The bishop and the drunkA Poem by TomJudge not my words alone..
The Sunday congregation
listened in mesmerisation to scripture read opine, always a powerful oration championing supplication to deity divine 'The world is your oyster and you shall surely prosper if one obeys holy writ, follow the righteous path to avoid celestial wrath,' ecclesiastical words from pulpit With service then complete including meet and greet the bishop made for home, jumped into his car burning rubber against tar felt a thud on chrome? Alighting from his vehicle to view somewhat empirical a pitiful, pathetic sight, off car bumper had went splat a luckless, feral cat now in desperate plight Despite need for assistance the Bishop put distance between feline and self, thinking of Sunday brunch and as was his hunch, hit and run in stealth But one from the community aloof of idealistic unity and Sunday weekly sermon, a lonesome alcoholic regarded with unjust vitriolic by folk predetermine Resting under nearby shade observed this masquerade of invidious intolerance, rushed to lowly creature's aid as truant preacher bade fast retreat to manse This empathetic gentleman with unfettered hand held a broken body close, as tears began to well a ninth life slipped and fell into peaceful repose Confraternity can be fickle and when reaper points sickle one must acquiesce, judgement from zenith throne is not be made on words alone but compassionate heart is truly blessed! © 2017 TomAuthor's Note
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17 Reviews Added on June 7, 2017 Last Updated on June 7, 2017 Author
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