Friday Challenge: If You’re A Poet, Show it.

Since we had so much fun a couple days ago with parodies of the awful lyrical homage to Jack Hyles, this Friday’s challenge is to slap together some iambic pentameter (or whatever meter makes you happy) and write a poem on this theme: The Managawd’s Lament.

As always, the contest winner will vigorously glad-handed and then promptly forgotten.

124 thoughts on “Friday Challenge: If You’re A Poet, Show it.”

  1. My apologies to Mr. Edwards from Little House on the Prairie (and some very bad poetry on my part)…

    Old Jack Hyles had a door in his office,
    Where did it lead just mind your business.
    Some of his flock thought it was demonic,
    He said between me and Jennie it’s just platonic.

    Old Jack Hyles could certainly draw a crowd,
    He had em’ hootin’ and hollerin’ and always quite loud.
    His sermons were weird bordering on the absurd,
    Mostly because he hardly ever opened God’s word.

    Old Jack Hyles always had a story to tell,
    He was always the hero and charging hell.
    When traveling to preach he boarded a plane,
    And ended up witnessing to New Ager Shirley MacLaine.

    Chorus:
    So, git outta the way of old Jack Hyles,
    He’ll do anything to bring ‘em down the aisles.
    Nothing gets in the way of the sinner’s prayer,
    Including choking a dog until it had no air.

  2. Oh, how it thrills me,
    With those tithes you give me.

    For they will pay for my new car,
    That Cadillac with OnStar

    It’s “to further the ministry”, I say,
    Therefore, I should never pay.

    But, wait, what is this?
    Tithes are down this week, what’s amiss?

    For I, er… WE need them you see,
    To keep going, for Thee.

    The poor and sick can be without,
    But, I, must drive my Town Car about.

    Because, to this life, I was called,
    Where I live happy, fat and bald.

  3. “Breaking the Lamb’s Leg” started with Branham;
    Butler said the thing about the rod;
    I’m quite ignorant of God’s teachings
    For someone who purports to speak for God.

    Shakespeare wrote the line about children and serpents;
    Aesop–”God helps those who help themselves.”
    I’m quite ignorant of God’s teachings
    For someone with six Bibles on his shelves.

    Jesus spoke Hebrew and also Aramaic.
    King James wasn’t Baptist, not at all.
    I know very little of the Scriptures

    For someone with a D.D. on his wall. (Honoris causa!)

    Jesus never said a thing about those f—-ts,
    Or about abortion or the polls.
    I’m quite ignorant of God’s teachings
    For someone who spends time collecting souls.

  4. Give ’til it hurts,
    When it hurts, give some more.
    Then all of your blessings
    On me will pour.

    Neglect your family,
    As I’ve neglected mine.
    Then Satan we’ll blame
    When they don’t turn out fine.

    Lost family and friends
    From separation rules?
    All is not lost
    For you’re racking up jewels.

    The IFB is your family
    You don’t need kin.
    You know we’ll be there
    To gossip at your end.

  5. There’s no earthly way of knowing
    Which direction they are going…

    There’s no knowing where they’re rowing…
    Or which way the river’s flowing…
    Is it raining, is it snowing?
    Is a hurricane a-blowing?

    Not a speck of light is showing
    So the danger must be growing…
    Are the fires of Hell a-glowing?
    Is the grisly Reaper mowing?

    Yes! The danger must be growing
    ‘Cause the rowers keep on rowing
    And they’re certainly not showing
    Any sign that they are slowing!

    *wow, I was going to write parody lyrics for this one, but the original just works! Great delivery by Gene Wilder, almost in the style of a Mog preaching, and of course the oompa loompa rowers representing the indentured servants under his power.

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