Is It Poetry
Priest the.....Polished floors black linen robes are ironed and crisp
some thing for the people I have chained and nothing missed.
White hair the far right wing goes there where most are tossed away.
Forgive me father I have sinned today my shame evolved
and while each whom walked in grace I came to stand before.
The midday sun that sheds the dark above my hand the moon
bright lights call out come here to me and be my only friend.
All that came before from dust will find thier worth it's end.
Do you feel the guilt good Catholic children all should feel
or become the white fine salt thats held inside each open hand.
One good reason why that all should come to life and say amen.
The story's that you hear are always true when spoken by a priest.....
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Comments about this poem (Priest by Is It Poetry )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
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