Church of England 2012
The Church of England, so predictable.
That bastion of souls, all respectable.
With trendy vicars toeing the line,
Hapless curates taking their time.
Of women bishops marching in the fray,
And other clergy feeling gay.
A lefty Archbishop with an old grey beard,
A congregation thinking it all too weird.
Arranging flowers the elderly Mrs Brown,
The choirmaster, man about town.
The verger hardworking and honest,
The organ master writing a sonnet.
The leaking roof about to cave in,
With the next sermon all about sin.
The bells ring out in perfect chime.
The whole church way behind time.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Church of England 2012 by David Wood )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
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