Presbyterian Poems | Examples

Kaleidoscope

Kaleidoscope 

A man unsure of how to address women
walked into a tube of colored glasses
and bits of painted paper.

he was brought up as a Presbyterian, were
women were held in high esteem
wore long gloves when going to a ball.

He thought the color in the kaleidoscope
where tartish-like women dressed in red
standing on the pavement near a bar.

Yet he felt drawn to the colorful women
they exited him, unlike the young women
who looked dowdy at the church.

He thought of sin and a moral dilemma 
should he pay a woman in a red dress
see what it was all about, the sex thing?

He did and had a hell of a time; he did
time and time again until the day crabs 
danced on his eyebrows.

Her Wedding Day

Based upon an entry in the mid-19th Century autobiography of Presbyterian Theodore Clapp, who lived for several decades in New Orleans, Louisiana.

Of the many young brides who I’ve married,
None were more exquisite than her.
Her pleasant charm, and smile so merry,
Both made my old heart stir.
Her fiancé loved her deeply
And she cherished him like no other.
Her father gave her away happily,
In front of her joyful mother.
In the afternoon wedding her vows were said,
While a bouquet in hand she carried.
Their reception next was well-attended,
like many young couples that I have married.

A few hours later, she fell deathly ill. 
Then suddenly, she no longer stirred.
Later that night, in her wedding dress still, 
And with bouquet in hand, she was interred.
Deep within her family sepulcher 
Remain four questions unanswered.
Why then? Why her?
What purpose was served?
And how does one assuage the ones who loved her?

Nashville Covenant Haiku

As springs’ budding blossoms emerge
the raptors glide mercilessly.
—Michael R. Burch

I wrote this haiku-like poem on 3-27-2023 after the Nashville Covenant school shooting massacre. Keywords/Tags: Nashville, Nashville Covenant, Nashville Covenant Presbyterian School, school shooting, massacre, children, kids, students, child abuse, gun control, America, United States, death, murder, serial murder, massacre, bereavement, class, classes

Croydon Yesteryear

You've aged well with Conviction
Guarding your yesteryears
of residential Presbyterian Thornton Heath in 58
and Kennards in the town centre
Bygone Croydon days
with Grants and Allders, crown jewels
and Beatles at the festive Fairfield Halls 63
and Young Conservatives 64 in Purley

Presbyterian Church Elder Welder

He's a Presbyterian Elder
By occupation Car Welder: 
If you don't mind: Welder Elder,
By choice in the job, not fell there...

Fellow Elders for the good air,
Easy to find them in nice wear,
Grudging not a perfumed hair,
With two good cars and still a spare...

So, special: this Welder Elder,
Doting Husband of Emelda,
User of the job's Equipment. 
Likely seeker of a shipment;
To the tasks truest commitment
Like Lord God's Eleventh Commandment...

A Charles resting much on shoulder
Fellow Elders sure a boulder.

Contrarian Veterinarian

In Encino there's a veterinarian
who is the Valleys rudest contrarian
He'll insult a shy tabby
Greet a pug: Hey there, flabby!
But at home, he's a kind Presbyterian
                    5/17/22

Alan W Watts: Rip Great Lapsed Pastor

I
Alan Watts says we live forever
In children if we can bear
There is no joy in going on, ever
And ever as a dying tree or flower

II
He was a brilliant Brit, knew nirvana!
Died as American, in California
Barely making 59 years, once pastor
Presbyterian in Pennsylvania

III
I need to research why he quit
He was undoubtedly good at it
For faithfulness few scholars matched
His authenticity, universality. Unmatched

My Lydia, My Lydia

My Lydia, my Lydia, 
You undoubtedly have contracted chlamydia.
During one of your sex-capades, 
In a beloved city, somewhere in Syria, or India, 
Or presumably from the talented guy, 
You willingly met at the cafeteria in Nigeria. 
maybe it was the Presbyterian at the meridian?
Oh My Lydia, my Lydia, you say its just trivia 
Remember Olivia from Bolivia contracted diphtheria. 
She customarily wore a bougainvillea in her hair. 
After every consensual affair, with eccentric millionaires
I saw her today she looked worn and in despair, 
Even though mature life was unfair, she still had a little flair. 
and wore a fragrant flower in her flowing hair.
My Lydia, my Lydia what's that, you say, you don’t care.

