Rector Poems | Examples

The Fate Of Sarah Rector

The world against her
But destiny had other plans.

From barren land
To boundless fortunate.

From testament to record book
The resilience to luck and hard work.

Cletihew Barnes

Dorset poet Wiilam Barnes they do say
a C of E rector in his day
Determined to de-saxonise
clothed his verse in dialectic disguise

A Purposely Torn Mosquito Net

Overnight shall sleep The Delayed Inspector
In a swarming-with-mosquitoes Sector:
The exact wish of his host and Rector
Wishing him the company of Malaria’s Vectors
And the keenest battles with Their Directors,
Since he mustn’t The School Inspector hector
But can’t him leave The Victor
Of a supervisory Role, Very Rude
And intent display of The Shrewd.
 
A Thirty-fiver impressing he could deprive
A Fifty-fiver of his sole drive,
Teacher watchers shocking as he strives
To mar that on which he thrives;
Wherefore it has to now be
And ever by payback be
A Purposely Torn Mosquito Net
That Malaria makes A sure bet
And Eyelids with begging tears wet.

You Know Your Fat

You know your fat
When
  Candy is on the top of your food pyramid
  Your spouse hits the ceiling when you lie down to bed
The love seat becomes your chair
All you can eat buffet becomes a dare
  Five XXXXX does not fit
  You take a whole row on a jet
You go outside and block the sun
Walking the rector scale begins to run
  You have an intervention at the drive through
  Looking down you can't see your shoes
Stepping on the scale a white flag appears
Your third chin hides your full beard
  A candy bar is your tooth pick
  Snacking before third breakfast does the trick
You know your fat
When
  Omar the tent maker richly retires
   You realize this body is not what you desire
You can get in shape
Do it for you and lose that weight

Mathematics 2

You think,
I blink.

Curves called,
Not bawled.

Tan can,
Scope fan.

Change rate,
In state.

Vector,
Rector.

Equals,
Owls.

Calc weight,
The rate.

Applied,
Filed tiled.

Practice,
Chalice.

Building,
Wielding.

NASA,
Bless her.

Eco,
Set mo.

Eco,
Set blow.

Medic,
Metric.

Bio,
We know.

Techo,
Clear row.

For us,
Deluxe.

Human,
The lan.

Footprint,
In mint.

Graphs pie,
Grey dye.

Only;
Found eye.

Cosine,
No twine.

Sin blare,
We care.

The Village Sacrifice

An English village lay at peace
Until that catastrophic day
When flea-infested rolls of fleece
Brought pestilence and death their way.

They heard the village rector say
'No remedy can bring release
In quarantine we all must stay
So that the spread of plague might cease.'

09.02.20


NOTE:

On 1 November 1666 farm worker Abraham Morten gasped his final breath - the last of 260 people to die from bubonic plague in the remote Derbyshire village of Eyam. Their fate had been sealed four months earlier when, after the onset of the plague from flea-infested cloth from London, the entire village made the remarkable decision to quarantine itself in an heroic attempt to halt the spread of the Great Plague.

Sermon By Real Rector

Saw A Real Rector

Went to church to see a real rector, 
Who my wife had been the selector; 
Was profound, 
In each sound; 
Sermon sweet like newfound nectar.

Jim Horn

Unwanted Guest

Suck blood like a vampire from a strange empire ,
Not invited but invite herself,
Pass through tiny holes and mesh of the net to 
Set her proboscis on the skin…
Night crawler and unwanted flying creature ..
Dances around your earlobe to infuriate you..And ..
You end up slapping your  ear with a big  bang..!
Her piecing mouth part sends strong signals to 
the  brain which can make the sane to be insane ..
Fever  is the outcome ,running temperature is his friend ,
And headache the mother..of all murders….
Anaemia plus lassitude will pay you a warm visit ,
Leading to excursion to the doctor’s home ;
Lab test shows plasmodium or salmonella…or …what?
Carried by this vector or rector called female anopheles…
 ....Mosquito.......





2-27-2017

What Jesus Means To Me

What Jesus Means To Me

This poem is based on sermon by Father Dave Davis,
Rector of St. James Episcopal Church, Shallotte, NC
on March 22, 2015. Gospel for Day was John 12:20-23.
Maybe they might put my poem on their website.

What Jesus Means To Me

Who is this Jesus supposed to be?
What should He really mean to me?
Of course, He is our Lord and Savior
And want to find myself in His favor.

There are things that I do not deny
Want Jesus to be a nice, great guy
Being available and also convenient
And like Him best when He is lenient.

