Sermon Poems | Examples

Things My Child Said

It is quite common to kiss 'ouchys' on those wee.
At three, my son asked to have bath autonomy.
I tossed a washcloth, then stood where he could not see.
Soon, he called out with words that completely shook me,
"Mom, it washed red and sore, please come kiss my pee-pee."

Shopping, strolling him down the grocery store aisle
where female hygiene products are sorted in piles,
my son, age four, earnestly said, "When I'm grown, I'll
buy all these things with flowers on them for my wife."
His words styled a smile in me that would last for life.

I used mild-applied wooden spoons for mood anchors.
This set me up for disgust from food cart flankers
when my son yelled, "Look Mom, a hole bag of spankers."
My child, four, eyed that, not the shelved Power Rangers?
I hoped no one would report child welfare dangers.

Once, when a minister summed up his sermon's span
asking "Who's the greatest force in the universe?",
my son, at five, stood up with some dramatic plan.
Lifting his toy hero as high as small ones can,
he enthusiastically declared, "Batman!"

Thoughts of vacation, developed my fav word pearl,
"How many times do I wake up before Disney World?"

A Happiness Sermon

Gloomy old Gus sure ain't my claim to fame
Upbeat and happy, they're both my middle names

There sure ain't no future in promoting ill will
Every morning the sun still peeks over the hill

There's enough negativity in the world to go round
So let's not encourage this scourge with a frown

You've only got one life to live then it's done
So let's be remembered for promoting good fun

It may seem quite difficult at times to achieve
But it's never too late if we all still believe

Things will be better for our kids and their kids
If we just put our trust in the joy in our midst

In this happiness sermon I'm trying my best
Some say you'll never succeed in your quest

But I say to these nay sayers, listen my friends
No one's invincible so laugh till the end

Sermon In the Sheets

If he exists or not is not the point 
It is faith that keeps us on 
Words from pops, words of soul
So every Sunday is church day
But the preacher has me in knots 
He assumes he exists and that's the point 
My suspension of disbelief is needed most 
The narratives are wise, the stories tight 
But I met God and I don't think he is him

My sermon at my funeral

My sermon at my funeral

I am lying in the funeral home, oh lovely home!
I am saying the homily in front of my dead body
I am the priest, the mourners are my past lives.

Oh, my sins!
Four men carry my coffin out to the cemetery
Last dark and brilliant sermon, mourning crowd
Crying, just crying, everyone mourns my life

My friends and brothers buried me, mourned me
Flowers, tears, nice words. ‘Why? Why he died?’
I was just standing in front of my grave with a cold face

I completed the job. I did the funeral. It’s the end of my life
A cemetery clerk switched off all the projectors
I planned my funeral in my life and I am staying on Earth
… in hologram life

Sermon on the Ark

(Dedicated to Sniffers.)

We are All animals, humans too
every One of us, me and you

God breathed life into Adam and Eve,
into each creature. Atoms unperceived

The animal kingdom is the Kingdom of God:
A harmony without heirarchy, below and above

All dogs go to heaven because all of us do,
every Soul returns to the Creator anew

An Atheist Shakes the Bishop's Hand

The ring depicts a promise of fidelity.
I smile as you stand in your cloak.
That headgear is the symbol of the tongues of fire.
I smile as you receive that formal mitre,
while that pastoral staff is a shepherd's crook.

I smile as I know that staff will be used
to smite a great oaken door.
I smile as I hear that resonant bong;
I see that ring with its diocesan crest.
You say you will pledge yourself to those who gaze.

A ring on that hand,
that hand holds a staff,
the staff smites a door.
I smile as a non-believer,
though it is a smile of great affection.


(7 May 2024)

The Fun Church

Sunday morning sardines
Sing trademarked sermons
No gain, guitars must be clean
To harken out the predetermined

Donation cards in cursive fonts
A prayer for a new patio to
Crosses finished like their countertops
Their fair-weather faith up for review

This is for the poor Diet Coke debutantes
In Burberry scarves with lipstick grins
Money isn’t everything but it's all they got
Life is just so hard for those who always win

A personal Sermon

Dear heart,
Please take a break
I know this feeling, I have had this feeling before 
It soothes at first, beguiling flings
Which shines, too
Sometimes brighter than goddess Theia
I know the comforts, the placidity it yields
And the euphoria!

