Short Choristers Poems
Short Choristers Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Choristers by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Choristers by length and keyword.
A vicar whose sermons were boring
Caught one of his choristers snoring
The lesson was taught
He cut sermons short
And numbers in church are now soaring!
12.01.23
in the square, light encircled
choristers of yule
who incanted charmingly
as the dew sank cool
on their rouge berets,
cardinal cloaks with green socks—
a cordant bouquet
From my bathroom throne
I overlook heads of trees
men for all seasons
who sway and still
like felt and feathered burghers
dependent on his lordship’s
words.
In glowering times
they cloak themselves in mist,
hiding like fleshless nerves
from courts and kings
and the kings’ best choristers
the birds.
The mockingbird sings,
Emulating rings,
Confusing all nearby birds.
He keeps me awake;
Won’t step on the brake.
So glad he cannot speak words.
For what I utter
Might cause a flutter
Among other choristers.
“Please choose one,” I smile,
“And do not compile
The sweet tunes of your sisters”
*Written July 27, 2014 for Dr. Ram's "Alouetee" contest
Fresh flakes come pirouetting down
To softly lie below
And cloak the peaceful churchyard in
A crystal bed of snow.
Young choristers in unison
Raise voices to proclaim
The dawning of redeeming grace
And glory of His name.
And once again this Christmas time
The Saviour’s love imparts
An everlasting gift of peace
To humble, contrite hearts.
01.12.19
F T I SPECIAL for advent : Brian Strand
Let's not lose our lunch
or get our undies in a bunch
when apprised of
all those male vicars
compelled to infiltrate
choirboys' knickers
they may think it jolly
but I believe
they're off their trolley
at best they're jesters
at worst molesters
within the hierarchy
no matter what ranking
deserving of more than
just a damn good spanking
indeed why not weed them out
and of all the unkindest cuts
below the belt
relieve them of their nuts
Grey turns the sky at noon:
Broken arrows storm the atmosphere
With their terrible mastiff and slavers
And carted away the glowing stars.
I gazed with a blurred lens
Into the sky where the sparrows fly
But the smoke from the burning huts
Had scared away the sparrow’s choristers:
No song, no peace, not even a glimpse of hope
No light, no night, not even the sweet shining stars
For smiling sorrows swings back and forth the town
And clanged to the souls that once did smile