perched in pews

such solely syllabic utterances
queued perfect to a finite form
sacrificing meaning for intent

mouths agape saying naught
mimicking decrepit miters
who preach dismally of dust

hair woven tight as shrouds
fearful of allowing a breath
to escape the clotted confines

clever these woolly lambs
these happy flocks of flotsam
floating on a sea of tranquility

hairy ears impatient pricked
preening serenely their undoubted
salvation these bishop babes

breasts expanding engorged
on your all-hallowed humility
which admittedly you wear so well

how joyful it must be, my dears
to know that you are blessed
and ever so much appreciated

Çeşme, Turkey 23 July 2012

9 thoughts on “perched in pews

  1. George, it’s all quite amazing… thought provoking and beautiful poetry…
    “hair woven tight as shrouds
    fearful of allowing a breath
    to escape the clotted confines”
    wow… great work ~ 🙂 R

    Like

    • My thanks, Susan. The subject is all Mari’s fault — she got me thinking along those lines. But I take full credit for the sarcasm. … Or not. Years of watching Monty Python, Fawlty Towers, and Blackadder have irrevocably tainted my tongue with a taste for sarcasm. … Well, at the very least, I wrote this bloody thing, so I was kind of involved in it!

      Like

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