What is it that we want Jesus to do?
Be nice and make dreams come true;
Answer prayers each and every one;
When He's around have a lot of fun.

Have Jesus help me grow and grow
And where it is I might have to go
Be with me up until my dying day
To heaven be sure to take me away.

Do I have to be much more direct?
What is it I am supposed to expect?
From Jesus but know that I am glad
His big job to do I never, ever had.

James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and
Member of Board of Vestry
and 2d Helpings Program

The Pococke Cedar

He
travelled
far and wide,
studied Arabic :
A famous orientalist :
An Oxford scholar and doctor of Divinity.

Here
was
a man,
the Rector
of Childrey parish,
the Reverend Edward Pococke.

He
planted
in the year
sixteen forty two,
a cedar of Lebanon seed.

Now
the
oldest
cedar tree
in this pleasant land
still grows in the Old Rectory
in the delightful village of Childrey, Oxfordshire.

O Fault

O Fault! 

Horrendously I believed, a man solitary, 
Was real alive stood, aftermath Tsunami. 
On top of a roof, standing overwhelming,
Looking towards wreckage and towns’ declining.

Devastation of property, food water shortage,
Ancestral heritage, swept away by chase.
Culturally rich even, 100 years liven,
No escape what to do, in front of threat.
Earthquake shook foundation, with nine Rector Scales,
Tsunami you remained disheartened in mid of wails.

You forgot to wait albeit; they’re previously swept,
Probably tremor sent message, to frozen Japan the best.
World remained sterilized, forgetting heavenly shape,
Life swallowed grief, at the mid of deface.
Such irrational calamities, occurred upon lives,
Stop genocide heading, towards human’s face.
Without noticing, why did you demolish race?

Love us then only, we stir to generate lives,
Otherwise we’ve to chain sack, for next sister planet.
We’re poor creature, you’re great genuine,
Bureaucracy impinged, havoc terminating shrine.
O fault! Mind your business, if you want life to begin.

A Moment For Hope

The sermons nearly finished, suddenly a happening befalls my eyes
Our congregation now sits silent, amidst echoing tearful cries

An old man we know as Tommy, he's the retired Rector of our Academy
Now lying silent on the stone cold flagstones, he disappeared from see

Motionless to ashen in lie, worried faces in concern surround
Whilst a face appears from the tears, slowly kneeling on this hallowed ground

In tenderness sigh exhale, her hands now adorn his chest
In gentle moving motion, resuscitation is now addressed

Minutes appear like hours, when suddenly two eyes now open see
Where I'm sitting like others around, what's happening in front of thee

No miracles are cried out loud, simply a calmness by she who coped
All because a face from our congregation, gave us a moment for hope

You Are Still In My Heart

You are still in my heart 
                                            to forget many times I tried
                                  In front of my heart mirror many came and gone
                                       but still your image floats in my mind

                               My soft heart was drunk with your sight of nectar 
                         now I feel that I was not matured so felt me as your rector
                                   though was it dream still my heart remember
                                     what you were till reflects the same for me      
                                                     
                                     








For contest: Sponsored by: Michael J. Falotico

Thomas Higgins' Pastime

Thomas Higgins was busy doctor
And spent his evenings with the rector
Who managed a nearby seminary;
He was a man loveably down-to-earth and ordinary.

He spent the hours between four and six
In the nearby arboretum studying twings
And the little monkeys that graced the trees,
He had a bottle with stuff that looked like juice
From which he drank from time to time,
And I fancied some day I would write him some rhyme.

He did hasty press-ups and liked to jog
And beside him sat Casey his faithful dog;
 He followed his master wherever he went
And wagged his tail whenever his master bent.

Thomas and Higgins were such faithful friends
And such were their daily trends;
Whenever they walked back home
Casey would lead the way as was his accustomed norm.

Sins of Adam

Hold the mirror to your face your the broken enemy precious is your inhabition a pathway to 
your sanity delusions lead to hollow confusion a metamorphsis borderline dilemma, whats 
the pleasure in a lesser evil is the comfort addictive at the seat of kings in your wildest 
dreams let the lies pull you under let the wayward intentions leave you blinded it's infinite 
that you carry this heavy burden as a prelude to your infamy. The rhythm of your beating 
heart is soothing inspired yet still withering I've lead you into deception to the doorsteps of 
the jackel himself, say your simple hymn and sacrifice your boundaries: "In muto of rebirh 
ego tribuo ut thee cruentus manuum in edens nemus uindico thee quod rector thee inregnum 
of lux in eve illae alveus nox noctis amen".

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