Miss Ruth

A God-honored teacher, Miss Ruth Vance
His gift to our town, His circumstance.
No replacing her bulging tote bag -
It was priceless, minus the Gucci tag."

and now the rest of the story....

Teacher extraordinaire, Miss Ruth Vance
taught eighth graders about life, perchance.
From first grade to twelfth, school musician.
Music was her primary mission.

For Halloween, she'd parade the whole school
round and round the gym! What a jewel!
Her eighth graders always danced the May Pole. 
Pomp and Circumstance, our seniors' goal. 

Christmas plays displayed her special niche;
school choirs of all ages sang without a hitch.
Our Mary Poppins with overstuffed school bag -
Miss Ruth, musician, teacher and wag.

Sundays at noon, she played the town postlude
doors thrown wide open, all ears were glued...
Baptists, Methodists going home from church 
heard Miss Ruth, at her Presbyterian perch.

January 4, 2021

contest:  Clerihew
sponsor: Regina McIntosh

Lost Memories Define

Traveling the world in my mind,
 ghosts linger behind

Traveling the world in my mind,
each flashback a sign

Traveling the world in my mind,
space harder to find

Traveling the world in my mind
—memories define

(Presbyterian Hospital: January, 2020)

Sacrosanct Divisions

She made the sign of the cross as she passed the park by the cathedral,
His Baptist legs stopped dead on its tracks killing his amorous rush,
His ‘whatever voice’ said, “choose your churchified kind”
The Presbyterian friend raised an eyebrow like his grandma does,
And reclined into congregational mode humming “Amazing Grace”
Then she looked up and saw the third pal muttering unknown tongues,
Clutching her rosary, wide eyed she rushed her ‘the more the better ‘Hail Marys’ ’
Last night she recalled Mr. Miracle on TV, arms reaching, asking, to dig deep –
Eyes, eye to eye with the camera: ‘give, give and you’ll get returns, big time!’
And then her walls came down, her catholic spirit cold as a smokeless altar –
Then she saw walls come up, like sacrosanct divisions, typifying God.
What about love? Humph! What’s love got to do with it? Jeez!

Each Moment

Pointing his thumb,
two feet close behind

Direction untethered,
new mountains to climb

Hitching tomorrow,
to yesterdays past

To ride in the present
—each moment to last

(Presbyterian Hospital: October, 2019)

And Be Gone

You’ll know when its time…
you won’t fight it
or struggle,
you won’t lie to yourself
—or try to hang on

You’ll let everything go
as it’s time to unburden,
your mind and your spirit,
your heart
—and be gone

(Presbyterian Hospital: July, 2019)

See Nothing In the Picture But Jesus

Life paints many a picture to us
various colours hits us between the eyes
whether it be hardship or something soft
the reality is the final day comes and dies

It's so important to value all our time
for we've only got an allotted time spell
we don't know when our span will be up
but God will say time up and ring our bell

So in this life, our eyes must be clear
look sharply into our picture to see light
whatever our view be sure of one thing
see past the mist however unclear our sight

See nothing in the picture but Jesus
reject all other sightings no matter who
Jesus is the only one that will count
in the great scheme of things, He's always true

Jesus only Jesus and only Him alone
has the wisdom power and merciful grace
to lead us through life's dark valleys
so be sure to look fully on His wonderful face

(Quote:
'See nothing in the picture but Jesus'
- Derek Thomas, Senior Pastor of First Presbyterian Church of Columbia, South Carolina and Bible teacher.)

No Matter How Long Ago

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.

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