Dear soul,
Stop the inner monologues
I know them, I have heard them before
With their potent, clean blade of satires
They chop pathos into cruelty, dubiety into actions
Listen to how it urges me into a chance, now or never!
Volition, I can hear the whispers. Volitions!

Dear mind, 
Avoid these thoughts
I remember them, they’ve run here before
Scattered into ways of no pattern
Tearing asunder the accords binding the soul and mind
Here, they boast of the utility they bequeath me
Chary, here, I must be, and slow I must tread
Forasmuch I owe the better of me to them
But hey! Avoid these ones regardless.

Dear self,
Collect these fragments and mend them back
For you’ve lost yourself, broken and scattered
Blend symphony from these discords
And  for once let you speak as you, dear self!

Sunday Sermon

kindly air
big mouthing every throat
lungs suck until drunk

maggie has gone shopping with alexa
they back and forth with girlish glee
while songbirds listen
to the electronic voice of god

aunty agatha went for a naked moonlit walk
the racoons began to chatter
like old men

it was a fairytale ending for her

and now it is a sunday morning
a day to talk to trees
and not listen to the words they say
as if we were all in church

brown walking boots
already smeared with grassy puke

winter bones are showing up
like fingers they point to a cracked pot
on the surface
of a new
more alien moon

A Sunset Sermon

In the crepuscular soothing sunset, bells tolled urging
The aimless audience to attend the sermon of the new pastor.
Despite their cynical sentiments, they dared not absent themselves.
The look of habitual satisfaction on the pastor’s face 
was unmistakable.  Outside light became penumbra,
Still, men and women trudged towards the chapel,
as the dirge-like bells faded into silence.  His audience was silent too.
He spoke in a sonorous voice, in an opulent resonant poetic vein
an exuberant style which was to be his familiar characteristic:
Unbridled jealousy is a sin, he intoned, so speak no evil, my friends.

I Hear a Sermon

I Hear the Sermon
I go to church, hear the word
Given by the preacher in his homily:
Retaining a sentence, phrase or word
Only that which finely suits me.
I feel satisfied to have heard 
The word, pleasing to my ear,
The rest that marks my faults
Matters not so dear.

The Greatest Sermon

I wish to be the Greatest sermon to the multitude
 the practical Christian living
I wish people to see the fruits of Christ in me
before I even say a word or act a deed
People just believe and convert to Christ
not that my life matters most in heaven
Them doing their best, taking me as an example
not having to say," Do what I say and not what I do".
Being the salt of earth and light of the world
Hypocrites, doing the opposite of godliness, 
when admonished to be the Greatest sermon in the world

By Chipepo Lwele

Soup Creek Sermon

Reviewing the Scriptures of old
God knew what should not be foretold
But we must confess
Mankind could care less
We want to know who gets the gold

Nigerian Preachers and Scary Sermons

Till tomorrow a nasty style
Nigerians stretch a bold mile:
Sermons which begin with obituary 
And proceed to The Mortuary…
 
The Waiting Choice of Deaconess Emmanuela 
Seeking and discovering The Best Umbrella 
For mandating sinners’ fastest repentance 
Of deeds that might no more clinch penance. 

Also, of Pastor Prince at war with Theological Schools, 
Because break a preacher could one or two rules… 

I simply pray Prince won’t this try in London 
For a Whole Assembly shall him abandon: 
Spiritual messages of the scary;
Tales Gospel – like but still fairy.

Another Joe Sermon, No Charge

“Turn the other cheek” – 
I hear you; but I do not
think the Bible passage
intended for us to become
Like Regan, in the Exorcist – 

Turn as far as you can...and 
as often as anatomy permits – 
and if common direction has 
not been found...then, Fight!

God allowed for day and night,
up and down, clouds and Sunshine,
wrong and right, different sizes 
and colors – Christ turned the
other cheek, but at times He
pushed back with vehement
passion, as in the temple, when
appalled by the Carpetbaggers' 
buying and selling  –  

Only Love
should remain constant 
and incorruptible....

And it is wrong to love
evil....

Sometimes splashing evil
with Light is enough (my preferred way)...
and sometimes one must simply turn out their
            lights....

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