate themselves to drink milk,
cows jump moons for the money pig on top,
steak and bacon sizzle on the solar flare.

where are we in all this, wondrous saloon?
cowgirls and cowboys, or more like cowards?
the paddle doors swinging and the guns draw,
would you shoot or hesitate, ten steps is all you take?

turn and boom it all flutters down in spades,
joining in this house of cards in the breeze.

Iberian Cross-Roads

We drive breakneck over hot roads.
Churches, big as cathedrals, rocket
from pocket villages.
Castillo's cast their campanile on the baking earth.

The Great Mosque of Cordoba,
the green Alhambra shades us
through a preaching dust.

The Giralda; its Christianized minaret
stretched like a tourists neck,
and above the Papal parapets,
a banished Allah.

The holy places have hollow guts,
their tubes are wrapped
around a torso, like alien spaceships.
One edifice dwarfs another
until awe sinks to its knees
attired in the black mufti
of old peasant women.

We are traveling fast now.
Nave and transept are our crossroads.
Basilica and sacellum our roadside naps.

The car parallel parks itself
beside every altar and shrine,
it's engine running,
as we chase God's works down,
ticking off only ourselves.

Rehashing History: Galileo

...or What's science got to do with it?

Galileo looked through a lens one day
And, boy, was he astounded.
The Earth wasn't flat as he'd been told,
It was, in fact, quite rounded.
Pope Urban VIII then came along
And said, "No, that's absolutely wrong,
For, I, the Church, do not agree, and I'm the Wise One.
It's just as plain as plain can be why my pontifical decree's
The Earth is flat and ends right there at the horizon.
And for infallibility, you know, I am renownded."

So Galileo relented and recanted his boast
So he wouldn't be tortured or turned into toast.
A few centuries passed,
A new Pope said he guessed
That his theory might have been misjudged,
Since back then science was begrudged,
And the Church owed him a pardon,
Or a posthumous papal "perhaps", at the most.

NON NOBIS DOMINE

NON NOBIS DOMINE

Significant, back in the day
Was the Knight Templar cross pattee
Red and stout with its flattened ends
A different message that it sends

Papal directives to obey
Significant, back in the day
A secretive knightly order
Sent to the Holy Land border 

To take and keep Jerusalem
The holy city, a real gem
Significant, back in the day
Try to keep Saladin away

The order grew and was wealthy
Their cavalry charge not stealthy
For years, kept enemies at bay
Significant, back in the day

Limbus Infantum

My brother went to limbo
Stillborn and unbaptized
Faultless but Original Sin
Status unknown
A soul in liminal space
Lost between heaven and hell 
Damnation spared 
Salvation denied 
Consigned by papal decree
Resigned to the Mercy of God 
Wrenched, a mother's heart

Grace

The farther I get from religion
the closer I get to God
Clouds blown free—new imagery
a seed in Heaven’s pod

The farther I get from the papal bull
the closer His voice I hear
Grace so blessed—divine GPS
directions loud and clear

(Dundale: September, 2023)

Decayed

Sadly,
The truths they claimed
Would set me free
Rotted
In the souls of twisted vines
And broken branches.
Decay
Spreading from stagnant soil
Through the roots
And twisted bramble
To the towering
Papal tiara.
Thus, freedom came
And I was lost
Left alone
To seek a truth
Unknown
To them
Yet longing
to be discovered.

Critterature: Miracles Can Happen

Sister Josefina Javelina packed her bag in Argentina
To go flying off to Rome to see the Pope.
Her desire was to become
More than just a simple nun.
She had asked her local priest,
And he said, "Nope!"
But she had high expectations
Of a papal dispensation
To pursue her goal,
And here's the reason why:
Though he later came to rue it,
Her priest joked that she could do it
The day the Pope resigned*, then pigs could fly.


*That priest made this remark on Feb. 9, 2013. On Feb. 11 Pope Benedict XVI announced his resignation.

Esperance

ESPERANCE

Where there’s life there’s hope
As vital signs may be detected
And presents a chance to cope
However we may be affected

Yet can any of us really see it
Whether obscured in fantasy
Or clearly stated in Papal fiat
A different kind of hypocrisy

When good prospects emerge
And all are confirmed as real
Unspent emotions start to surge
A tidal wave that one can feel

Hope remains the final portal
For those of us who are mortal

Reasons Why the Catholic Church Have a Pope

The Catholic Church has a Pope because the papacy was instituted by our Lord Father Christ (Jesus)
The Pope is the visible head of the Church and has supreme authority to preserve doctrine
To teach
To sanctify
The Pope protects dogma and keeps us united in faith
If not for the papal unerring
There would be no certainty in matters of faith
We would have no means of knowing what is true and what is not
We could have no finality of doctrine 
Each person would be left to believe whatever he or she "felt" was right
As a result
There would be error
 Disunity
Rejection of truths
Adoption of errors etc
We wouldn't even have a Bible since there would be no unerring authority to determine the canon of Scripture
We could never be sure that our beliefs corresponded with truth
We could never be sure we were on a true path leading to salvation
Furthermore
Without the Pope
There would be no preserver of doctrine
No center of unity
No supreme authority visible on earth
The Church was literally founded by our Lord on the "rock" of St. Peter
Without this foundation
The entire structure would fall

Poetry Written: 1072023
Time Written: 10:51a.m.
Poetry Form: Free Verse

Related To Jim

Grandpa was a Bowie.
A tight-lipped protestant Ulsterman
who drifted into the Poblacht na hÉireann
in search of a cure for his cold heart.

His thin lips wed a soft Catholic girl.
He joined the Garda Síochána settling down
to breed Kerry Blue’s. After he retired, he still
wore his uniform, his neck as stiff as ever.
Grandma wrote letters to the Pope
begging for Papal forgiveness
for her heathen husband.

I have not been to Hidalgo County,
but if I were one day to go, I might try
to convince the Daughters of the Alamo
of my credentials to be worshiped
in a mild, concessionary way.
A complimentary burger, a free pass
to the museum, a photograph
of myself brandishing a big knife
at a picture of Generalissimo Santa Anna
that would suffice.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Poblacht na hÉireann" = Republic of Ireland (Éire).  
"Ulster' (Northern Ireland).
"Garda Síochána" Is the Police Force of the Republic of Ireland.

Ska,Ska,Ska

Her individual affords attracted
several others to what she was
doing.
Her ability to collaborate with
others
with the interest of all involved
 gained her respect almost her peers
and those who supported her effort's.
"Kwatto Cumbia": often she shunded
those for fooling there fans with electrc
sounds made to sound orcheatrated.
Soca Dub said of her ":that which is best
is best, and often times her's is
 best of the best!"
She once received a note from one of her
female fans, she said at the bottom
of the letter she said, hymn love you, hymn do> Hymn wanna marry you 
in papal."
she said wow! this is what I'm attracting, I must do better!

• Short Papal Poems
• Famous Papal Poems
• Best Papal Poems
• Read Papal Poems
• Long Papal Poems
• Papal Quotes