Is It Poetry

(1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

Priest


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.....

Submitted: Wednesday, June 18, 2014

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  • Christian Hudak (6/19/2014 12:40:00 PM)

    Wow, beautiful poem! Short, but the farthest thing from simple! Truly great (:
    I invite you to check out some of my own, and leave any advise for me as a writer, I would greatly appreciate it!

    Sincerely - Christian Hudak (Report) Reply

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