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Exercising My Spiritual Gifts


This morning, I was inspired by the metrical Psalms of my friend David Regier, and I’ve been waxing poetic this afternoon. This is the result. If you like it, thanks. If not, it’s Mr Regier’s fault.

For your edification:

My arrival at church was belated;
I came with my stomach unsated.
Like a ravenous creature,
It drowned out the preacher,
And so I was excommunicated.

A teacher of systematic theology,
Whose avocation was zoology,
Catechized an equine,
Which got into the wine,
And now he owes an apology.

The organist came to church late,
While the ushers were passing the plate.
To shorten the story,
There was no offertory;
In shame, he became an oblate.

Preparing for Sunday’s potluck,
Mrs Jones baked a luscious roast duck.
It made enough gravy
To feed a whole navy
(The remainders filled Mr Jones’ truck).

The youth pastor said to his wife,
“This job is creating such strife.
“The time’s drawing near,
“I really do fear,
“I’ll be running top speed for my life.”

Semper Deformanda.

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Posted 2017·11·06 by David Kjos
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Posted in: Humor? · Je ne sais quoi · Poetry

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